Cataloguer with Big Australia
May 12, 2003 @ 1100
Woke up late and harried. In the time I should have used to run to the station I watched the television. Since there was a week between the interview set up and the actual interview I could have taken a ride into the city to get a handle on my bearings. I chose not to as I thought I knew the Pyrmont area well enough despite only having visited a friend once at Potts Point. Things conspire and the fact that I got to Town Hall station at the time the interview was supposed to have been set was only a small indication of the mess I got myself into.The Pyrmont area surrounding the points of the harbour have undergone some major changes of late. As if from industrial vacancies, newly christened roads and recently erected buildings lined the region. Only the very latest versions of street directories held the correct mapping. I did not have one of these references.
Harbourside, a shopping centre alongside Cockle Bay wharf, was on the way toward the new pseudostreet of Mount Street Walk. I don't really know why or how, but I ended up walking through two levels of a nearby carpark. Started in the basement and caught the lift to the forth floor. I walked around and when I got back into the doors of the first floor of Harbourside I could see that I took a major detour around the back of the complex. A shopping centre like any other is pretty big and to have taken the long exhausting route around the perimetre takes time. Time I did not have.
Finally out of Harbourside and I was picking up the pace a little on my way up the incline to Mount Street. Over the hill I saw the street sign and did a little double check to make sure I was at the right place. The street was pretty short, perhaps only just over one hundred metres in length. On one side was a salon or boutique of sorts, empty. On the other was a huge towering block of flats. Given my outing in the previous interview I just figured that this would be another business operating out of someone's home. I walked up to unit 12 and rang the doorbell. No answer. I took a look at my notes and realised I was supposed to be ringing 17. There was an open door to the other side of the building and I walked in looking for 17. Spotting stairs and a lift I went ahead for the lift even though I knew that from the planning that 17 would be fairly close to the ground floor. I got in an hit the button for the first floor. And waited. A minute after the doors closed I hit the <|> button. I hadn't moved one floor. I hoofed it up the new carpeted stairs and saw both an 18 and a 19, but no 17. Back down the stairs I spotted a security guard at his desk and asked if he knew where 17 was. He showed me outside to the small 17 outside one of the gates. I hit the buzzer. Nothing. I hit it again and still nothing. The front gate was unlocked so I stepped up to the glass door to take a look inside. Papers were all over the place like a busy office would look like. Sure I was late but I didn't figure it was right of them to hide in another room like as if I was a mormon. Feeling defeated I rested outside the gates hoping perhaps to catch someone on their way out. Having no idea what the time was I thought I was seeing someone else walk up for the interview or at least this Kasey I was supposed to meet. He unlocked his already unlocked gate and I talked a little with him hoping perhaps to still have a chance with getting in on the interview. I thought he was being a little coy asking me, "Are you waiting for someone?" Sure, late and rubbing it in. Turns out I was at the wrong place. I wasn't at Mount Street, I was at Miller and the 17 I thought was the place was his place, his home. I took a look at my notes and realised that Mount Street extended beyond across the mammoth hill in the middle and I marked over the dissection. I shook this mysterious guy's firm hand and was up and gearing for the right place.
Like the carpark debacle of earlier I walked around another city sized block on my way to the intended. Spotting a flight of sandstone steps to what I was sure the right street I ran up with much gusto. Only to find a carpark with barbed-wire along the tops of the fence. But the exit gate led into Mount Street. I was pretty close.
Having made my way to the otherside of the barbed-wires I tried to figure out which one of the unnumbered doors was my 17. I spotted a 23 and doublebacked counting it down and then up just to be sure. The number 17 was on a little ledge on the mailbox. I rang the buzzer and waited. Nothing. I rang it again and still nothing. The door was ajar so I knocked twice and pushed it open. The place was a mess. Toys were all over the floor, as were some clothes and shoes. Of all the SOHOs I knew about this was by far the most incorporative of the HOME aspect. I couldn't see anything that might have made suggestions to the fact that a business was operating. Then it hit me. It was just a home. Some one must have left the door unlocked and ajar on their way out for the day. Another look at the notes: "17 Mount Street Walk." I felt even more defeated. Before leaving I took to wiping my prints off the door handle and the buzzer.
I was going to take a little stroll around the harbour and just reflect while watching the waters when I spotted a street sign bearing "Mount Street Walk" on a construction boundary. Looking on the otherside I spotted a 17 and a movement on the otherside of the screen door. I hit the buzzer. A blonde girl answered the door. I asked, "Is this Big Australia?" "Yes" she replied and I was inside. Finally. As the blonde hauled up a refill for the water cooler she told me that the interviewer, Kasey Drayton, was out walking her dog. There were three other blondes working at huge monitors for G4s in the middle of what I assumed to be what would have been the studio bedroom if the house stayed a house. Along one side flanked three more G4s with password: "big" taped to one of the monitors. One of the clocks read 12 o'clock. Kasey entered the place and within seconds after running up the narrow flight of stairs Max was on my lap sniffing at my pant legs and hands full of sweat.
"Aaron?"
"No, I was supposed to be here at 11"
"Well, I have other people to interview..."
"Uh..."
"I'll have to see if I can reschedule you..."
"It doesn't matter"
"So you don't want to work!?"
"I do, but after an hour..."
"Fine then. That's it!"
"Thanks!" and down the stairs I trotted.
On my way back to Darling Harbour I passed this guy checking his armpits through a similar outfit to mine except he was without a tie and his shirt was supremely glossy. I guess that would have been Aaron for the 12. He was a little tardy.
Photographic Digital Retoucher with Classic Color Photography
April 22, 2003 @ 1330
North Parramatta. I was trying to locate 18 Fennel Street amongst the houses and flats. The street numbering was off, but I got there with time to spare. The doorbell was weak and needed a couple of pushes. I pushed once. In a room I faced a closet under stairs and a rack of border corners used for photo frame beefing. In my hand I held a CV but as soon as the interviewer, Tony Lee, stepped into the room I just knew it wasn't for me.The practical interview was conducted on a dual monitor G4 Mac system inside the kitchen. The keyboard was extremely grimy and shiny. Opened was a family portrait in Photoshop 7. From experience in Paintshop Pro I tinkered a little with the Curves of the image to bring out the distinct colours and tones in the image. Adjusting the Brightness/Contrast just doesn't cut it. Then I had to figure out how to take out the shine from the father's bulbous nose. This is where the "test" went sour. I stumbled trying to figure out what the keys on the board were as well as how the hell I was going to dull the lustre. I first tried a Smudging of the adjacent colours and then tried to use a 3 pixel bruch on 100% opacity. Results weren't looking great. Then he comes across and chooses a 50 pixel brush on 40% opacity and does it himself as a comparison on speed and efficiency. "I guess you could do it that way" I told him. Another hint was that he asked, "I take it you're not familiar with the tools here."
The second image was of a family in a park setting walking hand in hand in hand. The toddler's face wasn't good and so the task was to swap another, happier, face over it. I created a layer on the base, lassooed the face over on to the new layer and things went rancid. I was checking out all of the menus looking for the Free Transform box. He showed me where it was. "Pretty distinct border there," he pointed out. There was a glaring border around the floating face that I could not figure out how to remove and I kept asking stuff such as, "what the hell?" "little help?" and "I have no idea what's going on here, do you?"
Either the twenty minutes was up or he just couldn't stand it any more, but he slid the mouse from under my hand and ended it with a definite "NO" It was one of those interviews any one could have gotten had they simply replied to the ad.
--- with Precedent Productions
March 18, 2003 @ 1330
This was an interview arranged by Blighton of the previous interview. Apparently he met up with a fellow at a function and my name came up. Next thing I know, I'm dodging the protestors at Town Hall making my way toward the offices of Precedent Productions.Just as usual I ended up sweating as I broke over the threshold and sat hunched over in the lounge trying to make sure my collar didn't cake over with the sunscreen. I refused a glass of water that was offered to me by one of the workers there. Steve Loe, the interviewer, thought I was asleep in my position. I mumbled, fumbled and ended up in his office. I then accepted the second offer of a glass of water. No doubting that there was a raised eyebrow by the guy who went and fetched the two glasses.
I had no idea what I was doing there or what the business was about.
I showed him some samples of my work and CV. The mood was pretty relaxed and I ended up talking about yoyos, yoyo strings and yoyo tricks. I'm sure that the interview itself was an opportunity for both of us to gauge each other as he never once beyond asking me what I knew about the company what I wanted to do within.
I downed the glass in two gulps and managed to suppress the belch I'm resonantly known for.
If anything the whole ordeal might have been a way for him to consider me in an endeavour that might happen in the near future. Speaking of which he told me a little about himself and how from his bedroom he concocted the idea of the Small Business Awards and liked it when young people have a dream and try to make it a reality.
Twice the air was interrupted by calls to his mobile, during which I snuck a peak at his planner - absolutely full, can't imagine how I managed to get time. Near the end of the interview I reeled off some points I just read off an article about the company and their work in Canterbury Post (I think). Seemed impressed.
When I left for the stairs down I shook his hand and called him Paul. Then backtracked to Steve. Sent him a thank you letter for his time. It was the least I could do.
Journalist / Online Producer with ---
March 7, 2003 @ 1025
It was supposed to be a mock interview set as part of this program to help people who are long term unemployed. I arrived at the place as usual, the others were there and we were all in our interview gear. Three of us chose to have it taped, but instead of going third as I thought, I ended up last and took the longest, 25 minutes, 10 more than the most. The interviewer was a man by the name of Paul Lydmon or some such and reportedly was not a mole or anything like that. Rather a real business man within the community. Having given him our desired job titles we were told that he studied up on them to ask "the right questions."Agony awaits in the lead up to knocking on the door and entering to be filmed and interviewed. Double mass. But the taping was the easiest part of it all. There was much confusion and silence and broken speech on my part. I could feel the time ticking away slowly and deliberately. Just before the end he remarked that he was part of some consortium and that the mock interview wasn't totally mock, rather it was for a real position with a real organization. On hearing this I had questions I wanted to ask but could not bring them out and forth for all to hear. I left the room, but not before thanking him.
Three major stumbling blocks came in trying to answer what should have been simple questions. On the aspect I believe to be my failing: Perfectionism. Yet with the way I worded it I came across as an Obsessive Compulsive and he suggested I check up with my doctor. Dire. Then there was a question about why I thought I was a good journalist - I don't really, but - and I explained away and was told to stop and listen to the actual question. Then I had to explain what The Wax Conspiracy was all about. Somehow we managed to trip lightly on CONSPIRACY THEORIES (starring Mel Gibson and Julia Roberts) and I said ENIGMA at first.
Ballistically?
On watching back the video I noticed many things, as did the rest of the class. I extend my eyebrows up the most and more often than the last one taped, but at least I had better eye contact. It seemed as though I threw my CV in his face and rocked a little when he leafed through some of my work. I tap my leg, the camera did not pick it up, but it did pick up me slamming down on the table we were talking over. The biggest thing to get attention was the fact that due to this new wisdom tooth at the lower left coming through and tearing some gums, I chewed it out manically and fervently as if it was chewing gum. I gesticulate wildly and without purpose.
Student Support Officer (Publications) with Postgraduate Association of UWS
February 28, 2003 @ 1000
Almost missed train due to thinking the interchange was at another station. Mistook a static clock at the station for the real time and hurried along creating an elevated state in a warm climate. Noosed tie on just before a building away from the interview. Met up with John McGuire, (Researcher/Manager) someone I knew from 2002. Little intro to Steven who reminded me of a writing teacher I once had. Started sweating straight away due to the incomplete cooling process before stepping in through the doors. Tried to use the cold walls for conditioning but to no avail.Walked into the interview room like a sweat factory beading constantly and kept swatting away the sweat drops lest they blinded me. Panelled with McGuire, Steven and some woman named Gina from USyd or UNSW something. Not sure. Didn't care. The sweating must have had them worried as it prompted one of them to tell me that although it was still an interview it had the informal feel and they wanted to knock off for a good weekend.
Kept no eye contact as they passed the questions around and I kept drying up and blanking out. Got some good non-verbal feedback when I made certain suggestions and possibilities of what I would do given the job. One question led me to talk about THE NEGOTIATOR (starring Samuel L. Jackson and Kevin Spacey). It was a question whether or not I thought I was a good communicator. They did let me clear it up quickly after though. They wanted to know what The Wax Conspiracy was and I couldn't fathom a succinct thought. I rambled on about the history and how the team actually met. I found myself recalling what I did during my stint as the Publications Officer for the Student Council at Campbelltown and the transference to this position. The sweating finally stopped when I could feel the time was ringing up to the close.
I did not at once meet anyone in the eyes for longer than 5 seconds. I did not shake anyone's hands after the rather whimpered conclusion to the interview. I tried to get out of there as fast as possible and loosened the tie as soon as I stepped out of the building. I should have left more samples of my work. After considering the actually parameters of the job I don't want to be called back. I'd rather a letter of rejection really.
News Editor with FPC Online Publishing
February 25, 2003 @ 1030
First ever interview with a tie and collared shirt and without my monoburn. Walked to the end of Bourke Road but in the Mascot direction. Luckily had extra time to back track and walked over to Alexandria with at least five minutes to spare. Fiddled around with sandwich which was giving off a devon odour. Managed to cool down and stop sweating while waiting for the interview.Unresponsive to when Chris Deal (Editor of Fast Fours VIP) came and brought me in. Winced when Adam McWhinney (Online Services) crushed my hand. Did not sit still and kept trying to make sure my tie wasn't touching the seat, apparently I'd knotted it with too much tail, it went and covered most of my crotch. I could not remember a thing about the job description and tried in vain to bluff my way through. The interview went all the way too informal of sorts when my knowledge (or lack thereof) had all three of us looking out the window listening to McWhinney show off his knack for make and models of cars. An extremely dishevelled man walked by wherein Deal (who once played in a band with Peabody) gave a description fitting for the police.
No matter how many times McWhinney would try and ask a question I invariably ended up talking about something totally off-topic and most of it wasn't even related to the position. I know I went off on some angle when the question of what I could say to make me most appealing came up. I asked them if there was a chance to move on from the position and how the talk moved to their gardening magazine I don't want to know.
Didn't even get a rejection notice. Didn't even hand back the day pass I was given earlier either.
Contract Web Developer with Freestyle Media
February 14, 2003 @ 1400
Took a train to St Leonards and tried to not let anyone figure out I was lost. Walked at least two kilometres West when I was supposed to have only stepped one East. Ventured three suburbs in the wrong direction in the midday sun before I cottoned onto the fact that I was in the wrong direction. Took at least another hour getting back to where I was. Then walked another kilometre/hour around the city of North Sydney. Almost ended up back on the south side of the Harbour Bridge. Asked both a mailman and a taxidriver for directions but both pointed me in the wrong direction. Finally found the building wherein Freestyle Media were supposedly but walked around the building and the block double checking because there was no indication. The time was 1500 when I finally rang their bell. I left from St Leonards at 1200.My friend on the inside was less than impressed by the attire of jeans and a top mixed with a monoburn. When offered tap water in a dusty glass I leapt as I had been sweating constantly for the past three hours. It tasted quite sweet, given perhaps due to the salt levels that had seeped out of my body.
Just before stepping into their meeting room for the one-on-one interview I noticed something rough on my chin. Throughout the entire interview I could not stop touching my face feeling for the dried up sweat which had now turned into salt pellets. I paid more attention to them than the guy interviewing me. There was a point in where he wanted me to roleplay with an irate customer but damned if I couldn't understand a single word he mumbled throughout the side of his mouth. And he mentioned something about me being the one with a communication problem.
The interview then went over to me showing him some of my work to which he dismissed them as being "rather simple." I then turned around and told him what I thought about their website and how sloppy the writing and coding was given the descrepencies I found in a five minute sitting.
I did the closest thing I could to whimpering/storming out and left without even thanking my buddy on the inside for the heads up.
