Detailed explanation of my bombed intervew

Thursdays at York are party nights, and the week prior to my interview was the opening night for a new club off-campus.. Talk of1.50$ tequila spread around campus like a wild-fire.

I didn’t go out that Thursday night. With stern self-discipline I committed myself to greater interests; my grades. But I devoted this year to A-grades - and my friends had just a hard time believing it as I did. So I ended up scouring over youtube videos that night. The clubs launch was a huge success. No big surprise.

The following Thursday rolled around and I wrote my exam.

Reeling off my success, I walked home feeling like million bucks. I just wrote an perfect exam and soon I’d be off to central America courtesy of York International and their generous bursary. I was unstoppable. I threw in my iPod, cranked it up and strutted around campus like a jackass. I was gliding. I paid no attention to anybody in my crowded path, My eyes focused intensely on some indistinguishable vanishing point in front of me. I am the shit. I sang out loud passing by people on the sentinel road strip- I felt like the star in a music video. Some sort of retardedly cool York music video though. Any second I could bust into dance like M.J’s thriller video, and I wanted to. I could have jumped up and swung myself horizontally around a street pole and keep walking without breaking pace. This shits a joke. That’s how confident I was.

Nonetheless when I got home, after a bit of bragging, I humbled myself for a few minutes. I prepared myself for my Internship interview which was 10 o’clock the next morning. I remember the York interview two years ago- I was going to Spain for a study year abroad. That was a cake walk, and this year I was more enthusiastic and even more qualified. With confidence, I wrote down the reasons why I’d be the best person for the job– Now prepared, I then decided I was going out because I sure as hell wasn’t going to miss out on 2 consecutive pub nights, or worse off, let my friends down.

When I set out that night I was determined not to party too hard. I was even doing a good job of it. I had a few pre-drinks at my friend’s house, enjoyed the music and the company – quite moderate, and then I got a phone call. It was a friend from work. This girl created envy among my friends, she was tooo attractive, and I was the only guy working with her. Now she wanted to join the party. When she arrived she said she wasn’t drinking- she had work the next morning. That’s fine I thought - not everybody was obligated to bask in the glory of my perfect exam or my soon-to-be internship placement.

When we went to the bar it was true- the shots were 1.50. But I didn’t go crazy. I only made the mistake of letting my guard down for 1 second – then the circumstances changed- My hot friend started encouraging me to drink- yes she caught a wind of energy and decided to make up for her unenthusiastic pre-drink. She decided I should be her chugging partner. Well this is never a good idea I thought, or should have… but I went for one..

Somewhere between a sober-entrance, some harmless drinks, and then overly-engaging myself on the dance floor, I tipped my party-hat a little too far. My work-friend hunted me down on the d-floor. Again, I was dragged to the bar . Again I was her drinking partner. Absolutely no resistance to be found. As she explained days after, she needed a drinking partner because she didn’t want to be seen chugging by herself, this of course would make her “look bad”. As the case with most lovely attractive girls, I agreed, and the focus stayed on her with no attention paid to my quickly deteriorating state … Either way, if somebody told me I should stop right there, Im not sure I would have. The spirit of this spontaneous and badly-timed makeshift New Year’s party was flowing through me. So I chugged along w some type of retarded determinism- as if chugging solo was a mortal sin I was gonna save this girl from .

So continued the fiasco… the dancefloor, the bar, wherever the party took me. My guard now completely down-


This carried on too long until a friend , a very good and responsible friend ( named Gabriel), came up and gave my head a shake. Although it didn’t work, he reminded me of my internship. The job interview? Ha, At this point I was more confident about the job interview than I would be had I already been accepted.


….ok to wrap this long story up ,

– So in my completely inebriated state we took the taxi home and I wouldn’t stop boasting about the blurry job-specs of the internship - now obviously and completely secured in my mind. I don’t remember anybody objecting, or telling me how stupid I was for partying the night before an interview. They may have got a tongue-lashing for being irrational.
.. I don’t remember but either way but I went to sleep a champion and woke up a disaster . I was awaken when one of my house mates ( a good friend Rania) poked her concerned head through the door and told me I had my interview. ‘Wow’. I got up and looked around. ‘Yea no kiddin’.. A stupid, dense look on my face. Finally something clicked and I jumped into the shower. I scrubbed vigorously, as if I could take off the drunkenness. The alcoholic cloud still filled my head. I strained my blurry eyes on the page I had written the day before. It was useless! I had to wing it! I walked nervously down the street – the same street that had been my dance floor the day before. When I entered the room, I looked across the long table at the sober faces staring at me. I felt very awkward- like strangers shuffling around in an elevator after somebody farted. Silence. Ok Concentrate! alcohol filled the room. I wasn’t able to properly connect words with thoughts. I felt like I should be shouting on a dance floor , laughing, or yelling across a bar- not sitting in a silent room trying to talk sensibly. Damn..

As I said my last parting words, I made one last attempt to express my devotion and aspirations for the internship, nobody looked sold and it didn’t win me any assurance. One particular glance I got from Larissa seemed a little peculiar. I left the room still not sure if the interview was a complete disaster, or just my head . I knew I had solid credentials but my gut instinct was flashing me some serious warning signs. But was I busted? without doubt.