Stunts ....
I land in the Boston airport at around 10:00 pm on this eventful Thursday. I'm feeling hungry, having not eaten anything in the last eight hours except for peanuts and pretzels. I stroll out of airport to find that it is freezing outside. I quickly take a cab and request to be taken to the hotel, with my stomach still pleading to be fed. The hotel is in the city outskirts and thats where the company I would be interviewing with tomorrow is located. Somehow the cab driver manages to lose his way that night. Only later do I come to know that he was circling around the destination for quite some time. Finally we reach the hotel, I grudgingly tipped the driver and dragged myself to the hotel lobby. Luckily the receptionist does not say that I do not have a reservation. I ask him if there are any restaurants nearby and my stomach is screaming in the mean time. A horizontal nod, followed by, "No, no hotels".
With that shock, I walk to my room, number 333, half the number of the beast. I do not have a good feeling about this number. I figure that nothing else can go wrong since I have the suit pressed, tie knotted, shoe polished, and I have even brought along the shoe polish ... just in case. OOooops ! I quickly open my briefcase and my hunger is killing me. The worst has happened, the liquid shoe polish has spilled and my white shirt has a big balck blotch on it. I try to panic, but "Don't Panic" said the great Douglas Adams, so I obeyed. I try to wash off the black mark, but it is more stubborn than I am. It prevailed. Ok ... the best thing to do under these circumstances is to sleep. I sleep ... at least try to sleep. The bed is so stuffed with springs that they keep creaking all night long and I cannot sleep. This is turning out to be a disaster, I think.
I wake up at 7:00 in the morning, having slept for less than two hours last night. The lucky part is that the interview is at 1:00 pm and I have some breathing space. I gobble a bagel and gulp down a litre of orange juice. My stomach has grown numb. I have to do something about my shirt. I call a cab and rush to the nearest shopping mall. I realize that shopping malls are not open at all times. Finally the mall opens and I buy a formal shirt. I return to the hotel at around 10:30 am and am all tired and weak. I try to force open my eyes but cannot help sleeping for about an hour. I wake at about 11:45, get dressed for the interview, and call a cab. I remember that the interview would go on for about 3 hours and I did not have lunch. AAAaaah .. hunger came back and also came the cab. Off I went to the interview.
Two weeks later, I was offered the position. Peace.
With that shock, I walk to my room, number 333, half the number of the beast. I do not have a good feeling about this number. I figure that nothing else can go wrong since I have the suit pressed, tie knotted, shoe polished, and I have even brought along the shoe polish ... just in case. OOooops ! I quickly open my briefcase and my hunger is killing me. The worst has happened, the liquid shoe polish has spilled and my white shirt has a big balck blotch on it. I try to panic, but "Don't Panic" said the great Douglas Adams, so I obeyed. I try to wash off the black mark, but it is more stubborn than I am. It prevailed. Ok ... the best thing to do under these circumstances is to sleep. I sleep ... at least try to sleep. The bed is so stuffed with springs that they keep creaking all night long and I cannot sleep. This is turning out to be a disaster, I think.
I wake up at 7:00 in the morning, having slept for less than two hours last night. The lucky part is that the interview is at 1:00 pm and I have some breathing space. I gobble a bagel and gulp down a litre of orange juice. My stomach has grown numb. I have to do something about my shirt. I call a cab and rush to the nearest shopping mall. I realize that shopping malls are not open at all times. Finally the mall opens and I buy a formal shirt. I return to the hotel at around 10:30 am and am all tired and weak. I try to force open my eyes but cannot help sleeping for about an hour. I wake at about 11:45, get dressed for the interview, and call a cab. I remember that the interview would go on for about 3 hours and I did not have lunch. AAAaaah .. hunger came back and also came the cab. Off I went to the interview.
Two weeks later, I was offered the position. Peace.
2 Comments:
Keeping your mind off the interview is one of best tactics to do well in one. And with so many events happening, I am not surprised you went in fresh and cracked it. Congrats once again.
Hi Don,
This is Point5 here from Jam. Nice blog man....where r u ?
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