Having a cold is good news for weight loss. Not so much for anything else. Everything tastes like cardboard and I really can’t be bothered eating. When the scales told me I’d lost another pound and was officially the lightest I’ve been for probably ten years I was jumping up and down inside but I couldn’t actually muster the energy to do it for real.
Mac literally sprayed me with disinfectant when I got to the office. He spent the whole day keeping as far away from me as possible in such a tiny office. That suited me fine. I blamed him for the Mad House debacle and I was sulking. He let me go early, not out of the goodness of his heart, just because my coughing was giving him panic attacks.
In the end it turned out to be a good thing because I’d just got in the door when my phone rang. It was The Mad House asking if I’d got a moment to do a telephone interview. Not only did they like my CV and think I was just the sort of person they were looking for, they liked my application too. Wonderful. At least I didn’t have Mac pulling faces and holding up little notes all the way through it.
As telephone interviews go this wasn’t one of the best. For a start I kept coughing like a hundred a day smoker with terminal bronchitis. I had to keep holding the phone away from my face and apologising for the coughing. Still, it did give me time to think about my answers. Every time the woman asked a tricky question I faked a coughing attack. Most of them weren’t fake though. My chest hurts. Maybe I should see the doctor.
I don’t know why I tried so hard to make a good impression. It isn’t as if I want to work there but I’m just too eager to please, it’s in my nature. She liked me, said I’d fit in really well and invited me to a face to face interview next week. How many interviews do they want? This one is going to last four hours with a role play exercise amongst other things. Four hours!