A Spectacular Interview Failure

My trip to the interview turned out to fail for a thoroughly stupid reason in an equally thoroughly unexpected way. The surprising thing is how many things could go wrong and didn't. I carefully figured out where the café is located, decided to walk there (which is a fairly heroic measure, but I didn't have much else to do and didn't want to use up two transit tickets) along a route that was familiar, left myself an hour and a half and decided to use public transit if I was running late, briskly completed the walk (though after the Brandenburger Tor I let myself stroll along at a relaxed pace) and found the café in at most 1 hour 10 minutes. This was ca. 20 minutes early so I sat outside and tried to read more of Humboldt's Ansichten der Natur, specifically a lecture on the characteristics of vegetation based on the latitudinal zone which described in the usual nice manner the formation of lichens on bare rock and the luxuriant growth of the tropical zones (he emphasizes that, though to Europeans of his day hot climates may be associated with the desert, the desert did not always exist in its present extent and in any case the equatorial jungles prove the impression wrong). But it was hard to concentrate.

At nine or ten minutes to 12:30 I entered the café and mentioned to one of the girls at the counter that I had come for the interview. The café owner (who, funnily enough, is (almost) in her 30s and wears her hair in a pixie cut just as I had guessed from her voice over the telephone) was still talking to someone, so the girl said I could sit in the corner nearby and then they would tell me when it's my turn. It was awkward because I was within close earshot of the other interviews, but I turned away and tried very hard not to listen but to read. It didn't entirely work, and I overheard for instance that several people were late, through which I had the impression that the whole interview schedule was dragging anyway. So there were three interviews, and since someone was sitting between us and the café was fairly noisy I was only aware of snatches of the last and was therefore unaware when it ended. At length, however, I did become aware, and asked the lady (who was sitting there a little forlornly) if someone else would still be having an interview before me.

At that moment the person who would be having the next interview arrived. The interviewer inquired how long I had been waiting, and I said "half an hour" (which was a mild understatement, even ignoring the time spent outside), and when she asked I explained about being told to wait, etc., careful not to blame anybody (which I genuinely didn't; the café really was busy and so on and so forth). Then came the shock when she, though expressing commiseration, cancelled my interview so that the schedule wouldn't be wrecked; she asked me to send an "Anschreiben" instead, but it sounded as if the ship had sailed anyway.

So I went outside, where it began to rain just like in a film, very much wanting to burst into an ear-shattering wail like a baby. Instead I took deep breaths to avoid such a drastic reaction and (walking along to the bus station at the Tor) felt sad. The only thought that cheered me up occasionally — besides the standard ones: it can be helpful to channel the disappointment into something else, another valuable (ha!) experience has been gathered, and in the grand scheme of things this may have been a fortunate mishap — was the horrid irony that the one time I plan things perfectly, come truly early, and altogether act in what seems to be the most exemplary manner, I encounter grievous injustice!

The thing with the "Anschreiben" is that the interviewer already has my c.v. as well as an informal cover letter in which I state what my intended career direction is and why I would like the job. Besides, aside from the problem of culinary inexperience, I would have to get the health pass at the last moment (which, as I once read — though perhaps it would be best to doublecheck that —, should be procured in the district of Berlin where the workplace is located), so my chances appear tiny. Thirdly the interviewer seemed harried and mentioned, if I understood the context correctly, that she had tonnes of applications. And frankly I'm grumpy about the whole affair. So I'd like to move on.

Fortunately Gi. and Ge. and J. have been full of sympathy. Gi. even asked if I wanted anything special from the grocery store, like ice cream or chocolate, and returned with a small feast of both before going off to babysit. It also makes me feel better to remember being called overqualified after the last interview and the way it still reassures me that I'm not useless, and to be conscious that for once I did pretty much everything right.