The Interview

I had a shower and a shave. I put on a light coloured shirt and buttoned up the cuffs with lovely cuff links. I chose a nice tie to go with the shirt and my grey pinstripe trousers. My shoes were buffed until I could see a thin reflection of light in their black hides. Finally, I looked in the mirror. And I liked what I saw.

I took the bus to Heng Fa Chuen, then the MTR to North Point. So I wouldn't get lost, and therefore stressed just before arriving at my destination, I had previously dropped a pin on my maps app on my iphone and watched my progress in the form of the pulsating blue dot down the road.

Arriving early, I paused outside the shopping centre and took a swig of water. Light splatters of rain dotted my brow as I took a drag on my inhalator, thankful simultaneously for the shot of nicotine to calm me and for giving up smoking two weeks beforehand so I wouldn't stink of smoke.

At the entrance to the shopping centre, I paused to locate the education centre on the lit up map on the wall. My saunter turned into a light swagger as I approached the education centre.

I was about to knock them dead.

A smiling woman greeted me at the reception, shaking my hand with a gentle touch. Two teachers walked by and said Hello as I glanced at the children's drawings on display. I liked this place.

The teacher then showed me into one of the classrooms and asked me to wait until the woman from HR arrived. The traffic was bad, she said, but she wouldn't be long. 

The classroom was sparse. Funky cartoons of children and dogs adorned the walls, and the only furniture was a small table for kids and tiny chairs. I stood with my bag and waited for the woman to return, inspecting the artwork on display.


The teacher came back in with the HR lady and gestured for me to sit down. I looked at the tiny chair for a moment and did I was told. The chair was so small, I only managed to park one buttock on it at a time.

The main problem with my body is that I am mostly made up of leg. It's a difficulty that requires extra leg room seats on long haul flights and a deep aversion to sports cars. I'm only six foot one, so I'm hardly the tallest person in the world, but most of that six foot one is awkward lankiness.

I sat down opposite the two ladies in trendy trouser suits with a knee either side of my vision and felt like I was about to give birth in polite company. Neither of them had such qualms, being of a petite stature, and managed to traverse the limitations of the Lilliputian furniture with an elegance becoming of the Little Mermaid statue in Copenhagen.

They began to question me on teaching methodology and how best to deal with difficult children as I tried to shift from one buttock to another in my egg cup on stilts without them noticing.

After half an hour of putting my meagre teaching knowledge to the test, they finally asked me about my previous experience in the role. I don't have any - when (if) I finally get a teaching job, it will be my first foray in promoting this fair language on impressionable young minds. I say so explicitly in my cover letter, but unfortunately, it's news to them. They were expecting - and really needed - a person with experience. Crestfallen polite smiles are never pretty.

To any who has ever sat in a meeting where the main point has been said and has time to fill, you will know the awkwardness that followed. I sat there and sweated, answering their questions and thanking God I hadn't gone commando should my trousers rip, until the HR lady called time.

I walked out of there, loosened my tie and swore like a sailor all the way back to the MTR station.

And the moral of the story? Do your research. Fully grown men have bigger arses than you think.