Unfortunately, You're You

Over the last few weeks I’ve been thinking back over all the jobs I’ve ever held and the one memory that keeps coming back was the time that someone told me that I couldn’t be myself if I wanted the job I’d applied for.

After having been a stay at home Mum for several years, I had decided it was time to get back to the workforce and I saw a job that was, well, perfect for me.

There were a few reasons I thought it was perfect.

Firstly, I could do it. The job was in my wheelhouse.
Secondly, it was local to me. I could walk to this job if I wanted to.
Thirdly, it was term time only. Perfect, I’d be at home when my children needed me.

And, I knew somebody who had this exact job, just at a different place. They could give me some insight! If I got the interview, I was going to have to take a test and they had access to similar tests.

They were more than willing to talk to me about the job and give me a go at the test. Only… they were also the one who said that it was unfortunate that I was me… as I wasn’t the kind of person who could get this job.

I was shocked. I was hurt. And I guess that’s why I didn’t turn around and say something quite rude back to her.

I was too exuberant. I was too flamboyant. To do this role I would need to be like them. I would need to be more serious. I would need to be… not me.

I know that, really, this was coming from a good place. I know that this acquaintance of mine had wanted to help. She had let me sit a test similar to what I was going to sit if I got an interview.

Telling me that I needed to be more like them, less like me. It had worked for them, hadn’t it? Hadn’t they got the job being like them?

And, to be honest, I get it.

I put out an appearance of being, I don’t know, a bit scatty and a bit all over the place. I remember a parent of one of my friends saying that I was not the same person in real life as I was online. Real-life Pippa was more serious, smarter, more organised. Yes, I was exuberant and funny and random, but I wasn’t what they were expecting.

And it’s not a contradiction to be both things. I am smart, organised and hardworking. I am a good employee.

I take my work seriously, even if I don’t always take myself seriously.

The acquaintance, however, may have had a point. They did have the job. They could be as silly as I could be… but they were better at keeping that “professional face” as the visible face.

So, I thought I’d better be Grown Up Pippa™ for the purpose of this interview.

I was going to be composed. I would sit up straight in the reception area, knees together, not on my phone.

I would be restrained, not trying to be funny, not saying the first thing that popped into my head.

I would be sensible and professional. They would look at me and think, “Ooh, look at her, so sensible and professional.”

I was going to wow them with my knowledge. I was going to impress them with my calm exterior; they would think that nothing could faze me.

I would ace the test they would give me; I would do well in the tests that they didn’t think I’d expect to be tests too. I’d be polite to all the staff members I met whilst waiting. I’d smile, not too widely, but enough to show I was friendly.

I wanted this job, so I would be the subdued Grown Up Pippa™ version of me that I was told they would want to hire.

The problem is, of course, I’m a grown-up in the same way a tomato is a fruit.

It was funny because when one of the people on the panel came to collect me from reception before I sat the test, it was someone I knew.

It was actually someone who knew me as both the smart version of me and the exuberant version of me. I took this as a good sign. They knew that I was smart; they knew I had the skills needed, and now I had one less person on the panel that I needed to prove this to.

I sat in an office and took the test that I had been so worried about.

I don’t know why; even the test that my acquaintance had let me practice on had been easy, and yet I was still worried that I was going to fail it.

It was probably one of the simplest tests I’ve ever taken. Not quite pee on a stick easy, but still easy for me. I told you, this job needed skills that were in my wheelhouse.

And then I was taken to another room for the interview. There were three people on the panel: someone who, if I got the job, was to be my boss, someone who was their boss and the person I knew who was sort of the boss of them both. Look, I don’t know how it was structured; it was just how it was, I guess.

Grown Up Pippa™ sat down, and the introductions were made, and then we were off. Questions were asked, I answered, more questions were asked, and within approximately five minutes the panel were giggling with me over something that Grown Up Pippa™ should not have been talking about in an interview.

I remember thinking how stupid I was. Letting the real Pippa out of the bag had been a mistake. Yes, we were having fun, but that wasn't who they wanted. I felt the atmosphere in the room shift. This was no longer an interview; they had made up their minds. Now we were just having a chat before they sent me on my way.

Suddenly I felt light because I knew that I hadn’t got the job; the opportunity had vanished the same way that Grown Up Pippa™ had disappeared into the night.

Now, though, I could relax. I could be me and have fun; I could enjoy the adult company for a bit, and let’s face it, I was out of practice in interviews and needed a game face for them.

Only. I got the job.

I found out later, from my boss, that I got the job not because I suppressed my personality, but because I was myself. They wanted the flamboyant, organised, unflappable, scatty me. They wanted me because, along with the skills and competence I brought to the table, I also brought a feeling of being part of the team. They had wanted me.

I was so excited. I had got the job that I thought was perfect for me and my family. I was being paid to do something that I knew I could do.

And I couldn’t wait to tell my acquaintance that I HAD GOT THE JOB and had remained me. In the interview, I’d had the panel laughing with me and promising to bake me cakes. And did I mention… I GOT THE JOB?!

I guess that she was one of those people who mistakes solemnity for professionalism and exuberance for incompetence.

I guess, unfortunately, I am me.

Fortunately, it turns out that's exactly who they wanted.