Things not to say at a job interview ...

Thirty-odd years ago I applied for a job.

Back in those days you were expected to hand-write a short letter of application, accompanied by a professional-looking CV. All applications would be acknowledged by the advertiser, even if you were considered a non-starter.
That was an era of courtesy and accepted protocol.

Now, I say, ‘a job’, but this was to be a professional partnership that would involve my domestic translocation.

For this particular position I was adequately qualified and had suitable experience. I had rehearsed my responses to anticipated questions at the interview I hoped to be offered. I even had some naïve political views that I was prepared to share and justify.

The interview was going well, and my well-practised responses to the interviewers’ delving enquiries regarding professional aspects of the position seemed to meet with approval. I began to relax.

Then we came to, “… and how would you go about integrating with the local society?”
Now, I hadn’t practised this one.
Hobbies and pastimes would have been OK, but ‘social integration’?!

“I would probably attend Church,” I offered, rather too hastily.

(Now, bear in mind I am referring to a bygone age when it was entirely PC to advertise: “Christian practice requires someone of similar views …” So-worded had been this advertisement. We all knew that in reality that meant “British, white and middle class.” Applicants were expected to lie!)

My response was met with warm smiles that perhaps belied some circumspection on the part of my interviewers, who appeared to be wringing their hands rather nervously.

“Anything else?” one of them asked.
I paused.
Should I tell them about my passion for steam engines?
What about philately?
Do I tell them that I am a competent bicycle maintenance person?

“Yes,” I replied after thinking for a while; “I like folk music so I intend to seek out any local folk clubs.”

The silence, after a sharp intake of breath, in unison, was palpable.
The four members of the interviewing panel exchanged enigmatic glances. The corporate hand-wringing became more obvious, and I am sure that one of them kicked her neighbour under the desk that separated me from them.

“Fine, kindly leave us to consider for a few moments.”
I was ushered into the ante-room of the WC.

Within seconds the practice secretary was despatched to convey the outcome.
I think she smiled as she said to me, “I am terribly sorry …”

I rarely attended Church after that.
I still like folk music.