An icebreaker. A stupid icebreaker that would set my ginger cheeks on fire. It was the worst job interview outline I could ever imagine. Seventy applicants, a third of us would eventually be chosen, and before any of the real trails took place, the first task was to stand infront of the seated crowd and explain how a chosen object from our home represented our personality.
Beep, beep, be…
Snooze.
I was late waking up and severely hungover.
Beer pitchers were still exciting at twenty years old.
I rushed out of the house, only remembering the first task duties just before I locked the back door.
…object that represents me, object that represents me, aghh fuck, that’ll do...
I picked up a steel tea-strainer of off the kitchen side. One of those ones that when you pinch the long throngs, the two rounded heads open up at the top.
I sat on the train staring at it, madly chewing three pieces of gum in the hope that my alcohol breath was vanishing.
I like tea?
Boring.
I separate the good stuff from the bad?
Too obvious and also boring.
Oh well.
I walked in. I was handed a number and shown to a seat in the back row. They were half way through the fatal icebreaker.
“This is my old teddy. Her names Jemimah. She represents me because I am also a bit tatty and worn out but if you treat me kindly, I am also loveable and sweet”.
I was almost sick. From that and the nerves and the hangover.
“Well these are my favourite pair of socks. You can see I’m not the adventurous type, these have those sticky rubber things on the bottom to stop you slipping up on your kitchen floor and I definitely need that on a Friday night…”.
A small murmur of laughter. This guy had prepared well.
"Sixty eight?".
Here comes the red face.
“I brought in a tea strainer and I know what you’re thinking, it is possibly the most English thing to choose. It is and yes I am English”.
Ok, average start. Spice it up.
“But that’s not why I brought it in… You can see it has long stiff throngs that stick out, and they are like my limbs…”.
I began doing a strange robotic dance, walking around with locked legs. What the fuck?
“…and when you pinch the throngs together it also has a sporadically opening head. That reminded me of the random thoughts I have under pressure”.
A man in the front row chucked, maybe out of sympathy.
Keep going, you got this.
“And you see, this thing looks like an interesting contraption at first, complex and almost nerdy. But in reality, it’s just for making tea, a plain, simple cup of tea. And that’s me. I like to come across intelligent, even kind of modern, but deep down I’m just a simple, old-age, English tea making machine. You sir, you want two sugars or three?”.
I looked at the man in the front row who was half-smiling, hand on his chin.
He never answered but for some reason, he did give me a job.