Today’s topic is to Share a story of a memorable job interview. Few of mine have been in any way memorable (though I remember thinking at the one for my current job “nah, don’t think I’ll take this”, and I‘ve been here nearly nine years now), so again the realms of fantasy have to take over. So, what’s the most memorable job you could apply for?….
The cardinal knocked gently at the door. “Come in,” said the Pope. The cardinal bowed low and said “excuse me, your Holiness. but there’s a man outside who says he wants the job.”
“What job?” asked the Pope.
“He says he wants to be God.”
The Pope sighed, but the Bible had taught him to be kind to the afflicted. “Send him in,” he said.
The man who entered introduced himself by the rather unlikely name of Tinman and sat in the chair opposite the Pope’s desk. He crossed his legs but then, as if remembering something he’d been taught, uncrossed them again and sat with his arms folded in his lap instead . He gazed expectantly at the Pope. The Pope gazed expectantly back (perhaps this is where the expression ‘pregnant pause’ comes from).
“Er, well?”, said the Pope, eventually.
“I was waiting for you to start,” said Tinman.
“Start what?” asked the Pope.
“The interview, of course. I’m here to apply for the job of God, so I expect you to interview me. You can’t just give the job to the first guy who turns up. After all, I could be a complete nutcase for all you know.”
“This is true,” said the Pope slowly. “So, er, you wish to apply for the job of God. I, well, I don’t remember being it advertised as vacant.”
“Oh surely yes,” said Tinman. “You hear it everywhere. We all know of people who have sought God their entire lives, but have never found him. We read constantly in the paper that we live in a Godless society. We hear people say “there is no God“, though usually only when their neighbour has won the lottery instead of them. Clearly he’s gone.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
“Different planet, different universe, different reality, who knows? Well, I think we need a God, so I want to apply for the job.”
The Pope felt he’d better humour him for a while, so decided to use some tried and trusted interview questions. “Do you have any references?” he asked.
“My mother thinks I’m God,” said Tinman.
“I see. You’re Irish, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I am,” said Tinman, impressed that the Pope had recognised his accent, since this entire conversation was, of course, taking place in Latin.
“And wouldn’t it be fair to say that all Irish mammies think that their son is God?”
Tinman thought briefly about his wife Mrs Tin, and her attitude to Tinson1. “Yes, I suppose you’re right,” he conceded.
“Does any one else believe you‘re God?” asked the Pope. “Your wife, perhaps?”
“You’ve never been married, of course,” muttered Tinman. Then he brightened. “There’s always my children! I told them I was going to be God. The youngest two beamed at me and Tinson1 said ‘yes, Dad, of course you are.’”
There was another pause while they both considered possible nuances to that sentence. “Well, perhaps he’s more of an agnostic,” said Tinman eventually.
“Let’s move on,” said the Pope. “Do you have any experience?”
This question had clearly not been anticipated by the applicant, and a look of panic crossed his face. “Er, like what?” he asked. “I rest on Sundays, if that’s what you mean.”
“I was thinking more of miracles. Have you ever raised someone from the dead?”
“No, but I’ve got three teenage children up for school in the morning.”
“Close enough,” said the Pope. “Have you ever turned water into wine?”
“No, but I’ve turned beer into pee, and if you knew how much the beer in our local tastes like water and how much their wine tastes like pee, you’d see I’m not that far off.”
“Anything else?” asked the Pope. Tinman thought for a second. “Well, I write this blog, and people read it.”
“Now that is a miracle,” thought the Pope. Then he decided to ask the question with which all interviews end, the one the applicants always make a mess of.
“Tell me Tinman,” he said, “where to you see yourself in five years’ time?”
“Everywhere,” said Tinman.
He got the job.