why?
Well you never know...
done?
Yes! July 2006
I was planning to wait until a nice juicy Chief Executive job came up at a FTSE100 company and then put in my CV. But I did have a feeling that this would rather futile as they would just chuck it in the bin. Then the Em Led had a cracking idea:
The Appentice! This job apparently pays over one hundred grand so it seemed perfect. They were looking for people for Series 3 so I got online on the deadline day and quickly got my application off.
I don't actually think that I would take a part on the show even if the unlikely scenario happened and I were offered a place. I like my current job and would not really fancy spending 14 hours a day coming up with a sales campaign for a shitty Amstrad stereo, but I thought it could be fun going through the application process and maybe see the type of people that applied if I managed to get an interview. After sending off my application I received the following e-mail:
Brilliant! Now I have a feeling that they probably interview everyone who applies but all the same, it is a day out and would probably be a laugh. Em Led had to work on this day so I thought I'd round up some friends to come along. Bailey, Inggy and Inggy's girlfriend Sam were free so we met up on the outskirts of London and got the tube to Hammersmith. The day had something of a secondary aim as Inggy has never really been to London. He had had a few visits as a kid, but never as an adult and is rather scared of the place. Oblivious to the fact that we all grew up in Sunny Nunny where you are more likely to be beaten up or verbally abused compared to almost anywhere else in the world, Inggy is frightened off London and he shares the same view as Alan Partridge that if you go to London you "will either be mugged or unappreciated". So we thought we'd quickly get the interview done then see some sights before heading home.
Having found the hotel I ventured upstairs as the other three set off for some touristy fun for Inggy. I took the lift to the large conference room on the first third floor, signed myself in and sat down with around 40 other people all there for interviews. If nothing else this was great for people watching. You could pretty much put all the people there in to four catagories:
1. Women between the age of 22 and 35 who were dressed in suits from Next, had far too much bad make-up on and gave you the feeling that if they were out on a night out with you and all your friends that they would be the one that all the other girls would hate.
2. Balding, portly guys generally over 35 in cheap linen suits who have collar-length hair and look like the type of guys who sell coat-hangers for a living, stay at Travel Lodges and shag bored housewives that they met through internet swinging sites.
3. Guys between the age of 22 and 35 with really, really bad overly-gelled hair, very sharp suits and wear thumb rings (always a no no). They were all probaly on graduate schemes with companies with two names that no one can ever exaplain what they actually do aside from make a ton of money - Anderson Hofflar, Grason Hodges, Typeman Radish, Yoffson Mellows. I made them all up, but you know what I mean. They probably do consultancy which sounds very important but again, no one actually know what it is.
4. Balding twenty something guys staring intently at the other people in the room, reading the Independent and trying to work out how the females in the room actually managed to get that much make up on their face and how certain males managed to get that much gel in their hair.
Actually, number 4 was just me.
After a ten minute wait (they are very efficient at Thames Television) I was summoned in to a large room with about 30 people sitting behind individual desks interviewing one person each. Each of the interviewers looked liked a media studies student on work experience. Which they probably were.
My interviewer was called Andy and he was a very nice chap. He asked me quite a few questions about what I currently did and why I wanted to work for Sir Alan. I told him the truth about my job but couldn't really tell him I was applying because of my website, so I replied that I found Sir Alan's beard very intriguing and I used to own an Amstrad stereo. He then asked me questions about whether I would lose it on the show and how I would react if i was stabbed in the back. I said that I reckon I could cope with seven weeks living in a luxury house with a bunch of tossers by the Thames and I would simply rise above any backstabbing and act maturely, which doesn't make great telly and I would have probably been best saying something else like:
"I would get a large carving knife out the kitchen and stab them in the lower back, right next to their kidneys. You stab me metaphorically, I will stab you back literally. You cunt."
That makes great telly.
After around 10 minutes Andy put his hand up as I was in the middle of a sentence which was obviously a sign for "this guy is a knob-jockey, please get him out of my sight" and I was ushered towards the lift by another memner of staff.
I rang my mates, found that they were in Harrods and went over to meet them. We then wandered over through Hyde Park and took Inggy to Buckingham Palace as we couldn't think of anywhere more touristy.
Around a week later:
Bollocks to 'em. I'll wear more make up and hair gel next time.
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