They say, that in order to do unpaid internships, you need to be able to make regular withdrawals from “the bank of Mum and Dad”. This is a myth; the bank of Barclays will suffice (or Natwest, or HSBC, or even the Co-Op if you're a real kook.) My overdraft facility allowed me to offer my clueless graduate services for free, for a good four months; but after a while even your bank turfs you out. I had overgrown my warm and cosy interest-free student overdraft cocoon, and found myself out in to the big bad world of thirty-percent interest. It was time to get a job, the kind that pays money.
After handing out a wad of C.V.s, I got called for interview at a designer underwear store. I started envisaging myself selling sexy under-crackers to hot young customers who looked like Tom Hardy and Megan Fox. “They have clearly called me to interview”, I thought to myself, “because I am the type of person that you want to buy sexy undies off; I'm well turned-out, discreet and sophisticated.'” I imagined future conversations, “What did you do in your early 20s Hannah? ” “Well I'm glad you asked, Oprah, I was a free-lance journalist, and worked in a lingerie shop on the side.” Yeah. Sounds good.
But as I arrived at the store for my interview, the dream of being a pristine retail queen deflated quicker than a chicken fillet popped by a biro. The store was immaculate and sophisticated, the staff were immaculate and sophisticated, the screensaver on my phone is a photo of my cat watching Gregg Wallace on Masterchef; I didn't belong here.
It hadn't occurred to me to prepare for the interview. In retrospect, it would have been a good idea. After a few questions about my experience, Anja, the flawless Scandinavian manager hit me with: “So what do you know about the brand?”. Good question Anja what do I know about the brand? Very good question. I blurted out something about clear branding and clean lines. She then asked me to talk about some current trends, at which point I found myself saying an arbitrary collection of words:“erm… you see a lot of sports luxe, I know tribal was in for a while.” I sounded like a Mum trying to be down with the kids. The inanities continued as I floundered: “that over-the-top Lana Del Rey look's very big at the moment” (Lana Del Rey, really?). And then it happened again, like a tick; “nice clean lines are big”. That's right Hannah, in fashion they don't like dirt, especially on lines you've nailed it gal.
Anja now tells me that I need to walk around the shop floor for ten minutes, doing “whatever I want”. What did this mean? I lingered self-consciously trying to think of an appropriate action somewhere in between standing still, and pulling a pair of designer Y-fronts over my trousers and lying on the floor in the foetal position making baby noises. In the end, I plumped for picking up a label that had fallen on the floor, before hovering awkwardly near a customer.
Now Anja was going to ask for my “thoughts” on what I had seen in my ten minutes. As we took a turn around the shop floor, a strange thing started to occur; a voice began to speak, it seemed to be coming from the hole in my own face. The voice, which was significantly posher and three octaves higher than my own, started muttering things like “I really like the way you have your lounge-wear sharing a rack with the lingerie; you just discover one whilst you're looking for the other; it's a really organic shopping experience.” As these words spilled out my mouth, I came to the frightful realisation that they had actually been devised by my own brain. Before I could continue, Anja (sweet Anja) cut me off – “yeah they're just sharing a rack at the moment to make room for our sale items.”
“Oh sure. Yeah of course yeah. Organic, yeah”
At the end of the interview Anja told me “We will contact you on Monday saying if you get the job," adding with a head-tilt and shiny smile – "or if you don't." On my way out, it is highly likely that I shouted “CLEAN LINES” a few times more, just for good measure. It is less likely that I will get the job.
But thirty percent interest isn't so bad really, when you think about it.
Hannah Meltzer
You can read Hannah's blog HERE and follow her on Twitter @HannahMeltzer
