Following on from my previous post, I have now been to both job interviews and today is the 8th October.

The first “interview”, at a guesthouse in Westport was a fairly informal affair. I entered the building and was ushered into the main lounge. I sat down and absorbed the decor, which was an incredible assault on the senses, where wild gaudiness and fussiness battled it out for dominance. After my eyes had become accustomed to things, I had a relaxed chat with the owner while another lady who also worked at the guesthouse watched from the sidelines, occasionally piping up with a choice statement.

I played the role of amiable, jovial caterer with a uncrushable willingness to be of help wherever possible. After all, the job advertisement had simply read “person wanted”, so my options were as broad as could be. The owner rambled initially, skirting around the history of the guesthouse and how incredibly tough it is to run such an establishment. I nodded and made plenty of positive sounding noises at the right times. This impressed the proprietor enough to engage a bit deeper in conversation and show me around the place. Each bedroom door was enthusiastically swung open for me, I took a couple of steps around and made further positive sounds in the direction of the proud owner.

After feeling I’d spent enough time listening to the fluffy talk and mindful of having another interview to go that day, I started probing with more direct questions like “so what exactly would the advertised role involve?” and “when would you require me to start if I was lucky enough to be taken on?”. These fundamental questions were met with further fluffy responses, along the lines of, well, if you’d have called a couple of weeks back, we would be a lot busier. You see, things are quietening down now. I’m also looking for a manager to run the place.”

My questions were bouncing off a wall of utterly conflicting responses.

I said I’d be happy to take on any role. More fluffy answers.

I was wasting my time. She had no idea what she wanted. I thought I’d made a catch, but I’d reeled in a rusty bean can. An empty, gaudy one at that.

Quite how a place functions with no clear sense of direction baffles me. I figured it must be because its location, popular with tourists, allows for sloppy control and is forgiving with its endless supply of fresh customers. In a more competitive environment, where guests have to be fought for and won, this place would be on its knees. Anyhow, the highlight of the meeting was being given a coffee and slice of homemade apple pie, so at least I wouldn’t have to find some lunch before heading over to Ashford Castle for the next interview.

I said my goodbyes and how delightful it was to have spent the last hour or so discussing things.

On to the castle.

Here’s a bit of background info to set the scene:

A short promotional video of the hotel

A review of the hotel

Now, as I’m writing this, I can feel myself wanting to fully unleash my verbal attack through this blog after having swallowed my real thoughts during this interview. Digital therapy!

I heard the same empty words coming from this mouth as the guesthouse I’d just come from. It’s very hard work, blah blah blah. Having just listened to all this not less than an hour ago, I politely waited for the lady to finish and said:

“Well, as you can see from my CV (on the table in front of her), I previously established my own business and that is also hard work. I’m not afraid of working if the work is readily available.”

How about not telling me how very hard it is and just letting me get on and prove myself on the job. I can decide if it’s tough for me or not. Stop talking the job into existence and let me experience it. Is this a form of self-validation on their part to justify their labour to themselves? Harder work does not necessarily equate more worthy work.

I was asked why they should choose me over another. I thought for a moment and said sincerely “I won’t let you down”. The lady looked at me for at least five seconds without saying a word. Utterly unwilling to add to this statement and bewildered at what could be taking her so long to calculate, she finally broke the silence by saying “is that it?”.

I said “well what else is there?”.

She launched into a rehearsed soundbite about how at Ashford Castle, a customer’s expectations should be surpassed and staff are required to have endless knowledge about the history of the place to relay to guests. The very highest levels of service are required at all times.

This continued until I butted in:

“What’s the hourly rate?”

Just over minimum wage.

I suppressed a scoff.

A couple of days later, I had a call, asking me back for a trial.

Next post……the trial.