unemployment

So I don't know if I already wrote about this on here, but I had a job interview for/at clintons cards the other week.
I say "interview" but it was actually a "group assessment" or as I like to call them "make a fucking twat out of yourself session".
We had to build card houses, do a little maths test, then the worst part was they made us all go down into the store and mill about to "show them what customer service was", which was fucking horrendous, and basically meant walking up to people in the shop and pestering them. It was a Wednesday afternoon, the shop wasn't even that busy and there were 7 of us interview morons stalking what few customers were in the place. I would have no problem offering people help if I actually worked in the place(and they actually asked for or wanted it), but at an "interview/session" I felt like an absolute dick. Needless to say, I failed this part miserably.

At the end the woman really really hammed it up, how brilliant and marvellous and solar system bendingly fantastic we had all been and how terribly hard it was going to be to make a decision.
So I expected to hear from them a little bit sooner than 8 days later. Obviously by the first day or two it was pretty obvious I wasn't in luck, fair enough, but it pissed me off that she said they'd send letters out, after hamming it all up so much, that I had to wait so long for the reject letter.

Anyway, in conclusion, I am never attending a group session interview ever again because they are bullshit. Thanks clintons for making me make a knobhead out of my self, for making me traipse to middlesbrough for fuck all, for wasting 2 hours of my life, for making me wait over a week to let me know you didn't want me, for making me buy shit interview clothes that I needn't have bothered with when I'm already fucking skint.

And by the way, what my favourite film is has no bearing on a job interview, and I lied when telling you the dreamers was my favourite film because "what it said about me" was that I liked french things. Actually what it says about me is that I want to bone Louis Garrel, and Eva Green makes me question my sexuality. Maybe if I'd told the truth, I'd have got the job?!