I was applying for a load of jobs after uni, compounding the issue was the fact I had a newborn daughter who was born three months after I graduated. I managed to an interview for a place literally five minutes walk away and with hours shifted for anus market, which meant I could have spent every morning with my daughter.

I prepped and prepped, knew the company inside and out then the day before the interview came down with a cold, no problem I thought, I'll see what it's like tomorrow then take some medicine. I woke up shivering, sleep deprived from helping look after my daughter and sweating uncontrollably. I dosed up with medication and didn't factor in that it wasn't the non-drowsy kind.

It took me nearly twenty minutes to walk the five minute distance and when I turn up my suit was a patchwork of various blues, from a rich navy in my armpits to a light periwinkle on the chest. The glass frontage as I walked in alerted me that I looked like an absolute ghoul and for some reason I still did not back out. I met my contact, hoped they didn't notice my crinkled clam hands, then sat down on a sofa to wait. The extra inhaler puffs I had taken were starting to pay off, I was really getting a good breath, nice big deep ones unfortunately it was making my hands tremor. The person interviewing me walked into the waiting area and found me hands shaking deep breathing and asked if I was ok, like any normal person would do.

"Ha, great thanks lovely office beautiful carpet (they had tiles)"

The interview itself was basic questions for the position that I should have smashed "what is dpo", "what process would you follow on an overdue account". I did not get a single one right.

Then they moved onto personality questions :

"What would you do if a colleague had a good idea to help the business?"

"Try to get my name on it"

"Why do you want to work with X plc?"

"I've applied to y plc next door three times and they've always said no"

They were polite and smiled but it was like being in a car crash, just the thud of my job prospects as they go over the bonnet. I like to think I'm someone's horror story.