Cliffhanger

What a week. It has been both lovely and exhausting. Lovely to see my friends that I’m staying with along with a handful of others that I was able to sneak a few minutes with. Exhausting to be preparing for one of the biggest days of my professional life.

Whilst I have tried to remain relaxed about the whole experience – you can only do your best and prepare as well as you can – I think that my return to the hospital thoroughfare might have been viewed as a little shell-shocked by those I met up with. Only a few days out of rural Africa and I was walking into the hospital’s coffee shop where one drink costs the same as lunch for five in the hospital canteen in Muheza (and the food was great I hasten to add). But it was so much more than that. For not only was I visiting old colleagues (many of them I would consider friends), I was visiting them in an entirely different capacity.

I was there to sell myself as a credible future consultant within the department. I was there to glean any possible material that might be useful for the big day on Friday – recent developments, news and agendas. I was there to visit the senior hospital management and present myself as a ‘must have’ appointment. I have always felt very at home in this hospital, but for these few days, it was exhausting. I felt like a peacock trying to strut my stuff (probably trying to brush the insatiable red African dust off my feathers), except that I was rusty, wearing a borrowed suit (thankfully it fitted fairly well) and knew that the other four shortlisted candidates would also be visiting, immaculately presented and completely ‘on it’. And I could take absolutely nothing for granted. Being known in a hospital can be an advantage in these situations (assuming you are liked), but it can also present significant difficulty in that there are expectations that you really should know everything about it.

So it was a full on week. Lots of conversations, lots of reading, lots of preparation for possible questions or themes of questions and there was also a 10-minute presentation to prepare. Whilst advice on the importance of this was mixed, given it was the only thing you could actually guarantee (almost) would come up, getting it right was of course crucial. After much deliberation, I had a moment of genius (or so I thought – it felt right anyway) and decided to go completely left field with it. As the idea emerged, it felt very me. The compulsory slides would carry only pictures – no words, no facts, no numbers. Any detail that I wanted to convey, I would have to vocalise by mouth. There would be no reading off the slides. The first ‘content’ slide would feature Usain Bolt.

Risky? Probably. But hopefully it would go well and be different.

Every waking moment this week has been spent preparing or recovering (running and eating meals with my friends certainly got me through it). I prepared and practiced, practiced, practiced. Conscious not to let the topic of my interview dominate my friends’ week too (which of course it did), there was lots of talking to myself; in front of mirrors or the panel of Teddies (who were thankfully not too intimidating, and gentle in their style of questioning).

There is always so much more that can be done in these situations, but by Thursday night I felt that I had achieved a huge amount, my mind was back in the game it needed to be in, and I was as ready as I could be without having done it already.

Friday was interview day and a bizarre experience. I woke up in the morning feeling great and remarkably relaxed, but also very clear as to what was required of me today. I was facing a massive day in my professional life – arguably one of the biggest I would ever face. In this regard, I am very grateful for my sporting background which has taught me that to give it everything I would need to manage my ‘inner chimp’ well (reference to the Chimp Paradox if further explanation required) and stay relaxed. This helped so very much.

The day was to be in two halves, a morning panel followed by an afternoon panel. The expectation being that some candidates would be culled after the morning. I walked into the room on Friday morning feeling a strange combination of emotions; relaxed, excited, an undercurrent of inevitable anxiety, a self-imposed confidence, perhaps to compensate for a natural sense of doubt, happy (to be in this situation) and relieved (that it would soon be over and was all to play for). And then it started, a warm welcome and then…. a googly.

No gentle start for me. The first question threw me. Ahhh. Inner Chimp and entire body systems straight up to Defcon 1! I hope no-one noticed. I employed every tactical option I knew. Breathe…. Smile…. Look relaxed…. Think…. Look thoughtful….Think some more…. Quickly, but clearly. Try not to look like a rabbit in headlights or a naughty child caught red handed in the biscuit tin. An abbreviation had been used in the question that I knew I should know…… I did know…. But nope, it was not going to come to me for that moment. Could I ask for clarification? I probably should have but it was one of those momentary decisions driven by the desire to maintain ‘face’. I knew the ballpark and started to answer. How well I answered is anyone’s guess. To me it felt a bit rubbish. But the interview had started and knew that I would just have to keep chipping away and up my game.

45minutes later and it was all over. I went for a quiet cup of tea and waited for the phone call to tell me whether I had got through to the afternoon. It’s hard not to focus on that first question. The next one wasn’t that much better, but after that the rest of it had gone fairly well. Not a perfect performance by any means, but I had presented me. I would just have to wait.

Unusually, I met up with one of the other candidates whom had been in before me – a friend of mine who is excellent and who I thought would be a great appointment too (I would love to work with him). Rather than see him as competition, for some reason I just hoped that if I didn’t get it, he would. We both laughed at the ludicrous nature of sitting together chatting whilst trying to get the same job. He then went off for lunch with some other friends, I was left to my thoughts and sat quietly looking through my presentation.

The call came and a wave of relief and joy accompanied the news that I had gotten through to the afternoon. I had just over two hours to wait until my next appointment. Two hours to do something with. The gaps and waiting on days like this are the worst thing I think. I had lunch and tried to look some things up online that had popped into my head. The phone reception was rubbish and a broad,  ironic smile crossed my face. The mobile internet service where I was sitting in this modern hospital (I was near a window) was considerably worse than that I enjoyed sitting in the canteen or theatre coffee room in Tanzania! Very bizarre.

The time came to head up to the afternoon’s venue. I was in plenty of time and sat outside the room and waited. It felt like an age and I was twiddling my thumbs, craving distraction. I walked around a bit, shut my eyes and relaxed for a while, and then I looked at my phone – clearly I’m a victim of the digital era. Or perhaps in this case I was a beneficiary. I noticed that there were some WhatsApp messages from my colleagues in Tanzania. I was immediately immersed back into that very different world, almost bodily. It was lovely respite from the moment that I was in. Whilst I was sitting in my suit, tie, shiny (ish) shoes (the red dust was determined but hidden I think) waiting to be grilled, my mind raced away for some light relief in Tanzania – how very ironic given how challenging my time was over there!

The dressings had been taken down from the skin grafting patient and they had sent me photos of the wounds. I studied the pictures closely. They made me smile. Broadly. A genuine happy smile. A tonic for the situation I was in. Certainly early days, but it looked like a substantial proportion of the grafts had taken despite my concerns about low grade infection at the grafting site. One area on one photo looked doubtful, but the rest were great. I tapped my thoughts and response back into my phone. It was very therapeutic and a great reminder of where I had come from. Perhaps this man would keep his leg after all. What a great result. I on the other hand, just had to endure another interview.

The afternoon interview went in a whirlwind. There, I was essentially pitching myself to some of the most senior people in the Trust and two of whom would be working colleagues. I was bidding to be appointed to a job that would hopefully last for the next twenty plus years of my career. The presentation went as well as it could have done and seemed to be well received. Although, were they smiles of encouragement or bemusement – perhaps a mixture of both? The numerous questions were all fair and I think I gave answers that reflected me, even if they weren’t always that polished. They were certainly honest. I walked out feeling like I had given it my best and confident that I had been true to myself.

Then what to do? I was in limbo. Do I wait, or should I go home? I phoned a friend and met for coffee. I was told that the etiquette was that I should wait, as usually a decision would be made on the day, and either way a face to face delivery of that would be preferable.

I sat drinking my hot chocolate (I’ve never been able to get on with coffee) waiting for a call. After a while it became apparent that things were not straight forward. No decision had yet been made. I was told to go home and await a call. I left a little bemused, completely unsure what that meant. Had I flunked it? Had I done well but someone else had aced it? Or was it something else entirely? So many possibilities.

I was in the carpark paying for my ticket when I took a call explaining the situation further. For a variety of reasons, a final decision would not be made until next week. Gulp! I would have to wait over the weekend. I was thrown a lifeline and informed that I was still in the running for appointment. I took a moment, gathered my thoughts and at that moment I was strangely ok with it all. ‘It is what it is’, I told myself. However, things were slightly more complicated as it transpired that I would be in the air on my way to Australia at the time they would want to call me. Hmmm.

I knew immediately that I would not want to be awaiting news of a decision that had already been made. Whilst far removed from normal procedures I am sure, I asked if possible (and deemed acceptable) that an email or WhatsApp message be sent with the result, regardless of the outcome. All things being equal, this would be sent whilst I was airborne and I would get the result when I landed in Sydney.

It was going to be a long weekend. In many ways.