Bloody dog! Bad! Bad Polly! She's still a pup, of course, barley into her doggy-teenager months. I scolded her and she reacted by trying to play. Playing meant grabbing my arm, and her puppy teeth gave me a gash that blead a lot without being serious.
If the neighbours looked over the fence at that time they would have seen me holding a bloody tissue over the back of my hand while I frantically scraped the bottom of my shoe on the grass.
And so I arrived for the interview at the Dubbo Clinical School of the University Of Sydney.
As I walked in with The Dean, he mentioned the bloke they gave the job to originally "Talked A Lot," but the way he said it gave me the impression the previous job holder bullshitted a lot to get the job. Mental note: no bullshitting. Two of the interviewers were at the previous interview when I went for the job originally, and a third was a woman I see every week at Charles Sturt University where I'm doing my BIT. As I sat down my palms started sweating. I didn't feel nervous but my body said "AAAAAAIIIIEEEE!"
I was asked many questions about what I'd done in the past, why I felt I was suited, and what it was about the job that I really liked. That one was easy. "This is the sort of high-end work I enjoy doing, and the real bonus is, IT'S HERE IN DUBBO! You just don't get jobs like this outside Sydney!" They nodded and took notes.
Then we went through scenarios. "Okay, I'm your average idiot user-" ("That's every user" interjected the woman. We laughed.) "-I turn my computer on and it doesn't work. Talk me through what myght be wrong." So I did. It turned out all the plugs were out. I described how he should plug them in, even descibing the stylized mouse and keyboard drawings on the PS2 plugs. ("I think there's a sign on you PC that says 'Den Was Here'" said The Dean. We laughed.)
Another scenario was a little more technical, involving "The network is down. How would you get it up?" I went through that but I was a little vague and told them so. It's not something I've really done on a practical level.
The last scenario was about prioritizing. I had to put The Dean's lack of email last. I looked staight at him and said "Sorry boss!"
45 minutes I was out of there. I feel it was a good interview. My studies wouldn't interfere with the work and "would be to our advantage," said The Dean. I'll know in a few days.