It’ll be fun

Well, it was a tremendously close decision, we had excellent candidates.  Weren’t we lucky?  We have been so anxious.  Turning people down wasn’t made any easier by liking them personally and having built up a rapport over two days, but the delight of the successful man was a pleasure to hear.

Just before the final interviews, I spoke to a member of staff and she asked how I felt, and I realised that my heart was pounding so hard that I could hear it.  Last time that happened, Badgerdaddy had me striding up a steel hill outside Ludlow.  I didn’t reach the breathless stage admittedly, but it was very demanding.

Not that I did the preliminary work, three other governors did that.  I handed over chairmanship of the committee to someone else, who has superb organisation skills, and the paperwork to two others, who did so much work, very well indeed.  My forte came over the interview process, when my ability to be bossy came to a fore.  There’s no beating about the bush, there are times when I take over.  Though shy in my younger days, I learned Social Skillz and they stand me in good stead, especially now I’m not.  Shy, I mean.

I’m still high as a kite I have to acknowledge, but will slump later and, I hope, sleep soundly tonight.

7 comments on “It’ll be fun

  1. nick

    I’ve never been on an interview panel, but I imagine it must be almost as nerve-racking as being one of the applicants. Especially when it’s an equal ops interview and you have to be scrupulous about objectivity and lack of discrimination. Interesting that you used to be shy but are now confident enough even to be bossy. I’d love to be a fly on the wall when you’re doing the bossy bit!

    Reply
  2. Z Post author

    I have no problems with the equal ops, Nick, I know all the pitfalls and haven’t unwittingly fallen into any of them yet. It can be hard when there are internal candidates you like and respect, which was the situation for the temporary promotions, knowing you have to choose – but we take a professional attitude.

    We decided to send one of the candidates away before the final interview session, that was hard. I liked him, he’s good but not right for the school at this time. I couldn’t palm it off on anyone else, I told him myself. But my vice-chair told the losing final candidate, she is compassionate and would have done it well. I would have but she spared me. I got the job of telling the successful one.

    I’m not shy, John, but I was at one time. I was afraid of being found out – now everyone knows I’m a fool and I don’t mind at all.

    Reply
    1. nick

      Interesting that you think you were shy because you were afraid of being found out. I don’t think I’ve quite learnt that lesson yet, I still want to hide myself too much.

      Reply
      1. Z Post author

        It was appreciating that it’s fine to make mistakes, to be a fool, to fail, to need help. Once you laugh at yourself, you’re not afraid any more.

        Reply
  3. 63mago

    Well done Z !
    All your self reflection makes you outstanding and distinguishes you from others who may be in danger to make a decision too easily. You are in command of yourself and of the situation. Possibly you do not want to hear it, but you are able to lead by natural authority. Exactly the fact that you know yourself, have the ability to reflect, recognize, and act (!), does make you so wertvoll. And whoever is around you in such a situation better listens, watches, and follows you.
    I hope you found the right person, I’m sure you all gave your best and put all you had into it. Time will tell the rest. I seriously believe that only someone who understands his own foolishness has the basic ability to understand other people, in their situation, their roles et al. You are no fool. You are someone who knows humans.

    Reply
  4. Z Post author

    Useful (I had to look it up), Mago, you’ve hit it right on the head! I dearly love to be useful, and sometimes that’s by keeping in the background and sometimes I find myself stepping forward, whether I know I’m going to or not. My sister calls it ‘mouth overtaking brain.’ But I spent half my life watching, listening and not saying much (I know that’s hard to believe now) and the change started when I started offering to help instead of waiting to be approached. And thank you, time will tell – but I’m sure it’ll work out.

    Reply

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