Hospital Case: How To Screw Up An Interview But Still Be Accepted
Heeey reader.
Hope you've been having a good day...er, at least an average one.
Finals are coming soon to kill us....so much for the "happy" holidays.
Annnyways, I'm not here to talk about that.
Instead, I'ma tell you a story that happened to me this Thursday.
Oh, and also this is a pretty long story.
Like, really, really, really long.
So grab some snacks and get comfy.
So this Thursday I had to go to the hospital. No, I wasn't sick or anything. Our hospital has a volunteering program where kids that have graduated eighth grade can have a go at helping out sick people. The process to actually get in is pretty long.
First, there's the application, where you answer a ton of questions that seem exactly the same.
Why do you want to join our program?
What will you do in our program?
How will this program help you?
I turned in my application in July, and man, there were a TON of applications. Like, at least two hundred.
After like two weeks you get a phone call from the hospital, telling you you're application has been accepted, and then they give you info about your first interview, like the date and time. Actually, I didn't take the phone when they called me once, twice...three times. Eventually, I called them back once I figured out who was calling me, and they were pretty pissed at me. But hey, I was still accepted.
The first interview is exhilarating. I was in summer school at that time, and I could hear the flurry of kids in the high school, freaking out about the interview and asking practically anyone around them for advice on what to do.
On the day of the interview, I was all dressed up like I was going to a party. I never wear dresses, but I did for that occasion.
I get to the hospital and go to the front desk. The dude there gave me a sticker saying "Volunteer Services".
"Do you know how to get there?" He asks.
Me: "Actually..no."
The dude hands me a map and tells me, "Go to the elevators. It's pretty simple from there."
I have never gotten more lost anywhere else.
I get to the second floor and I'm thinking, "Yup, I'm a goner." Because all the hospital halls look EXACTLY the same. I'm walking here and there, taking lefts and rights and ups and downs. I mean, I passed a bunch of nurses on my voyage, but my pride stopped me from actually asking for directions.
I found myself in so many places...the waiting room, patient hallways, dark, spoopy halls, the cafeteria, and even back to the elevator.
After like twenty minutes I actually got where I was supposed to be.
To be honest, the interview itself wasn't too bad. I was pulled in by a nice Asian lady with too much eye makeup, but it wasn't too bad.
I'm decent when speaking, but this interview had me so stressed and tongue twisted. Let me give you an example:
The lady says, "Describe yourself in three words."
Me: "Uhhhh....kind, selfless, nice."
*my brain slaps me*
Afterwards, I spend another twenty minutes lost in the labyrinth of halls and eventually use a different elevator to get to the front desk.
Another two weeks pass.
I get another call, and me being me I forget to attend it. I call them again, and the person on the other end is at least slightly less pissed than last time.
I'd made it to the second interview.
Me, the blubbering idiot who couldn't describe herself even with her life at stake, had made it.
MIRACLES DO EXIST.
I was pumped.
They give me the date and time again and tell me "We'll see you there"
I feel sad for the people who didn't make it in. They got a rejection letter in their mail, saying they didn't make it. That must have SUCKED.
A few more weeks pass and it's the day of the second interview. They didn't tell us if we had to dress formally, so I did just in case. When I get to the front desk, the new guy there tells me, "Just follow the orange signs."
You won't believe this, but I almost screwed that part up too. Almost. This kind nurse saw me turning around in circles and pointed me to the glass door that led me outside.
I get there, and I'm sweating. There's like fifty other people, and over half of them were casually dressed. We're all called into one of the rooms, and there are like fifteen people waiting inside, all but one lady wearing a blue polo with khaki pants.
The lady introduces herself. I'll be honest, she reminded me a lot of Oscar the Grouch, but possibly nicer. Last I've heard, all the volunteers both respect and fear her.
So let's give her a nickname too...
What about...
Mrs. Brew?
Sorry, I want coffee. But yeah, Mrs. Brew.
First, she thanks all the people who wore formal dressing. I was like, THANK THE GODS we were SUPPOSED to dress like this.
Then she split the group of people into two. One group was sent away with a half of the people in polos to another classroom, Mrs. Brew trailing behind. The other half, including me, stayed behind.
We were separated into rows of five. The remaining polos sat themselves down in desks out in front of us. Then guess what they start doing?
They call each one of us up, name by name, to the FRONT OF EVERYONE. Then they ask each of us one question. It could be anything, from "How would your peers describe you," to "What would you do if a patient wasn't satisfied with their burger?"
And as you answer, they stare into your soul with their deep, dark, penetrating eyes, with not even a ghost of a smile on their face.
This was an introvert's worst nightmare.
The worst part? You can tell EXACTLY the personality of each person by the way they answer. Some people stepped up confident and loud. Others were as quiet as a mouse, and you could see them fidgeting one way or the other.
Then I was called.
"Ganga Prasanth?" Except, they pronounce it like, GeeAINga. No people. It's GaAAAnga. Like, Short a. Also, the G's like G as in Garfield. So many people have said my name wrong. I mean, I can't blame them, and I'm sure their trying their best, but I can't help but mentally hug the person who says it right and isn't Indian.
All Indians out there (and others with complex names) can relate.
I'm like, "Actually, it's 'GaAAAnga'.", and they're just like "yeah yeah, ok". I go up there and they get all business-like again.
Oh, and I forgot to mention this, but they're all HIGH SCHOOLERS. Sort of hard to take them seriously when they might as well be in your biology class.
They ask me, "You have a big math test today, but you didn't study. What do you do?"
Me: "Actually, I wouldn't forget, 'cause my parents would probably kill me if that happened, and I have a planner and all..."
I'm met by with seven pairs of eyeballs of the polos glaring at me.
I hurriedly continue. "But if I DID somehow forget...I guess I would study somehow anyways. And, uh, ask friends who already how the test was. And if I failed, then I'd ask my teacher for...uh..extra help and stuff...yup."
I said all of this as loud as I could, and by the fact it took me only a few seconds to get all that out, I said it pretty darn fast too.
They excuse me and continue down the list of victims. I noticed that everyone else got called up twice, except for me, and I'm just thinking, "Yup, I've screwed this up pretty bad." We finish up, and it's time for the second portion of the interview.
The polos split our group of twenty fiveish people into groups of five. I'm put in with a group of four girls and a guy, none I've ever seen before.
Then they throw a few straws and a tape dispenser our way, and tell us, "Each group has five minutes to make the tallest staw tower possible. However, you are each allowed to use only one hand. Whoever has the tallest tower wins. Your time begins...NOW."
And that's exactly what we do. I try to support everyone and hiss, "Look, guys, if we want to all make it into Methodist, screw winning this thing. Just act really positive and we should all work AS A TEAM." We try our best, with a polo shirt watching us closely. Of course, we don't win, but whatever. The right thing was that we looked good in front of our "judges".
But wait, there's more.
Then came the final portion of the interview. In our same groups, we were instructed to create a short skit of two minutes about a PSA they would give us. We had five minutes to plan. To be honest, I don't remember what I got. But there were a bunch, like "Is marijuana good or bad?" or, "Should California continue the death penalty?"
Our group use the same tactics as before and do the real acting during the planning. But soon, we were actually cooperating really well. Five minutes pass and were taken to the room with the other group of people so we could all see each other's scripts.
All of them were actually pretty darn funny. This was the only part of he interview that I really enjoyed. Everyone was acting like drunken monkeys, and the laughter was contagious. I swear I even saw some of the polos crack the final.
After the final act about why it isn't smart to drink and drive, we're free to leave. I was exhausted, hungry, and out of breath, but also surprisingly happy. It was a good feeling.
I go home. I go to summer school. A week passes.
I check my email. And guess what sweet surprise I found there?
A lovely email from Mrs. Brew, telling me I'd made it in and that the Orientation was on...
My heart dropped.
The Orientation was in late July, a few days after summer school. The downside? An hour after summer school ended, I had to catch a plane to India with the rest of my family. We were staying for three weeks...waay after the Orientation.
I immediately email Brew, telling her about this fault. She emails me the next day, telling me it's alright and I'll be on the waiting list for the next Orientation, sometime in late fall.
It left me both relaxed and tensed. I really wanted to start in August, but now I had no choice but to wait it out. And if it's one thing anyone's learned after meeting me, it's that I'm really impatient.
But I waited it out.
Finally, in late October, I receive a call, (which I do NOT attend the first time, but instead, I call them at school and piss off the hospital people again. So rather, I call them.) telling me the info about the Orientation that was going to take place in November.
I'm going to stop here, 'cause my fingers are starting to cramp up from all the typing. I can hear them whining "What did we do wronnnnnggggg...."
But I'll continue in another post. And trust me, there are gonna be a lot of hospital cases, 'cause I'm planning to stick with this volunteering program until I'm shipped off to college.
So stay tuned for the next hospital case reader!
Hope you've been having a good day...er, at least an average one.
Finals are coming soon to kill us....so much for the "happy" holidays.
Annnyways, I'm not here to talk about that.
Instead, I'ma tell you a story that happened to me this Thursday.
Oh, and also this is a pretty long story.
Like, really, really, really long.
So grab some snacks and get comfy.
...
So this Thursday I had to go to the hospital. No, I wasn't sick or anything. Our hospital has a volunteering program where kids that have graduated eighth grade can have a go at helping out sick people. The process to actually get in is pretty long.
First, there's the application, where you answer a ton of questions that seem exactly the same.
Why do you want to join our program?
What will you do in our program?
How will this program help you?
I turned in my application in July, and man, there were a TON of applications. Like, at least two hundred.
After like two weeks you get a phone call from the hospital, telling you you're application has been accepted, and then they give you info about your first interview, like the date and time. Actually, I didn't take the phone when they called me once, twice...three times. Eventually, I called them back once I figured out who was calling me, and they were pretty pissed at me. But hey, I was still accepted.
The first interview is exhilarating. I was in summer school at that time, and I could hear the flurry of kids in the high school, freaking out about the interview and asking practically anyone around them for advice on what to do.
On the day of the interview, I was all dressed up like I was going to a party. I never wear dresses, but I did for that occasion.
I get to the hospital and go to the front desk. The dude there gave me a sticker saying "Volunteer Services".
"Do you know how to get there?" He asks.
Me: "Actually..no."
The dude hands me a map and tells me, "Go to the elevators. It's pretty simple from there."
I have never gotten more lost anywhere else.
I get to the second floor and I'm thinking, "Yup, I'm a goner." Because all the hospital halls look EXACTLY the same. I'm walking here and there, taking lefts and rights and ups and downs. I mean, I passed a bunch of nurses on my voyage, but my pride stopped me from actually asking for directions.
I found myself in so many places...the waiting room, patient hallways, dark, spoopy halls, the cafeteria, and even back to the elevator.
After like twenty minutes I actually got where I was supposed to be.
To be honest, the interview itself wasn't too bad. I was pulled in by a nice Asian lady with too much eye makeup, but it wasn't too bad.
I'm decent when speaking, but this interview had me so stressed and tongue twisted. Let me give you an example:
The lady says, "Describe yourself in three words."
Me: "Uhhhh....kind, selfless, nice."
*my brain slaps me*
Afterwards, I spend another twenty minutes lost in the labyrinth of halls and eventually use a different elevator to get to the front desk.
Another two weeks pass.
I get another call, and me being me I forget to attend it. I call them again, and the person on the other end is at least slightly less pissed than last time.
I'd made it to the second interview.
Me, the blubbering idiot who couldn't describe herself even with her life at stake, had made it.
MIRACLES DO EXIST.
I was pumped.
They give me the date and time again and tell me "We'll see you there"
I feel sad for the people who didn't make it in. They got a rejection letter in their mail, saying they didn't make it. That must have SUCKED.
A few more weeks pass and it's the day of the second interview. They didn't tell us if we had to dress formally, so I did just in case. When I get to the front desk, the new guy there tells me, "Just follow the orange signs."
You won't believe this, but I almost screwed that part up too. Almost. This kind nurse saw me turning around in circles and pointed me to the glass door that led me outside.
I get there, and I'm sweating. There's like fifty other people, and over half of them were casually dressed. We're all called into one of the rooms, and there are like fifteen people waiting inside, all but one lady wearing a blue polo with khaki pants.
The lady introduces herself. I'll be honest, she reminded me a lot of Oscar the Grouch, but possibly nicer. Last I've heard, all the volunteers both respect and fear her.
So let's give her a nickname too...
What about...
Mrs. Brew?
Sorry, I want coffee. But yeah, Mrs. Brew.
First, she thanks all the people who wore formal dressing. I was like, THANK THE GODS we were SUPPOSED to dress like this.
Then she split the group of people into two. One group was sent away with a half of the people in polos to another classroom, Mrs. Brew trailing behind. The other half, including me, stayed behind.
We were separated into rows of five. The remaining polos sat themselves down in desks out in front of us. Then guess what they start doing?
They call each one of us up, name by name, to the FRONT OF EVERYONE. Then they ask each of us one question. It could be anything, from "How would your peers describe you," to "What would you do if a patient wasn't satisfied with their burger?"
And as you answer, they stare into your soul with their deep, dark, penetrating eyes, with not even a ghost of a smile on their face.
This was an introvert's worst nightmare.
The worst part? You can tell EXACTLY the personality of each person by the way they answer. Some people stepped up confident and loud. Others were as quiet as a mouse, and you could see them fidgeting one way or the other.
Then I was called.
"Ganga Prasanth?" Except, they pronounce it like, GeeAINga. No people. It's GaAAAnga. Like, Short a. Also, the G's like G as in Garfield. So many people have said my name wrong. I mean, I can't blame them, and I'm sure their trying their best, but I can't help but mentally hug the person who says it right and isn't Indian.
All Indians out there (and others with complex names) can relate.
I'm like, "Actually, it's 'GaAAAnga'.", and they're just like "yeah yeah, ok". I go up there and they get all business-like again.
Oh, and I forgot to mention this, but they're all HIGH SCHOOLERS. Sort of hard to take them seriously when they might as well be in your biology class.
They ask me, "You have a big math test today, but you didn't study. What do you do?"
Me: "Actually, I wouldn't forget, 'cause my parents would probably kill me if that happened, and I have a planner and all..."
I'm met by with seven pairs of eyeballs of the polos glaring at me.
I hurriedly continue. "But if I DID somehow forget...I guess I would study somehow anyways. And, uh, ask friends who already how the test was. And if I failed, then I'd ask my teacher for...uh..extra help and stuff...yup."
I said all of this as loud as I could, and by the fact it took me only a few seconds to get all that out, I said it pretty darn fast too.
They excuse me and continue down the list of victims. I noticed that everyone else got called up twice, except for me, and I'm just thinking, "Yup, I've screwed this up pretty bad." We finish up, and it's time for the second portion of the interview.
The polos split our group of twenty fiveish people into groups of five. I'm put in with a group of four girls and a guy, none I've ever seen before.
Then they throw a few straws and a tape dispenser our way, and tell us, "Each group has five minutes to make the tallest staw tower possible. However, you are each allowed to use only one hand. Whoever has the tallest tower wins. Your time begins...NOW."
And that's exactly what we do. I try to support everyone and hiss, "Look, guys, if we want to all make it into Methodist, screw winning this thing. Just act really positive and we should all work AS A TEAM." We try our best, with a polo shirt watching us closely. Of course, we don't win, but whatever. The right thing was that we looked good in front of our "judges".
But wait, there's more.
Then came the final portion of the interview. In our same groups, we were instructed to create a short skit of two minutes about a PSA they would give us. We had five minutes to plan. To be honest, I don't remember what I got. But there were a bunch, like "Is marijuana good or bad?" or, "Should California continue the death penalty?"
Our group use the same tactics as before and do the real acting during the planning. But soon, we were actually cooperating really well. Five minutes pass and were taken to the room with the other group of people so we could all see each other's scripts.
All of them were actually pretty darn funny. This was the only part of he interview that I really enjoyed. Everyone was acting like drunken monkeys, and the laughter was contagious. I swear I even saw some of the polos crack the final.
After the final act about why it isn't smart to drink and drive, we're free to leave. I was exhausted, hungry, and out of breath, but also surprisingly happy. It was a good feeling.
I go home. I go to summer school. A week passes.
I check my email. And guess what sweet surprise I found there?
A lovely email from Mrs. Brew, telling me I'd made it in and that the Orientation was on...
My heart dropped.
The Orientation was in late July, a few days after summer school. The downside? An hour after summer school ended, I had to catch a plane to India with the rest of my family. We were staying for three weeks...waay after the Orientation.
I immediately email Brew, telling her about this fault. She emails me the next day, telling me it's alright and I'll be on the waiting list for the next Orientation, sometime in late fall.
It left me both relaxed and tensed. I really wanted to start in August, but now I had no choice but to wait it out. And if it's one thing anyone's learned after meeting me, it's that I'm really impatient.
But I waited it out.
Finally, in late October, I receive a call, (which I do NOT attend the first time, but instead, I call them at school and piss off the hospital people again. So rather, I call them.) telling me the info about the Orientation that was going to take place in November.
...
I'm going to stop here, 'cause my fingers are starting to cramp up from all the typing. I can hear them whining "What did we do wronnnnnggggg...."
But I'll continue in another post. And trust me, there are gonna be a lot of hospital cases, 'cause I'm planning to stick with this volunteering program until I'm shipped off to college.
So stay tuned for the next hospital case reader!
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