Hot flushes, a full bladder and a maths test
I expected to be more nervous.
Adrenaline flowing and sweat beading on my forehead.
But as I walked into the interview room, shook hands and exchanged pleasantries, I was strangely calm.
After all, I’d been in a room like this many, many times before, although usually on the other side of the desk.
I thought I was prepared and confident.
All was going well.
Then they handed me an exam paper.
And sitting innocently on page three was a maths problem I hadn’t anticipated.
I should have foreseen it given I was applying for a casual role as an exam invigilator at my boys’ old school.
It turns out I was far from prepared.
The question asked: if an exam lasts 1hr 15min and a candidate needs 25% extra time, how much time in total would you need to allow them?
Sheer and utter panic.
Cue hot flushes, dry mouth, sweaty palms and numbers that wouldn’t stay still on the paper.
It didn’t help that I’d just downed a huge cup of coffee and my bladder was bursting.
Sixty minutes in an hour.
Plus fifteen.
Divided by four.
I ended up guessing and finishing early so I could use the toilet.
Who knows what they thought about my paper, which was a hot mess of scribblings and crossings out.
I’d given a good account of myself in the interview but was terrified my maths would expose me.
I still don’t know if I got the question right.
It doesn’t matter now.
Remarkably, they offered me the job!
It seems they’re desperate for invigilators…
When Edward Thornton-Walsh’s first wife, Joanne, turns up on his doorstep in my new psychological thriller, His Dead Wife, he also has a fear of being exposed – although with far bigger consequences.
Eight years earlier, he thought he’d killed Joanne and buried her body in a shallow grave.
He doesn’t have the luxury of panic. He needs to keep his head and act as normally as possible.
Comments