“Dear Sunny, congratulations on your success at the Union Bank Sales aptitude test. We are pleased to invite you for an interview at 9 am on Monday. Kindly confirm your availability by replying to this mail. Please see details below…”
I have received about a dozen of these emails from job opportunities making me a candidate for an all-time record holder in interview attendance. This would not be the first, second, third, or eleventh time I had received such mail and responded with the victory dance. Without hesitation, I carefully began arranging my resume, steam-ironed my clothes, and polished my shoes the old-fashioned way using rag and water to make them look shinier.
On the interview day, I arrived forty-five minutes earlier as was my custom and the kind security gentleman led me to the exact room where some candidates were already waiting. The moment I walked into the room was the same moment I felt like walking out. The looks and appearances of these candidates didn’t resemble those in search of a job. While I had my first-grade okrika outfit on, these guys had their boutique suits, tuxedos, and blazers on. I was wondering if we were all here for the same interview. I felt the male candidates were bridegrooms awaiting the arrival of their brides, and the females were already corporate CEOs running a Fortune 500 company. I was the odd person in the group. The receptionist received me with a warm smile and motioned me to sit down. She then gave me the tag Candidate number 12, and I managed to find a seat to settle down.
There I was seated among candidates, yet alone, in a chilling conference room as I awaited my turn to be called up for the interview. I had just gone through my email once more and read one of those polite rejection emails that now flooded my inbox. Over time, I developed the muscles for rejection emails after receiving over fifty of them. In a twinkle of an eye, my mind began another interview with me I had neither planned nor prepared for. She opened the resume of how my life had played out as this would be the umpteenth time I was invited for an interview.
Back in high school if statistics were to be made about those likely to succeed in life, I fell among the 98 percentile, meaning I was categorized among those with the highest possibility to succeed in life (whatever success might mean to them). On the contrary, sitting in that chilling conference room, I was anything but successful. Four years after graduation, I had nothing concrete to show for it. I had no money, no job, no car, no house, I didn't even have a girlfriend. I mean, look at me, who would want to date a broke guy? I wouldn't even date me. As I sat there seeking answers for my life, a voice in my head screamed at me: YOU ARE THE DEFINITION OF A FAILURE. As tears began to roll down my eyes I recalled the countless confrontations I’d had with my parents who couldn't understand why (in the Nigerian parlance) I never blow. Every call we had was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.
Have you had such an interview lately? Do you know someone who has had such an interview? Your interview could be different from mine, but the question and verdict of that voice that screams: YOU ARE THE DEFINITION OF A FAILURE remains the same. You could be confronted with challenges and mistakes in your relationship, family, marriage, career, and health. I know how hard it is to live life differently from your current reality. I know how impossible it can be to wear a smile on your face when your life is unpredictable like the financial markets. I know how frightening it can be to be confronted with the interview. Now the trillion-dollar saving question is: How should you respond? How have I responded? Do you put up a fight or take flight? Do you accept responsibility for what is happening or make excuses and shift blame to the village people?
In his famous lyrics “Let me die in my footsteps” Bob Dylan wrote:
Well, I will not go down under the ground cause somebody tells me that death’s coming round
And I will not carry myself down to die
When I go to my grave, my head will be high
Let me die in my footsteps before I go down under the ground.
It is easier to say, but believe me when I say you must fight. I fought, and I’m still fighting. There will be scars, I can assure you, and tears along the way. Fight that negative voice that screams at you: YOU ARE THE DEFINITION OF A FAILURE and respond that you are the REDEFINITION OF SUCCESS. You must keep hope alive my friends. I’ve kept hope alive, and that’s why I’m standing before you behind this lectern. I know that it is not easy but if I can be standing before you today, all gleeful and smiley, amidst the raging storm, so can you.
CANDIDATE NUMBER 12. I jolted back to reality, adjusted my suit, raised my head high, and walked majestically towards the interview door. For curiosity, yes, I did get the job. For bewilderment, I turned it down.