It was inevitable of course. You applied for the job in the first place. Your being there, exposed in front of a panel of pitiless, unflinching eyes is entirely your doing. You saw the ad and instantly visualised success. The new title, greater responsibilities, a restored sense of honour and respect among your professional peers.
You did not visualise a burgeoning will to self-implode.
It is a rare moment when I find myself sympathising with the political aristocracy and yet, at that moment, I couldn't have been more compassionate.
Political debates are important. They inform the masses, reinforce democracy and provide the nation's hopeful leaders a chance to prove their competency. For two unlucky sods they are also the job interview from hell.
Since Monday night, amateur and professional critics have been raining judgment down on the performance of the country's two most promising prospective leaders. Blow the policies - much like the debate itself, things have got personal.
Phil Goff was "a manicured puppet", John Key sported a "vacuous, smarmy smile" and, as anticipated, the debate designed to create consensus, created more debate.
While TVNZ's text poll saw Key the clear winner, Goff topped Key by 7.4 per cent in a similar poll by RadioLive. In another survey, the Labour leader came out on top by almost 16 per cent.
Post-debate nerves can't have been settled any further by such expert political commentary as that posted on sites like stuff and Facebook.
cass #149: Boo John Key. No wonder people are leaving New Zealand our prime minister sucks.
Hagbard #8: Well said and true. We haven't had a leader with balls since Helen Clarke.
Oh, literacy. Wherefore art thou?
To be fair, grammar-free constituents aside, it's not an easy place to be. New Zealand may be land of the long white cloud, the giant carrot, and the world's prettiest battle scene backdrop, we are also the land of the lofty red flower. While Tall Poppy Syndrome remains one of the country's most hideous cliches, it is so for a reason.
Short of a three-way handshake and a cheeky eyebrow raise over the Rugby World Cup success, for the majority of New Zealanders, basking in success is about as popular as a drag show in Tuatapere.
To your average Kiwi, anything less than self-effacing propriety is a shameless brag-a-thon. Key and Goff could take a vow of silence for the gays, a hunger strike for the homeless and strap themselves behind a bus for the environment. One in three New Zealanders would still think they were being a bit of a show-off. Debates, by their very nature, are doomed.
The whole situation makes me feel considerably better about my latest job interview. Despite more than half a decade in the part-time working world, three years worth of degree, and as much pre-interview preparation as I could handle without inducing seizure, I was a royal shambles. Words were fumbled, hand-shaking palms clammed and I can still hear my craftily prepared "intelligent interview chuckle" rattling in my ears. It sounds like someone shaking a goat in a can. My head still hurts from the door.
Things could be worse though. My interview was a shambles.
But it wasn't a shambles with a potential audience of four million. There'll always be the critics. Key's greasy, Goff's a bore. But they're making a bloody good effort. Jumping on the critical nagwagon? Cast a thought back to your worst interviewing encounter. Then add spotlights and a crowd. Be nice New Zealand, they say positive reinforcement works wonders.
