I had to read it twice to make sure I wasn’t seeing my own things, so you’ll understand me when I tell you I was skeptical about it at first. Would I be required to strut down a runway? Was I going to end up on YouTube in one of those videos titled “Models graceful falls” because, in all my years of living, I have never learned the art of “graceful falling”. One minute I’m walking minding my business and the next I’m tripping over my own legs and watch myself come close to hugging the ground and if I’m lucky, get it together quickly enough and try to play it cool…I fail miserably at that too but that’s not the point of this story.

Anyway, there it was and because my curiosity had been piqued, I confirmed my attendance. After all, what did I have to lose?

I set out on a chilly Monday morning, excited yet anxious about what the day had in store for me. The public transport system in The Netherlands is efficient especially compared to what we have back home but your girl was still late to arrive. Between figuring out where to get my train, getting on the right platform and trying not to lose my fingers because of the cold, I’m lucky I even made it.

Thankfully, I hadn’t missed much…all the candidates had arrived and after some introductory remarks, they had their photos taken, which were then shuffled and based on the one you picked, you were to take the time to get to the other person and learn three fun and/or interesting facts about them. Melissa, my fellow latecomer and I had to endure our shame in silence until it was our turn.

Once we got through our introductions, the interview team leader, took us through what to expect that day. The first activity was a blind food taste test. We were split into four groups and based on whatever you were given to taste, you were supposed to use our storytelling abilities to describe it for our teammates to identify

Sounds like fun, right? Well yes because it’s free snacks you’re tasting but you’re also low key afraid you’ll get something weird to taste oh and not to mention you must tell a story based on what you taste. It’s safe to say, the storytelling bit was thrown out the window and we were basically giving clues based on what each snack tasted, smelled and felt like.

It was quite fun… I got to taste pumpkin seeds and beer, which I almost described “tastes like beer”. Smart, I know. Anyway, I realized how heightened my other senses became when I couldn’t see what I was given to taste and the memories it recalled. It felt odd at first, but the fact that we were all blindfolded and had to rely on each other to guess correctly was comforting.

For the second activity, we were asked to take a walk around the hotel lobby and pick or take a photo of something that best articulated our personalities. It was fascinating to see what everyone picked. This tatted-up babe picked an Elvis Presley coffee table book and talked about the huge role and impact the legend had on her life growing up. She was obsessed with him to the extent that she saved up money to visit his hometown in Memphis and see his grave and for her that a full circle moment and spoke to her resilience and commitment to accomplish something. I thought that was cool.

Once everyone had gone their turn, we broke for lunch and the Kenyan in me expected they usual buffet spreads hotels serve back home. I quickly realized it was going to be more finger food and I literally walked up and down the table waiting to see something like meatballs, samosas.

Nope, there was nothing heavy or super meaty as I had hoped for but it was delicious all the same. It featured a spread of pastries, cold cuts, cheese, fresh salad, orange juice with the pulp and I had the second most delicious latte since I came here. The best latte I’ve was a caramel flavoured one from Starbucks and my life hasn’t been the same since.

I got to chatting with Raquel, a bubbly, bespectacled, curly-haired chic from Spain. She quit her job a couple of years ago because she didn’t want to be stuck in a dead-end job. She had just gotten back home from a Kizomba festival she attended (I can’t remember where) and had travelled overnight by bus to make it to the interview.

Anyway, after lunch, we got back for the third activity, which was to put together a mood board and quote that articulated what the company stood for. It was fascinating to see how the different groups interpreted the task and our creativity at work. I don’t know whether it’s the pressure of knowing we were all in an interview or the sheer fact that it was a fun activity, but the camaraderie seemed genuine, in my opinion, and everyone genuinely enjoyed working together.

The last activity before we wrapped things up is where it all got intense. We were all asked to think back on someone we’d consider a hero in our lives. Right of the bat, I knew I was going to cry; it was just a matter of how long I could hold out. From Alex, a Brit who is an introvert and in typical fashion not accustomed to open displays of emotion talked about how his dad and uncle to a lovely lady who spoke so fondly about her grandmother and the lessons she imparted in her and a gentleman who talked about his stepfather and how he stepped up when his mum fell ill,  you couldn’t help but be moved by everyone’s story.

One lady started crying even before it was her turn to speak and even when she got to share her story, she didn’t get through it, another was sobbing so hard she downright refused to share anything. Now I don’t know about you, but my tear glands are always eager to join the party whenever someone is crying so I had to avoid looking in their direction, you know to hold out for as long as I could.

There was one lady who shared a beautiful story about how her boyfriend who lives with depression inspires her every single day. There was one tall babe who in typical Snoop Dogg fashion said she was her own hero. I liked that because we often forget to appreciate ourselves and how strong we are, for all the times we’ve kept going even when we wanted to throw in the towel. So, here’s to being our own heroes too this year!

Most people, I included talked about our mums. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, my mum is the one person who can turn me into putty, with a look, a word or simply the sound of her voice. When I was getting married, I literally had to warn her not to speak to me in that soft, lulling voice of hers that was sure to turn me into mush. I even bragged to everyone that she was the only one who would make me cry on my big day. Plot twist; your girl bawled my eyes out during the father-daughter dance but to be fair, I knew I would the minute my then fiancé sent me the song when we were selecting the playlist for that day. Thanks, babe!

Anyway, I learned how different and similar we are in so many ways and the beautiful, moving stories we have within. I left there with some wonderful memories and lessons. It wasn’t your standard interview formats where you sit across a panel of about two to three people and answer questions, which can be quite scary.

There’s always that panellist who will be typing away as you answer, peering at you over their laptop. It is quite nerve-wracking, isn’t it?

As always, I hope you enjoy this week’s post and I’ll see you soon.