Out of my depth
As a schoolkid, I signed up for a public speaking contest purely as a ruse to meet girls. It haunts me still: in front of 300 people, I started to speak, dried up, stood there for what felt like half an hour staring at the floor and then slowly walked back to my seat. Oh, and the girl I liked laughed.
Have you ever been utterly, completely, devastatingly out of your depth?
( , Thu 14 Oct 2004, 15:07)
As a schoolkid, I signed up for a public speaking contest purely as a ruse to meet girls. It haunts me still: in front of 300 people, I started to speak, dried up, stood there for what felt like half an hour staring at the floor and then slowly walked back to my seat. Oh, and the girl I liked laughed.
Have you ever been utterly, completely, devastatingly out of your depth?
( , Thu 14 Oct 2004, 15:07)
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similar to krang's Our Price experience...
...I went for an interview at Our Price in Doncaster when I was but 17 years old. Interview seemed to be going well, when the bloke interviewing me asked me if I knew any jokes. Of course, I said, and proceeded to tell a joke (I don't remember the details of it) that was in some way kind of offensive to Welsh people.
Guess what?
He was Welsh.
Needless to say, I didn't get the job. Friend of mine went for the same job, was offered it and then turned it down. Bastard.
Another time was more recent at a music festival in Doncaster where, at the last minute, I was the compere. Now, all this involved was introducing the bands and then fucking off of the stage.
Could I manage this?
The answer: Yes. But not until I'd drank 13 pints of ale. At 2 in the afternoon. Never again.
( , Wed 20 Oct 2004, 1:58, Reply)
...I went for an interview at Our Price in Doncaster when I was but 17 years old. Interview seemed to be going well, when the bloke interviewing me asked me if I knew any jokes. Of course, I said, and proceeded to tell a joke (I don't remember the details of it) that was in some way kind of offensive to Welsh people.
Guess what?
He was Welsh.
Needless to say, I didn't get the job. Friend of mine went for the same job, was offered it and then turned it down. Bastard.
Another time was more recent at a music festival in Doncaster where, at the last minute, I was the compere. Now, all this involved was introducing the bands and then fucking off of the stage.
Could I manage this?
The answer: Yes. But not until I'd drank 13 pints of ale. At 2 in the afternoon. Never again.
( , Wed 20 Oct 2004, 1:58, Reply)
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