"I thought we were meeting at 4?"

So. My punctuality mantra "to be early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late, and to be late is simply unacceptable" has now come to have a completely new meaning.

I showed up at Whitespace in my I've-slept-three-hours-I-have-no-idea-how-to-construct-a-sentence-in-any-language state of mind roughly around 1.50pm. The receptionist went to get the guy I was meeting, Phillip, Head of Digital.
When he walked down the stair about 10 minutes later we shook hands and he asked me if we weren't supposed to meet at 4pm? And I said something like: really? I'm pretty sure it was two o'clock?

Meanwhile in Jo's head: "Shit. Shit. SHIT. Really??! Did I get it wrong?! First impression screw up. I want to leave. How do I leave? Where is the nearest window???! Should I set the place on fire? No. Only a crazy person would do that. But really? 4??? **** **** **** **** **** **** ****"

We went into an average size meeting room with stains in the ceiling because it'd been a flooding upstairs (they will paint it over when they get the money from the insurance company. I don't know why I'm writing this.) We sat down. I was scared. I'm never scared during interviews. I think it was partially because of me showing up TWO HOURS EARLY - I simply can't stress that fact enough - and partially because he was wearing a pink shirt (someone once told me to never trust a guy in a pink shirt) that got my nerves flying around.

Anyhow. He proper put me on the spot. I was sitting there, stuttering, mumbling and my English level was about the same as when I was 11 years old. I could hear myself. And I sounded like a right idiot. And I thought to myself: how do I explain to him that I'm better than this? That I don't suck. And that my English is actually quite decent.

Then. After talking for a while and me wanting to die for equally long time (pardon my morbid sense of humour, I'm Finnish. Apparently we find death hilarious - I have no intention of killing myself.) something that can only be described as magic happened, Phillip said something along these lines: "so when do you want to do this?" The feeling that rushed over me was probably very similar to the one Moses had when he divided the Red Sea. That's when I no longer wanted to kill myself.

Then he gave me a quick tour of the office (which is absolutely fantastic).

Then I left. Checked my email on my phone.

The interview was in fact at 4pm.
The joke's on me.

P.S I now deem guys in pink shirts to be trustworthy. Regardless of previous information I've been given.