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facts & arguments

Facts & Arguments is a daily personal piece submitted by readers. Have a story to tell? See our guidelines at tgam.ca/essayguide.

"Why do you want to do your internship with us?" the communications director asked me while scanning my résumé.

A down-to-earth guy wearing a band T-shirt under his plaid shirt – the communications adviser – sat to her left at the large boardroom table. He was younger than me by 12 or 15 years.

Both were welcoming but I still felt nervous. Self-conscious. After all, I was a grown woman being interviewed for a student position, not one of the fresh-faced 20-year-olds the director was probably used to taking under her wing.

On top of that, I was a soccer mom whose muffin top had morphed into something more akin to a Bundt cake in recent years. Adjusting my too-snug business jacket, I felt every one of my 40 years.

When I was living in Northern Ontario, I had finished my bachelor of arts degree by correspondence while working as a school library technician. It was a great gig: helping to foster a love of reading in kids, getting good pay and having summers off. But that came to a bittersweet end when my husband and I moved to Ottawa with our kids six years ago.

Job hunting was tough in the country's capital. Without the proper credentials and given that there had been recent cutbacks in the library sector, I just didn't know how to land a gainful library job – or any job that interested me, for that matter. I settled for a boring, low-paying clerical job.

When I left that position three summers ago, my husband encouraged me to go back to school. I longed to work in communications, so I surfed the Internet for potential avenues. I kept coming across a particular professional-writing program. A short phone call with the program co-ordinator was all it took to convince me that this hands-on college diploma would complement my degree. I enrolled straight away.

Three semesters whizzed by in a writing flurry of mock proposals, executive summaries and blog posts that would prepare me for this internship and (fingers crossed!) a future job as a public servant. Now, there I was, on the verge of testing the waters.

I held back from scratching the nape of my neck – it was itchy under the weight of my curly hair, which should have been twisted into a knot. I hoped that the body spray deodorant I'd bought for the occasion would do the trick. Its chemical scent still lingered and tickled my nose.

Jori Bolton for The Globe and Mail

So, the director asked, why did I want to do an internship in that government department?

The truth was, I needed to know if I could succeed in the public sector. I had held back from applying to most government jobs that caught my eye. After spending a decade assigning Dewey Decimal numbers to children’s books, what did I know about the internal operations of the government? Sure, I’d also worked in public relations in my hometown’s community centre and sat on various committees. I’d gained some transferable skills, right? Then again, just thinking about having to navigate the double-decker elevators I’d used on my way to this interview was enough to make my palms sweat. I felt like a fish out of water, gasping for air (the tight business jacket didn’t help).

I should have been honest when answering the question. “I need to know if I can do the job” would have been truthful. Instead, I gave the stiff, generic answer I’d prepared. I would agonize over that blunder later, even though in the end she invited me to intern with her team.

As it turned out, I enjoyed my time working on her communications team. She turned out to be the best possible mentor, having me work on a variety of tasks and take part in her team’s creative meetings. It was a great way to learn the ropes and network with other professionals in the field. Most importantly, I got over my insecurity about working for a large governmental organization.

I must have done something right: Her team got in touch with me a few months after graduation to offer me a contract.

A year after starting the internship, and now working on the team part-time, I’m once again sitting beside my director at the large boardroom table.

This time, I’m the one helping her conduct an interview with a young professional-writing student hoping to intern in our office.

First-rate writing samples fill the plastic sleeves of the student’s sleek black portfolio, which looks just like the one I bought on campus for my interview. Reading over her work, I know she’s a great candidate who will be able to get the job done. But, even after we tell her she made the cut, her hands still shake.

That’s when I realize that, whether you’re 20 or 40, laying it all out on the interview floor makes you feel vulnerable. Laid bare.

After the interview, I walk her to the huge, all-glass lobby and make sure she understands how to use the double-decker elevators. While it’s not easy being the new fish in the big tank, knowing there’s always more than one way to get to work makes the ride easier.

Carole Besharah lives in Gatineau, Que.