Show Hide image UK 27 March 2015 “Get in a circle and say what you had for breakfast!”: what happened to me at an interview for a zero hours contract Almost 700,000 people have a zero-hours contract for their main job, according to the Office for National Statistics. Ryan Ormonde shares his experience of an interview for a front-of-house role at a London theatre. Sign up for our weekly email * Print HTML There are twenty of us in a studio space. Steve is our sparkly host for the next two hours. “Let's all get in a circle,” he says. “Classic drama style! Everyone say what you had for breakfast!” Answers range from “a nutty cereal” to “chicken wings and two paracetamol”. One of our number is not playing ball. “Nothing,” she says. “Nothing? How about for lunch?” “Nothing.” All eyes back on Steve: “Keep an eye on this one, she might faint!” “Next up: I want you to imagine you only have half a minute left to live. Choose a memory from your past that you’d like to revisit for your last 30 seconds on Earth...” I am at an interview for a front-of-house role in a London theatre, which includes some bar work and tearing tickets. We are competing for a zero-hour contract, and shifts are allocated to the people who reply the fastest to an email containing the new rota each week. There will be no guarantee of work for successful applicants, and whole months with no shifts on offer at all. In the spirit of theatre I am suspending my disbelief and trying to oblige Steve with an image of my last ebb of life. Some people forget they are in an interview and reminisce on illegal raves and drug-fuelled euphoria. Catching up, the hopeful who skipped breakfast and lunch offers: “Cake…?” Steve is now leading us in a game in which we throw and catch a ball while repeating things that we said before. This is followed by one of those team-building exercises in which we have to help one another get from one side of the room to the other without stepping on the floor. Now we’re in smaller groups, responding to imaginary front of house scenarios, in order to win points for our team. One scenario: what would we do if a customer started shouting “this poster is gay”? “Maybe they’ve got Tourette’s?” I suggest. Every now and then someone is taken out of the room for a “brief chat”. “Tell me about yourself,” says Steve. By now we have passed the two-hour mark, but Steve’s improvisation skills are serving him well. I like Steve; he makes the job sound fun – exciting even. Afterwards I tell a friend with a full time job what I've just been doing and she looks alarmed: “It's like one of those crazy house viewings you hear about," she laughs, “where they have everyone round at the same time and they leave them to fight it out!” The day after I get an email from the theatre. I didn't get the job. It's not my CV, it's me. Maybe I should change what I have for breakfast. Maybe I should work on my ball throwing. Maybe I should apply to be a contestant on Saturday Night Takeaway. I might win something. Ryan Ormonde is a writer based in London. He attended the interview one evening after he had filled out an application form in which he included years of experience working front of house in a cinema and theatre. For the last year he has been self employed, picking up work where he can › How to fly a plane (safely): Erica Wagner rediscovers flight's wonder with a BA pilot Subscribe from just £1 per issue More Related articles Let's talk about Daniel Hannan, Donald Trump and Adolf Hitler To the Commonwealth, "Global Britain" sounds like nostalgia for something else Is defeat in Stoke the beginning of the end for Paul Nuttall?