A summer holiday in the Greek Islands had always been a dream of mine. It was 1999, I had been temping in London for a couple of weeks but was desperate to get a “serious” job where I could afford to pay my rent and see as much of Europe as I could.
After sending off countless job applications, I finally secured an interview for a position with a prestigious finance company. I knew I had enough experience for the role but needed to make sure they didn’t hold my working holiday visa against me. I was determined to get the job.
In the days before the interview, I made my housemates quiz me on potential interview questions, as well as help me to brainstorm scenarios that would make the interviewers see that I was serious about staying in England. One of my housemates jokingly suggested that I pretend to be engaged to an English guy. We laughed at the idea; I had only been on a couple of dates since I’d arrived and was far from being married!
The morning of the interview, I noticed a cheap zirconia ring in the window display of a department store. I tried it on and it fit my ring finger perfectly, I took it as a sign and bought it. On the way to the interview, I chickened out and shoved the ring into my handbag.
Sitting in the waiting room as I waited for the interviewers, I looked around at the swanky reception area and realised that this was the kind of company I had strived to work for my entire career. At the last minute I grabbed the ring from the bottom of my handbag and quickly slipped it on my wedding ring finger.
The interview went really well, and when my future boss asked the dreaded question, “How long are you planning to stay in England?” I had my answer ready and looked my interviewers in the eye, replying that I was engaged to an English man and planned to get a spouse visa within a few months and stay indefinitely.
They called to offer me the job the next day and in my excitement to accept, I temporarily forgot about my lie. On my first day of work, I clicked straight away with the team. When the subject of relationships came up, one girl asked me if I had a boyfriend at the exact moment my boss walked past my desk. I hesitated, and then said I was engaged. They were thrilled and asked a lot of questions so I was forced to make up a story — I named my fiancé Tom after the last guy I had dated.
The job was great, the money was amazing and the people at work were a lot of fun. But after a couple of months, I became tired of constant questions about my “wedding” plans and fending off invitations for “Tom” to join us at different work events.
One day it got too much for me. On a sunny June morning, I bribed one of my housemates, Cath into calling my boss to tell her that Tom had been involved in a car accident. And that he had died.
Cath reported that my boss had been really understanding and told her that I was to take as much time off as I needed. Later that day, an enormous bunch of lilies was delivered to my flat, with heartfelt commiserations from everyone at work. I felt awful but could feel the relief of not having the burden of Tom following me around any more.
Knowing I couldn’t go straight back to work and wanting to make the most of my leave, Cath and I booked a holiday for a week on Mykonos, one of the idyllic Greek Islands. I diluted my guilt with sun, sand and lots of spirits.
When I eventually returned to work, I regretted everything. Everyone was so nice to me, I felt like I had betrayed them all, not to mention the bad karma I must have attracted to myself for such a horrible deception.
The stress eventually became too much and I resigned from work and decided to return home to Australia. What made it worse was that everybody at work was so nice about it and assumed I was leaving to deal with my grief. I have never forgiven myself for this lie and learned a valuable lesson.
Picture posed by models.
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