Laura writes . . .

To this day, I can remember the awful embarrassment I suffered during an interview for a job. It was for a researcher's position in television - a job I really wanted. The person in charge of hiring (the show's producer) had set up the interview for me, and promised that it would be a formality. As a result, I didn't prepare at all for the interview, believing that my close relationship with the producer and my natural charm would be enough. My heart sank, however, when I was told on the day that my producer friend was ill and that I was to be interviewed by a board of her colleagues instead. For half and hour, I spluttered and stuttered as I tried to answer such questions as - “Which five people do you most admire as television presenters?” and “Name me 10 ideas for new shows.” Not only did I not get the job but I also lost the respect of my producer friend, who was told by her colleagues that her suggestion for the job (me) was an incompetent idiot. Big lesson - always prepare for important conversations. Make notes. Try out the ideas first on other people. Don't take chances.

Laura Moseley, Ealing, West London

Chris writes . . .

The conversation I remember the most took place about 10 years after I'd built up a small but growing business providing specialist computer services to health clubs. I had several clients, but one was particularly important to me because it provided about 50% of my turnover. The boss of this company - Roger - invited me to lunch one day and told me about his company's plans for expansion. I was counting the new business in my head. But then at the end of the meal, he said to me. “Chris, I'm not going to offer you the contract and I want to tell you why.” The next five minutes were about as painful as it gets. Sloppy service, poor paperwork, unanswered emails . . . He told me exactly where my company was going wrong. I almost cried with resentment the taxi going back to my office. But the next day, after I'd fully considered what he'd told me, I realised he'd done me a huge favour. If we'd carried on without this feedback, I'm convinced my company would have gone out of business. As it was, I re-organised, did some much needed hiring and firing, and got the business back into shape. A year later, I picked up my biggest contract ever from Roger's company.

Chris Botley, Bristol.

Roger writes . . .

If you've ever suffered from depression, then you'll know exactly how I felt during my first year in the ‘real world' after leaving university. I felt my job was going nowhere, I'd moved to a strange town so didn't have any mates on hand, and to cap it all, I was sharing a flat was an extremely boring colleague from the office, with whom I had absolutely zero in common. I was, to put it mildly, very low. It was more out of desperation than genuine interest that I decided to respond to a poster, which said that the local amateur dramatics society was looking for new members.

I walked into the theatre and nearly came out straight away, but one of the members came over and chatted with me before I could leave. There was no pressure on her behalf, just a willingness to listen to my sorry tale, and the gentle suggestion that I hung around that evening, and maybe read for one of the parts in the next production. A couple of other members joined in the conversation and I guess overall we talked for about an hour. At the end I felt as if I'd already been accepted into the group. I read for the part, got it and went on the have years of fun and friendship as an amateur actor. And all because someone decided to put aside the time to have an unhurried conversation with a worried stranger.

Roger Salmon, Egham, Surrey