It was my birthday, 21 January. I'd taken the day off work, not because I'm particularly keen on celebrating my birthday, and to be perfectly honest, I can't even remember why I'd booked the entire day off in the first place.
Anyway, I had a job interview that morning.
I think it was sometime in early January that Ludvig had sent me a job advert. I decided to apply, thinking I had nothing to lose. I wasn't particularly optimistic, though, having applied for several jobs previously without ever hearing anything back.
So, on 21 January, they wanted to meet me on Teams for a first interview. I remember being absolutely knackered and having very little enthusiasm for getting out of bed, putting on make-up and making myself look presentable for what I assumed would be a 45-minute waste of my time. But I did it anyway.
Fast forward to Friday, 22 January. An early morning SAS flight to London.
We usually land around 9 or 10 in the morning, which means we're comfortably settled in a pub with our first pint by about 11. And this trip was no exception.
There we were, having beer for breakfast in a lovely pub, doing a bit of work on our laptops. I opened my emails and, to my surprise, found an invitation to a second interview the following Tuesday.
The timing actually worked out rather well, considering we were flying home on Monday evening. The only slight issue was that I also had to complete a few assessments, including logical reasoning, an IQ-style test and a personality questionnaire, as well as prepare a presentation answering various questions about Retail Media.
Not exactly how I'd planned to spend my weekend in London.
I emailed to ask whether we could rearrange the interview, explaining that I was away until Monday. Unfortunately, Tuesday was the only day they could fit me in, so I had little choice but to agree.
That weekend, we drank plenty of beer, stayed at a hotel in Finsbury Park and watched Arsenal lose at home to Manchester United. A fairly typical London weekend, really.
Come Monday morning, we packed our DB backpacks and headed out for a walk and some coffee. The plan was to get to the airport nice and early, settle into the SAS lounge and give me a chance to prepare properly for the interview.
Before heading off, though, we decided to stop at Ole & Steen for a coffee and a few pastries, mainly to give our legs a bit of a rest. I reckon we sat there for about 40 minutes.
And then, just as we were getting ready to leave, we realised something was missing.
Ludvig's DB backpack.
Gone.
We looked around, checked under the table and tried to work out where on earth it could have gone. Eventually, it dawned on us that someone had actually stolen it, right under our noses. The CCTV footage later confirmed it.
Even now, looking back, it genuinely bothers me. The thought of us sitting there, completely oblivious, scrolling through our phones while some absolute snake casually picked up his backpack and walked off with it.
Just like that.
And the worst part? Our passports were inside.
Of everything we lost, those were by far the most valuable. Not necessarily in terms of money, but because we were supposed to be boarding a flight back to Norway in just a few hours.
So there we were. In London. No passports. A flight to catch. And a rather important job interview waiting for me the following day.