I would like to present the first annual Tales of an MBA Nothing award for the Most Obnoxious Recruiter Catchphrase of 2010. And the winner is... drumroll please... PEDIGREE. If one more recruiter had told me that I had an "impressive pedigree" this year, then that person would have gotten an impressive kick in the ass.
Breaking news: dogs have pedigrees, and people earn degrees. The two are not interchangeable. Unlike a pedigree, which one is born with, a degree requires effort. In order to get my MBA, I had to study countless HBS cases, complete about 1,000 different group projects, take a bunch of "open note" tests, and put in some significant hours on the pong table. Recruiters, please recognize our hard work as such.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
The Five Month Itch
I was at work today, cleaning up a Power Point deck when the urge hit me: I really wanted to go online and see who was hiring.
But, you ask, didn't you just start working? Don't you like your job? Well, yes and yes. But it wouldn't hurt to look, right? Just to see what's out there - you know, keep my options open. (Ahem, just for a minute, just to see how it feels).
I'm a big fan of scapegoats, so I'm going to blame my sudden case of "grass is greener at other companies" on daylight savings time. The sun is just rising when I wake up, and the sky pitch black by the time that I leave work. Is it any wonder that my job seemed to lose a bit of its luster overnight?
Surely, there must be a magical company out there.
A place where I can work on fun and challenging projects while effortlessly maintaining work-life balance.
A place where my commute would be under 20 minutes by car. No traffic = no morning road rage = a better way to start the day. (Seriously, suburban traffic is the WORST. I now realize that the opening scene from Office Space was filmed during my morning commute.)
A place that caters lunch every day.
A place that gives me tons of vacation time.
A place that pays me like Bill Gates.
A place where the work is rewarding.
Surely, my list of job qualifications must be realistic. And also highly attainable. Unfortunately, I have the feeling that even if I switched roles, about five months into the next gig, I'd be wondering what else is out there.
Oh. My. God. It never ends, does it?
But, you ask, didn't you just start working? Don't you like your job? Well, yes and yes. But it wouldn't hurt to look, right? Just to see what's out there - you know, keep my options open. (Ahem, just for a minute, just to see how it feels).
I'm a big fan of scapegoats, so I'm going to blame my sudden case of "grass is greener at other companies" on daylight savings time. The sun is just rising when I wake up, and the sky pitch black by the time that I leave work. Is it any wonder that my job seemed to lose a bit of its luster overnight?
Surely, there must be a magical company out there.
A place where I can work on fun and challenging projects while effortlessly maintaining work-life balance.
A place where my commute would be under 20 minutes by car. No traffic = no morning road rage = a better way to start the day. (Seriously, suburban traffic is the WORST. I now realize that the opening scene from Office Space was filmed during my morning commute.)
A place that caters lunch every day.
A place that gives me tons of vacation time.
A place that pays me like Bill Gates.
A place where the work is rewarding.
Surely, my list of job qualifications must be realistic. And also highly attainable. Unfortunately, I have the feeling that even if I switched roles, about five months into the next gig, I'd be wondering what else is out there.
Oh. My. God. It never ends, does it?
Monday, November 1, 2010
Now Hiring Mid-Tier Talent
I recently attended a career fair on behalf of my employer and while I was there I did a bit of research.
Finding #1: Trading companies still have the best swag. (Thanks for the Camelbak, poker chip set, and branded ping pong balls!)
Finding #2: Most companies are not switching up their recruiting tactics, even though the dismal economy makes top talent much cheaper than usual. Ivy League grads can be hired today for the same wages that a few years back were barely high enough to draw students from state schools better known for their parties than their academics. And companies are not taking advantage of this. Why?
I posed this question to several recruiters at the fair and they all came back to me with more or less the same explanation: they had higher turnover among the graduates from top-ranked schools. Those employees would work for a year or two, and then move on to opportunities elsewhere. Students from Party U, on the other hand, would stick around for longer. And turnover, of course, is a bad thing so the recruiters primarily stuck with the less well known schools.
Allow me to summarize their argument: it's better to keep mediocre talent around for a longer period of time than to recruit top talent that sticks around for a shorter period of time.
There are certainly costs associated with turnover, but sometimes the higher level of performance will make up for those turnover costs. After all, is it better to get two really good years out of an employee or 10 mediocre years?
Finding #1: Trading companies still have the best swag. (Thanks for the Camelbak, poker chip set, and branded ping pong balls!)
Finding #2: Most companies are not switching up their recruiting tactics, even though the dismal economy makes top talent much cheaper than usual. Ivy League grads can be hired today for the same wages that a few years back were barely high enough to draw students from state schools better known for their parties than their academics. And companies are not taking advantage of this. Why?
I posed this question to several recruiters at the fair and they all came back to me with more or less the same explanation: they had higher turnover among the graduates from top-ranked schools. Those employees would work for a year or two, and then move on to opportunities elsewhere. Students from Party U, on the other hand, would stick around for longer. And turnover, of course, is a bad thing so the recruiters primarily stuck with the less well known schools.
Allow me to summarize their argument: it's better to keep mediocre talent around for a longer period of time than to recruit top talent that sticks around for a shorter period of time.
There are certainly costs associated with turnover, but sometimes the higher level of performance will make up for those turnover costs. After all, is it better to get two really good years out of an employee or 10 mediocre years?
Monday, September 6, 2010
Take Me Out to the Ballgame
Trading on the overnight shift made for a brutal schedule. By the time that Friday rolled around, I was often so exhausted that absolutely nothing could get me out of bed and out of the house. (Well, nothing except for my roommate, an energetic force of nature who simply refused to take no for an answer. She would march into my room, flip on the lights, and jump on my bed until I agreed to go out. Having fooled her a couple of times, saying that I was changing into my party clothes, and then promptly going back to sleep, she wouldn’t leave me unsupervised until we were safely out for the evening. “Nonsense,” she would respond when I complained that I was tired. “All you need is a Red Bull vodka or a tequila shot.” And you know what? She was usually right.)
Despite its incompatibility with normal social interaction, working vampire hours did have a few advantages, the most important being that you could do things during the day without having to take any time off work. This facet of the overnight shift was never more valuable than on opening day at Wrigley Field.
I was very excited about my first opening day experience. The plan was to meet at one of my co-worker’s apartments, and then, depending on the weather, get tickets and go to the game, or just watch from a local bar. We all left work together around 7:30am, the guys heading straight to Wrigley while I made a quick stop at my place to change. “Don’t worry,” my co-worker told me. “My place is easy to find. It’s right across the street from the ballpark and I’ll be out on the balcony wearing a felt cheeseburger hat.” His parting comment left me concerned that my intended costume change wouldn’t be nearly sufficient; a Cubs T-shirt definitely was not in the same league as a cheeseburger hat. I was clearly not going to be hanging out with amateurs.
Just as he had promised, I had no trouble locating my friend’s apartment. He was indeed holding court on the balcony, wearing said cheeseburger hat. The weather was cold and crappy, typical for early April in Chicago, so we decided to have a couple of beers at the apartment, and then hit one of the neighborhood bars. Around the end of the fourth inning, my co-worker announced that it was time to share our presence with the general public. Wearing his enormous cheeseburger hat, he shotgunned a beer “for the road” and led us down the street to the Cubby Bear.
The cheeseburger-hat-wearing leader of our entourage was an immediate hit with the drunken masses. Everyone wanted to buy him shots, and being unfailingly polite, he obliged every time. I was truly enjoying my crappy beer, in the way that is only possible when you are watching sports, when I turned around and did a double take: there was Mr. Cheeseburger, a beer in each hand, his fly unzipped, and his nuts hanging out. I assumed that this was the result of an unfortunate oversight in the men’s room so I discreetly mentioned it to him. “I know,” he said, and then promptly collapsed into giggles. Finally collecting himself, he continued to work the room while I just watched in amazement. He took photo after photo (because everyone wanted a picture with the cheeseburger guy), and no one noticed that his junk was hanging out. Not one single person.
The game had long since ended when we finally decided to call it a day. As we walked out of the bar, my friend leaned in and said “please don’t tell anyone at work that you saw my nuts.”
Despite its incompatibility with normal social interaction, working vampire hours did have a few advantages, the most important being that you could do things during the day without having to take any time off work. This facet of the overnight shift was never more valuable than on opening day at Wrigley Field.
I was very excited about my first opening day experience. The plan was to meet at one of my co-worker’s apartments, and then, depending on the weather, get tickets and go to the game, or just watch from a local bar. We all left work together around 7:30am, the guys heading straight to Wrigley while I made a quick stop at my place to change. “Don’t worry,” my co-worker told me. “My place is easy to find. It’s right across the street from the ballpark and I’ll be out on the balcony wearing a felt cheeseburger hat.” His parting comment left me concerned that my intended costume change wouldn’t be nearly sufficient; a Cubs T-shirt definitely was not in the same league as a cheeseburger hat. I was clearly not going to be hanging out with amateurs.
Just as he had promised, I had no trouble locating my friend’s apartment. He was indeed holding court on the balcony, wearing said cheeseburger hat. The weather was cold and crappy, typical for early April in Chicago, so we decided to have a couple of beers at the apartment, and then hit one of the neighborhood bars. Around the end of the fourth inning, my co-worker announced that it was time to share our presence with the general public. Wearing his enormous cheeseburger hat, he shotgunned a beer “for the road” and led us down the street to the Cubby Bear.
The cheeseburger-hat-wearing leader of our entourage was an immediate hit with the drunken masses. Everyone wanted to buy him shots, and being unfailingly polite, he obliged every time. I was truly enjoying my crappy beer, in the way that is only possible when you are watching sports, when I turned around and did a double take: there was Mr. Cheeseburger, a beer in each hand, his fly unzipped, and his nuts hanging out. I assumed that this was the result of an unfortunate oversight in the men’s room so I discreetly mentioned it to him. “I know,” he said, and then promptly collapsed into giggles. Finally collecting himself, he continued to work the room while I just watched in amazement. He took photo after photo (because everyone wanted a picture with the cheeseburger guy), and no one noticed that his junk was hanging out. Not one single person.
The game had long since ended when we finally decided to call it a day. As we walked out of the bar, my friend leaned in and said “please don’t tell anyone at work that you saw my nuts.”
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
My Cup Runneth Over
Now that I’m finally sitting on the other side of the recruiting table, I’ve picked up on a couple of things. For instance, employment requires a lot of paperwork. I’m talking mountains and mountains of paperwork. Tax forms, HR documents, benefit forms, employee profiles – the list goes on and on. And sometimes employment requires a drug test. Such was the case for me. Welcome to life in corporate America.
I have to admit that I was somewhat annoyed that I had to take a drug test at all. Not that the test would uncover any substances (besides trace amounts of wine and chocolate), but it was inconvenient and seemed just a touch Big Brother. However, the drug screen wasn’t bothersome enough for me to make a big deal about it, so I just swallowed my pride and resigned myself to peeing in a cup at the nearest lab.
I arranged to take my pre-employment drug screen shortly after I received my offer letter. I had my morning all planned out: 8am wakeup, 9am drug screen, and 10am yoga. Look at me being all healthy and productive!
I arrived at the lab and signed yet more paperwork to authorize the drug screen. The lab assistant patted down my pockets, locked up my purse, and then escorted me to the bathroom. I sat down and… nothing. I tried to think about flowing rivers and gentle ocean waves. Still nothing… and then at last something! Unfortunately, I’m an unpracticed hand at this whole “peeing in a cup” thing, so I generally missed. As it turns out, that was a HUGE executional error. I nervously walked out of the bathroom, desperately hoping that my cup runneth enough-eth even if it didn’t runneth over. No such luck: the lab assistant took one look at my cup and shook her head.
“Sweetie, that’s not enough. You have two options. One, you could stay here and retake the test. As long as you take it within three hours of when you checked in, it will count. You can’t go anywhere though. You have to stay here in the waiting area. You also have the option to not retake the screen; in that case, this attempt will be recorded as a refusal.”
This was a DISASTER. I had recruited for all of my second year and nearly a full year post-graduation; after that excruciating effort, I had finally landed an interesting job at a good company. And I was in danger of losing my offer because I couldn’t pee in a cup. I thought about all the boring and painful interviews that I thought were safely behind me; if I could not perform this basic bodily task, I could look forward to a future of yet more awkward and tiresome interviews. Absolutely not. I hadn’t come this far to get sent back to square one.
I consented to retake the test and then I did what any logical person would do: I immediately pounded five cups of water. Then I sat down and began to play the waiting game. After about 30 minutes, the lab assistant motioned to me to follow her back to the testing area. I had a bit of performance anxiety, though, so I requested to wait another 30 minutes. I felt that I had only one more shot, and I didn’t want to take any chances. She rolled her eyes, but agreed to let me wait another 30 minutes. I went back to reading, and the lab assistant went back to talking on the phone. In between paragraphs, I caught snippets of her conversation.
“Honey, it would be great if we could reschedule. Today is just jammed for me…”
“How’s your brother? He seemed really beat last week...”
“Nah, slow here right now. Just waiting on a shy guy...”
Hey, I wasn’t a shy guy! I was just a not-quite-adequately-hydrated guy.
After another 30 minutes, the lab assistant came to get me once more. I literally didn’t know if I had it in me, but I had no choice. It was now or never. Once again, the lab assistant patted down my clothing, locked up my purse, and escorted me to the bathroom. I would have found all the security precautions hilarious if I weren’t so worried about the very real possibility of not being able to provide an adequate urine sample. Seriously, anyone who believes me capable of tampering with a lab specimen has clearly never seen my chemistry grades. There is a reason why I bid chemistry an abrupt but joyous farewell halfway through my senior year in high school.
This was the moment. I tried to psych myself up and think positive thoughts. A Chicago team had actually managed to win a championship; surely, I could pee in a cup.
And you know what? I peed in a freaking cup. Give me a gold star. Grinning victoriously, I walked out of the bathroom and handed my cup to the lab assistant. I was clearly quite pleased with myself. However, the lab assistant didn’t seem sufficiently impressed by my achievement. I guess that’s what happens when you administer drug tests every day: you become too jaded to appreciate the human ability to pee on command, a skill that most of us mastered around the age of three.
I have to admit that I was somewhat annoyed that I had to take a drug test at all. Not that the test would uncover any substances (besides trace amounts of wine and chocolate), but it was inconvenient and seemed just a touch Big Brother. However, the drug screen wasn’t bothersome enough for me to make a big deal about it, so I just swallowed my pride and resigned myself to peeing in a cup at the nearest lab.
I arranged to take my pre-employment drug screen shortly after I received my offer letter. I had my morning all planned out: 8am wakeup, 9am drug screen, and 10am yoga. Look at me being all healthy and productive!
I arrived at the lab and signed yet more paperwork to authorize the drug screen. The lab assistant patted down my pockets, locked up my purse, and then escorted me to the bathroom. I sat down and… nothing. I tried to think about flowing rivers and gentle ocean waves. Still nothing… and then at last something! Unfortunately, I’m an unpracticed hand at this whole “peeing in a cup” thing, so I generally missed. As it turns out, that was a HUGE executional error. I nervously walked out of the bathroom, desperately hoping that my cup runneth enough-eth even if it didn’t runneth over. No such luck: the lab assistant took one look at my cup and shook her head.
“Sweetie, that’s not enough. You have two options. One, you could stay here and retake the test. As long as you take it within three hours of when you checked in, it will count. You can’t go anywhere though. You have to stay here in the waiting area. You also have the option to not retake the screen; in that case, this attempt will be recorded as a refusal.”
This was a DISASTER. I had recruited for all of my second year and nearly a full year post-graduation; after that excruciating effort, I had finally landed an interesting job at a good company. And I was in danger of losing my offer because I couldn’t pee in a cup. I thought about all the boring and painful interviews that I thought were safely behind me; if I could not perform this basic bodily task, I could look forward to a future of yet more awkward and tiresome interviews. Absolutely not. I hadn’t come this far to get sent back to square one.
I consented to retake the test and then I did what any logical person would do: I immediately pounded five cups of water. Then I sat down and began to play the waiting game. After about 30 minutes, the lab assistant motioned to me to follow her back to the testing area. I had a bit of performance anxiety, though, so I requested to wait another 30 minutes. I felt that I had only one more shot, and I didn’t want to take any chances. She rolled her eyes, but agreed to let me wait another 30 minutes. I went back to reading, and the lab assistant went back to talking on the phone. In between paragraphs, I caught snippets of her conversation.
“Honey, it would be great if we could reschedule. Today is just jammed for me…”
“How’s your brother? He seemed really beat last week...”
“Nah, slow here right now. Just waiting on a shy guy...”
Hey, I wasn’t a shy guy! I was just a not-quite-adequately-hydrated guy.
After another 30 minutes, the lab assistant came to get me once more. I literally didn’t know if I had it in me, but I had no choice. It was now or never. Once again, the lab assistant patted down my clothing, locked up my purse, and escorted me to the bathroom. I would have found all the security precautions hilarious if I weren’t so worried about the very real possibility of not being able to provide an adequate urine sample. Seriously, anyone who believes me capable of tampering with a lab specimen has clearly never seen my chemistry grades. There is a reason why I bid chemistry an abrupt but joyous farewell halfway through my senior year in high school.
This was the moment. I tried to psych myself up and think positive thoughts. A Chicago team had actually managed to win a championship; surely, I could pee in a cup.
And you know what? I peed in a freaking cup. Give me a gold star. Grinning victoriously, I walked out of the bathroom and handed my cup to the lab assistant. I was clearly quite pleased with myself. However, the lab assistant didn’t seem sufficiently impressed by my achievement. I guess that’s what happens when you administer drug tests every day: you become too jaded to appreciate the human ability to pee on command, a skill that most of us mastered around the age of three.
Sunday, August 8, 2010
Interview Hell Hall of Fame
Now that I’ve been off the interview circuit for nearly two full months, I thought it was time to look back and make my selections for the Interview Hell Hall of Fame.
The first nod goes to an advertising agency that I interviewed with in December of 2009. I arrived at the office about 15 minutes early for my 9AM interview, and got busy filling out the paperwork that the receptionist gave me. (Hooray – an employment application! That must mean that there’s actually a job!) A few minutes later, my HR contact came to get me. As we strolled from the elevator, she informed me that I was going to take a brief test – an assessment if you will. Nothing to worry about she assured me. This was the same test that they had undergraduate analysts take. She was sure that I would do quite well. (If you’re so sure, then why do I still have to take this stupid test?) She got me settled into the test room (an empty office), and explained the logistics. I would have three hours (what happened to brief?!) to take the three part test. The first section was an Excel test, the second was a very short marketing case question, and the third section was composed of a couple of brainteasers. I immediately realized that I had not consumed enough coffee to prepare me for the morning that I was going to have.
I quickly read through all three parts, and determined that the Excel section would require the lion’s share of my efforts. I had seen both of the brainteasers before in trading interviews (ha!) and I was going to be able to easily answer the shit out of the marketing case question thanks to my good friends, the 4 P’s and the 3 C’s.
Resigning myself to the unpleasant task at hand, I opened the Excel assessment to find an unformatted spreadsheet with sales data for a theoretical retailer. My job was to summarize the retailer’s business performance over the past year, noting high points and low points, as well as make recommendations for the upcoming holiday season. Please note that said performance summaries and recommendations were to be put into a short Power Point deck. And the company was still running Office 2003, not 2007 (aka the version that I am better versed in). Ugh.
I scrolled through the sales data, and sat in momentary panic for a moment. I briefly entertained the idea of walking out, but I soon thought better of it. I told myself to man up, and I began my analysis in earnest. I pivot tabled away, and soon a clear picture of the retailer’s performance began to emerge. I sketched out a short deck on paper, and then began to put together the actual deck in Power Point. Unfortunately, I soon found myself in the middle of a no-holds-barred brawl with the Chart Wizard. What was wrong with the charting functionality in 2003? Why wouldn’t it behave nicely like the 2007 version? One thing was for sure: I wanted to kick that machine.
After wringing my hands for a few moments, I realized that I didn’t have enough time to turn in a deck with both quality content and stylish formatting. I made the game time decision to focus on content. Thus decided on the “basic” approach, I quickly pounded out a deck and turned my attention to the next section.
The marketing case was really a very simple product launch question. It was clearly no match for an MBA who had mastered the 4 P’s and 3 C’s. I got to work and in no time, I had concisely answered the question and made it my bitch.
Last section. First brainteaser: how many cats are there in the United States? The actual number isn’t what’s important; what they want to see is the logic I use to come to a solution. There are approximately 115 million households in the United States. I decided to assume that a certain percentage of households had cats, and out of that percentage, some had a single cat while others had multiple cats. In addition, I had to account for strays; I did so by assuming that the stray cat population actually outnumbered the adopted cat population. In layman's terms, I multiplied the adopted cat population by two to reach my final answer. (If I wanted to get cute, I could have noted the correlation between the number of single women and cats, but I decided not to go that route.) My assumptions were laid out so I just did a couple of quick calculations and presto, I had the cat population. Suffice it to say, some of my assumptions were off, but I thought my approach was valid. (Approximately 32% of households own cat(s)? Dang, I thought the number would be a lot lower.)
Second brainteaser: You have a balance scale and nine balls. All of the balls are identical, but one of the balls is heavier than the others. What is the minimum number of times that you would have to use the scale to find the heavier ball?
Thank you trading. You are about to save me a lot of time and brainpower. Two. Final answer. (Place 3 balls on each side of the scale and put 3 aside. If the scale balances, you know that the heavier ball is in the set sitting off to the side. If the scale doesn’t balance, you know that the heavier ball is in the set that is heavier on the scale. One you’ve narrowed it down to 3 balls, then place one on each side of the scale, and put one aside. The logic is the same as above.)
Incredibly happy to be done, I turned my test in. I had more interviews in the afternoon, but first it was lunch time. Unfortunately for me, it was a working lunch. To be clear, every time that you interact with someone from the company during the application process, it is an interview; that being said, was it really that crazy of me to assume that I’d actually get to eat during lunch? An analyst took me out for lunch at a nearby restaurant, but she couldn’t stop asking questions. She did not relent for the entire time that we were out, so I wound up trying to cram food into my mouth during the 5 second pause between questions. I was in famished super bitch mode at this point so I really did not appreciate the speed eating game. And I forgot to mention: I was the only one attempting to eat at lunch. We were running short on time (meaning 45 minutes instead of a full hour for lunch) so the analyst ordered her food to go after I ordered my food. Awesome. Thanks for making me eat by myself.
More or less sufficiently nourished, I returned to the office. I made the rounds and met with four different managers. I told them all about times when I had exhibited leadership and handled conflict on a team. At the end of my day, I debriefed with the HR manager who assured me that they would make a decision soon, but probably not until after the holidays. Fair enough. What was the outcome you ask? I heard nothing from this company for a full month, and then in mid-January, they had me come in for another round of interviews. After round two, I heard nothing. I called and emailed the recruiter but received no response. Finally at the end of February, I got a call from the recruiter thanking me for my time but telling me that they had decided the hire an undergrad instead. Cheaper labor, you know.
More Hall of Fame selections to come...
The first nod goes to an advertising agency that I interviewed with in December of 2009. I arrived at the office about 15 minutes early for my 9AM interview, and got busy filling out the paperwork that the receptionist gave me. (Hooray – an employment application! That must mean that there’s actually a job!) A few minutes later, my HR contact came to get me. As we strolled from the elevator, she informed me that I was going to take a brief test – an assessment if you will. Nothing to worry about she assured me. This was the same test that they had undergraduate analysts take. She was sure that I would do quite well. (If you’re so sure, then why do I still have to take this stupid test?) She got me settled into the test room (an empty office), and explained the logistics. I would have three hours (what happened to brief?!) to take the three part test. The first section was an Excel test, the second was a very short marketing case question, and the third section was composed of a couple of brainteasers. I immediately realized that I had not consumed enough coffee to prepare me for the morning that I was going to have.
I quickly read through all three parts, and determined that the Excel section would require the lion’s share of my efforts. I had seen both of the brainteasers before in trading interviews (ha!) and I was going to be able to easily answer the shit out of the marketing case question thanks to my good friends, the 4 P’s and the 3 C’s.
Resigning myself to the unpleasant task at hand, I opened the Excel assessment to find an unformatted spreadsheet with sales data for a theoretical retailer. My job was to summarize the retailer’s business performance over the past year, noting high points and low points, as well as make recommendations for the upcoming holiday season. Please note that said performance summaries and recommendations were to be put into a short Power Point deck. And the company was still running Office 2003, not 2007 (aka the version that I am better versed in). Ugh.
I scrolled through the sales data, and sat in momentary panic for a moment. I briefly entertained the idea of walking out, but I soon thought better of it. I told myself to man up, and I began my analysis in earnest. I pivot tabled away, and soon a clear picture of the retailer’s performance began to emerge. I sketched out a short deck on paper, and then began to put together the actual deck in Power Point. Unfortunately, I soon found myself in the middle of a no-holds-barred brawl with the Chart Wizard. What was wrong with the charting functionality in 2003? Why wouldn’t it behave nicely like the 2007 version? One thing was for sure: I wanted to kick that machine.
After wringing my hands for a few moments, I realized that I didn’t have enough time to turn in a deck with both quality content and stylish formatting. I made the game time decision to focus on content. Thus decided on the “basic” approach, I quickly pounded out a deck and turned my attention to the next section.
The marketing case was really a very simple product launch question. It was clearly no match for an MBA who had mastered the 4 P’s and 3 C’s. I got to work and in no time, I had concisely answered the question and made it my bitch.
Last section. First brainteaser: how many cats are there in the United States? The actual number isn’t what’s important; what they want to see is the logic I use to come to a solution. There are approximately 115 million households in the United States. I decided to assume that a certain percentage of households had cats, and out of that percentage, some had a single cat while others had multiple cats. In addition, I had to account for strays; I did so by assuming that the stray cat population actually outnumbered the adopted cat population. In layman's terms, I multiplied the adopted cat population by two to reach my final answer. (If I wanted to get cute, I could have noted the correlation between the number of single women and cats, but I decided not to go that route.) My assumptions were laid out so I just did a couple of quick calculations and presto, I had the cat population. Suffice it to say, some of my assumptions were off, but I thought my approach was valid. (Approximately 32% of households own cat(s)? Dang, I thought the number would be a lot lower.)
Second brainteaser: You have a balance scale and nine balls. All of the balls are identical, but one of the balls is heavier than the others. What is the minimum number of times that you would have to use the scale to find the heavier ball?
Thank you trading. You are about to save me a lot of time and brainpower. Two. Final answer. (Place 3 balls on each side of the scale and put 3 aside. If the scale balances, you know that the heavier ball is in the set sitting off to the side. If the scale doesn’t balance, you know that the heavier ball is in the set that is heavier on the scale. One you’ve narrowed it down to 3 balls, then place one on each side of the scale, and put one aside. The logic is the same as above.)
Incredibly happy to be done, I turned my test in. I had more interviews in the afternoon, but first it was lunch time. Unfortunately for me, it was a working lunch. To be clear, every time that you interact with someone from the company during the application process, it is an interview; that being said, was it really that crazy of me to assume that I’d actually get to eat during lunch? An analyst took me out for lunch at a nearby restaurant, but she couldn’t stop asking questions. She did not relent for the entire time that we were out, so I wound up trying to cram food into my mouth during the 5 second pause between questions. I was in famished super bitch mode at this point so I really did not appreciate the speed eating game. And I forgot to mention: I was the only one attempting to eat at lunch. We were running short on time (meaning 45 minutes instead of a full hour for lunch) so the analyst ordered her food to go after I ordered my food. Awesome. Thanks for making me eat by myself.
More or less sufficiently nourished, I returned to the office. I made the rounds and met with four different managers. I told them all about times when I had exhibited leadership and handled conflict on a team. At the end of my day, I debriefed with the HR manager who assured me that they would make a decision soon, but probably not until after the holidays. Fair enough. What was the outcome you ask? I heard nothing from this company for a full month, and then in mid-January, they had me come in for another round of interviews. After round two, I heard nothing. I called and emailed the recruiter but received no response. Finally at the end of February, I got a call from the recruiter thanking me for my time but telling me that they had decided the hire an undergrad instead. Cheaper labor, you know.
More Hall of Fame selections to come...
Saturday, July 17, 2010
I Challenge... Myself
I learned all sorts of charming phrases such as BYL (verb: to blow your load) and woodshed (verb: to discipline someone) when I worked on the trading floor. I also witnessed firsthand the male affinity for any and all types of eating contests: Big Macs, hot sauce, raw onions, milk, etc. Disturbing yet fascinating.
Time and time again, I was shocked at what men would do in the name of a bet.
Example #1: Munchkin contest
The setting: trading desk
The food: Dunkin Donuts Munchkins
The challenger: a clerk looking for a little extra spending money
The motivation: sheer morbid curiosity
The outcome: 84 Munchkins consumed and approximately 82 Munchkins vomited back up
Example #2: McDonald’s ice cream cone contest
The setting: McDonald’s restaurant in Barcelona
The food: vanilla ice cream cones
The challengers: University of Chicago students studying abroad in Spain
The motivation: only 50 centavos per cono!
The outcome: contest called on account of group brain freeze
Apparently traders are not the only professionals who are enticed to enter eating contests. A friend of mine, a lawyer at a prestigious Chicago law firm, fondly recalls the Taco Bell challenge phase of law school:
The signature Taco Bell Challenge lineup included 20 item, ranging from cheesy bean and rice burritos to chicken quesadillas. Several pounds of food were to be consumed, with $100 on the line. The first competitor began the event confident and cheerful, even chasing his fare with Knob Creek bourbon. By the end of that fateful night, three people had pitched in attempting to conquer the Taco Bell Challenge, and all three ended on the ground in both failure and gastrointestinal distress.
I cringed at hearing the details of the Taco Bell challenge. I also laughed myself stupid. And then I had a sobering thought: what would have happened had the participants attempted the challenge after Taco Bell added seafood items to its menu? Can you imagine the outcome of the Pacific Shrimp Taco challenge?
Of course, as soon as this brilliant idea occurred to me, I tried to figure out who I could goad into attempting said Pacific Shrimp Taco challenge. My natural instinct was to approach either my business school friends or lawyer friends, as I have noticed a high positive correlation between advanced degrees and stupid decisions (aka eating contests). It begs the question: could that correlation exist because getting an advanced degree IS a stupid decision?
Time and time again, I was shocked at what men would do in the name of a bet.
Example #1: Munchkin contest
The setting: trading desk
The food: Dunkin Donuts Munchkins
The challenger: a clerk looking for a little extra spending money
The motivation: sheer morbid curiosity
The outcome: 84 Munchkins consumed and approximately 82 Munchkins vomited back up
Example #2: McDonald’s ice cream cone contest
The setting: McDonald’s restaurant in Barcelona
The food: vanilla ice cream cones
The challengers: University of Chicago students studying abroad in Spain
The motivation: only 50 centavos per cono!
The outcome: contest called on account of group brain freeze
Apparently traders are not the only professionals who are enticed to enter eating contests. A friend of mine, a lawyer at a prestigious Chicago law firm, fondly recalls the Taco Bell challenge phase of law school:
The signature Taco Bell Challenge lineup included 20 item, ranging from cheesy bean and rice burritos to chicken quesadillas. Several pounds of food were to be consumed, with $100 on the line. The first competitor began the event confident and cheerful, even chasing his fare with Knob Creek bourbon. By the end of that fateful night, three people had pitched in attempting to conquer the Taco Bell Challenge, and all three ended on the ground in both failure and gastrointestinal distress.
I cringed at hearing the details of the Taco Bell challenge. I also laughed myself stupid. And then I had a sobering thought: what would have happened had the participants attempted the challenge after Taco Bell added seafood items to its menu? Can you imagine the outcome of the Pacific Shrimp Taco challenge?
Of course, as soon as this brilliant idea occurred to me, I tried to figure out who I could goad into attempting said Pacific Shrimp Taco challenge. My natural instinct was to approach either my business school friends or lawyer friends, as I have noticed a high positive correlation between advanced degrees and stupid decisions (aka eating contests). It begs the question: could that correlation exist because getting an advanced degree IS a stupid decision?
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Bidness Casual
I recently rejoined the ranks of the employed, and one of my first discoveries was that I had virtually nothing in the way of a professional wardrobe. You might think that this issue would occur to me sooner than the night before I was scheduled to start work. You would be wrong.
Trading was useless both in terms of developing transferrable job skills and building a professional wardrobe. My typical trading ensemble consisted of a hoodie, jeans, and flips flops, but apparently Corporate America doesn’t view that as business casual. Well, that is certainly news to me.
Let’s examine the contents of my wardrobe in greater detail:
20% Party dresses
18% Clothing showing inappropriate cleavage
7% Bridesmaid dresses
10% Winter coats
3% Suiting
15% Hoodies
10% Dresses
10% Jeans
2% Button downs
5% Sweaters
Even the numbers are misleading: my suits are all wool and hence entirely inappropriate for sweltering 90 degree summer days. (Plus I’d then be that douchebag wearing a suit in a business casual environment.) The vast majority of my dresses and sweaters are also not warm weather friendly. Come winter, I’ll be looking (professionally) cute, but for the time being I appear to be SOL. I shake my fist at you, summer!
The obvious solution to my wardrobe dilemma? Shopping! Normally I would celebrate the opportunity to shop, but normally I would be shopping for yet more party dresses. Shopping for professional clothing isn’t nearly as fun because most options are of the plain vanilla variety. I’m not a man so I refuse to dress like one. Therefore the slacks and button down uniform is out. Same for the khakis and polo shirt combo.
I am also forced to exclude many fabulous dresses. Mid-thigh hem? Out. Just a bit too clingy? Out. Back zip? Out. (I could write an entire book on how irate I get when I find an amazing dress that zips in the back. Breaking news fashion designers: you render me incapable of dressing myself when you design a dress that zips in the back! While it still works out just fine for the population that is partnered or has roommates, it does not work for me. Either I have to forego your magnificent creations entirely, or I have to sneak into work with my dress halfway zipped and pray that I can get one of my co-workers to zip me the rest of the way up before I run into my boss. I know that Liz Lemon figured out a solution to this vexing problem, but I don’t want my morning routine to include weird contortions on a treadmill. Seriously, I would consider marriage just so I would be guaranteed dressing assistance every morning, infinitely expanding my wardrobe possibilities.)
I was saying? Oh yes, this whole professional wardrobe business is really quite tricky. I can tell you exactly where my first paycheck is going: straight to my good friends J.Crew and Ann Taylor. All of my subsequent paychecks will be routed directly to Sallie Mae.
Trading was useless both in terms of developing transferrable job skills and building a professional wardrobe. My typical trading ensemble consisted of a hoodie, jeans, and flips flops, but apparently Corporate America doesn’t view that as business casual. Well, that is certainly news to me.
Let’s examine the contents of my wardrobe in greater detail:
20% Party dresses
18% Clothing showing inappropriate cleavage
7% Bridesmaid dresses
10% Winter coats
3% Suiting
15% Hoodies
10% Dresses
10% Jeans
2% Button downs
5% Sweaters
Even the numbers are misleading: my suits are all wool and hence entirely inappropriate for sweltering 90 degree summer days. (Plus I’d then be that douchebag wearing a suit in a business casual environment.) The vast majority of my dresses and sweaters are also not warm weather friendly. Come winter, I’ll be looking (professionally) cute, but for the time being I appear to be SOL. I shake my fist at you, summer!
The obvious solution to my wardrobe dilemma? Shopping! Normally I would celebrate the opportunity to shop, but normally I would be shopping for yet more party dresses. Shopping for professional clothing isn’t nearly as fun because most options are of the plain vanilla variety. I’m not a man so I refuse to dress like one. Therefore the slacks and button down uniform is out. Same for the khakis and polo shirt combo.
I am also forced to exclude many fabulous dresses. Mid-thigh hem? Out. Just a bit too clingy? Out. Back zip? Out. (I could write an entire book on how irate I get when I find an amazing dress that zips in the back. Breaking news fashion designers: you render me incapable of dressing myself when you design a dress that zips in the back! While it still works out just fine for the population that is partnered or has roommates, it does not work for me. Either I have to forego your magnificent creations entirely, or I have to sneak into work with my dress halfway zipped and pray that I can get one of my co-workers to zip me the rest of the way up before I run into my boss. I know that Liz Lemon figured out a solution to this vexing problem, but I don’t want my morning routine to include weird contortions on a treadmill. Seriously, I would consider marriage just so I would be guaranteed dressing assistance every morning, infinitely expanding my wardrobe possibilities.)
I was saying? Oh yes, this whole professional wardrobe business is really quite tricky. I can tell you exactly where my first paycheck is going: straight to my good friends J.Crew and Ann Taylor. All of my subsequent paychecks will be routed directly to Sallie Mae.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Fine, I'll Just Boycott
One of my best friends, introduced me to a fascinating consumer strategy: boycotting. Her family has a long and storied history of boycotting that began the day that her father was denied help by attendants at a Shell gas station. The year was 1948 and her father and his friend were ice fishing on a cold winter day. Her father fell through the ice, but luckily his friend was able to pull him out. They set off on foot for help, and the first place they came to was a Shell gas station. They asked to to use the phone, but the Shell attendant yelled at them to leave. Her father eventually got help, but he never forgot the way that Shell abandoned him in his hour of need. And so he began the Shell Boycott, and he taught his family to boycott with loyalty and honor. On one particularly memorable family outing, he drove right past three Shell gas stations despite the fact that the car was running on fumes. A boycott is a boycott, regardless of convenience. To this day, when the family feels that an injustice has been served, they boycott.
I first heard this boycotting tale during the spring of my first year at business school. I was still recruiting for a summer internship (even as a first year, I was a late bloomer), but I had a couple of promising prospects. One of those was a marketing role with a major fast food company. Because I wasn’t a local candidate, I had several rounds of phone interviews. For the first round, I spoke with a recruiter and for the second round, I interviewed with several marketing managers. During my second set of phone interviews, they put me through the wringer. I wasn’t asked a softball question like what my favorite brand was or asked to provide an example of what I thought was a poorly designed advertising campaign; no, I was calculating breakeven ROI in my head (Excel wouldn’t load quickly enough since I still had Crystal Ball installed on my computer – rookie mistake). I held my own, though, and managed to crank out the numbers. At the end of the interview, I was given a decision timeline.
The requisite two weeks passed, and still I heard nothing. I called the recruiter to touch base and she was very apologetic as she explained that management had been away for Fastfood-a-palooza. Because they had been busy crowd surfing to french fry chants, they hadn’t had a chance to review intern candidates, but she promised that they would make a decision very soon. Another two weeks passed, and still there was nothing but silence on my end. At this point, I realized that a decision had been made and the decision was no. However, I was irate that nobody had even bothered to send me a generic email update. I had spent close to three hours on the phone interviewing with members of their team and countless more hours doing interview prep; the least they could do was acknowledge me with a polite decline.
I was only a first year so I hadn’t yet developed the thick recruiting skin that I have now. My baseline assumption was that companies would treat me as a valuable candidate whether or not they ultimately decided to bring me on board. By the middle of my second year at business school, I adjusted my ideas regarding recruiting, and I began to assume that companies would decline to get back to me if they had decided not to move forward with my candidacy. I found myself pleasantly surprised when I would actually receive the polite refusal email. “How thoughtful,” I would find myself thinking. “It was truly considerate of the recruiter to send me a three sentence email to inform me that they had decided to make an offer to another candidate. Gee, all I did was set up calls with a couple of alums at the company, research the company online, travel cross country to get to company headquarters, and interview all day with members of the team, all on my own dime.”
As an applicant, I generally felt powerless; the companies seemed to hold all the cards. However, I eventually realized that perhaps that wasn’t the case. I relayed the story of my silent rejection to my friend and she listened thoughtfully. Then a wide grin stole across her face as she gleefully announced “BOYCOTT!” and proceeded to explain her family's tradition of boycotting.
Admittedly, the boycott would have a rather limited financial impact as I never really ate much fast food to begin with, but that detail is beside the point. The main goal that a boycott would accomplish is a psychological one. Namely: I am not purchasing your products because I was disinclined to do so in the first place; no, I am rejecting your brand in order to relay the message that your company sucks at life.
Unfortunately, when you are interviewing with as many companies as I am, and summarily boycotting all products made by those that rejected you, you quickly find that shopping becomes a challenge. I can’t buy half of the products in grocery stores, and the deodorant category leaves me in dire straights. I am a stubborn human being, though, so I pressed on and made substitutions as necessarily to support my boycotts.
A severe blow was dealt to my boycotting strategy when I was rejected by one of my favorite retail stores. I began to rationalize that perhaps I could make an exception. Just because they didn’t recognize talent didn’t necessarily mean that I had to cut them out of my life entirely. We could still be friends, right? My enthusiasm for boycotts collapsed completely the day that one of my favorite cosmetic brands refused me. There was NO WAY that I was going without mascara and skin toner.
I hang in head in shame, knowing that I do not have the boycotting fortitude of my friend's family. At least my teeth will be minty fresh, my skin glowing, and my hair shiny. Disgrace looks good on me.
I first heard this boycotting tale during the spring of my first year at business school. I was still recruiting for a summer internship (even as a first year, I was a late bloomer), but I had a couple of promising prospects. One of those was a marketing role with a major fast food company. Because I wasn’t a local candidate, I had several rounds of phone interviews. For the first round, I spoke with a recruiter and for the second round, I interviewed with several marketing managers. During my second set of phone interviews, they put me through the wringer. I wasn’t asked a softball question like what my favorite brand was or asked to provide an example of what I thought was a poorly designed advertising campaign; no, I was calculating breakeven ROI in my head (Excel wouldn’t load quickly enough since I still had Crystal Ball installed on my computer – rookie mistake). I held my own, though, and managed to crank out the numbers. At the end of the interview, I was given a decision timeline.
The requisite two weeks passed, and still I heard nothing. I called the recruiter to touch base and she was very apologetic as she explained that management had been away for Fastfood-a-palooza. Because they had been busy crowd surfing to french fry chants, they hadn’t had a chance to review intern candidates, but she promised that they would make a decision very soon. Another two weeks passed, and still there was nothing but silence on my end. At this point, I realized that a decision had been made and the decision was no. However, I was irate that nobody had even bothered to send me a generic email update. I had spent close to three hours on the phone interviewing with members of their team and countless more hours doing interview prep; the least they could do was acknowledge me with a polite decline.
I was only a first year so I hadn’t yet developed the thick recruiting skin that I have now. My baseline assumption was that companies would treat me as a valuable candidate whether or not they ultimately decided to bring me on board. By the middle of my second year at business school, I adjusted my ideas regarding recruiting, and I began to assume that companies would decline to get back to me if they had decided not to move forward with my candidacy. I found myself pleasantly surprised when I would actually receive the polite refusal email. “How thoughtful,” I would find myself thinking. “It was truly considerate of the recruiter to send me a three sentence email to inform me that they had decided to make an offer to another candidate. Gee, all I did was set up calls with a couple of alums at the company, research the company online, travel cross country to get to company headquarters, and interview all day with members of the team, all on my own dime.”
As an applicant, I generally felt powerless; the companies seemed to hold all the cards. However, I eventually realized that perhaps that wasn’t the case. I relayed the story of my silent rejection to my friend and she listened thoughtfully. Then a wide grin stole across her face as she gleefully announced “BOYCOTT!” and proceeded to explain her family's tradition of boycotting.
Admittedly, the boycott would have a rather limited financial impact as I never really ate much fast food to begin with, but that detail is beside the point. The main goal that a boycott would accomplish is a psychological one. Namely: I am not purchasing your products because I was disinclined to do so in the first place; no, I am rejecting your brand in order to relay the message that your company sucks at life.
Unfortunately, when you are interviewing with as many companies as I am, and summarily boycotting all products made by those that rejected you, you quickly find that shopping becomes a challenge. I can’t buy half of the products in grocery stores, and the deodorant category leaves me in dire straights. I am a stubborn human being, though, so I pressed on and made substitutions as necessarily to support my boycotts.
A severe blow was dealt to my boycotting strategy when I was rejected by one of my favorite retail stores. I began to rationalize that perhaps I could make an exception. Just because they didn’t recognize talent didn’t necessarily mean that I had to cut them out of my life entirely. We could still be friends, right? My enthusiasm for boycotts collapsed completely the day that one of my favorite cosmetic brands refused me. There was NO WAY that I was going without mascara and skin toner.
I hang in head in shame, knowing that I do not have the boycotting fortitude of my friend's family. At least my teeth will be minty fresh, my skin glowing, and my hair shiny. Disgrace looks good on me.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Push It Real Good
The story that I’m about to share is a trading urban legend dating back to circa 2000.
It was a dreary morning and one of the clerks was braving the rain to get to work. He was just walking out of the parking garage when the CEO of the company pulled up in his Porsche.
“Hey, I’m running late. Park my car and bring the keys down to me on the floor.”
And so the CEO jumped out of his car and headed into the Merc, leaving the clerk to park his Porsche. Having no choice, the clerk slid into the driver’s seat, and Salt N’Pepa’s “Push It” immediately hit his eardrums. The song was blaring. Thinking it was the radio, the clerk went to change the station. But it was not the radio. No friends, it was a CD (remember this was back in the dark ages before iPods).
Yes, the CEO, a white guy in his mid thirties, had been rolling around Chicago pumping some serious jams. Push it, push it real good!
After hearing this story, I was no longer intimidated by my boss. Sure, he might yell sometimes, and he understood trading at a level that I could never hope to come close to, but at the end of the day, we were really the same. We both liked Salt N’Pepa.
It was a dreary morning and one of the clerks was braving the rain to get to work. He was just walking out of the parking garage when the CEO of the company pulled up in his Porsche.
“Hey, I’m running late. Park my car and bring the keys down to me on the floor.”
And so the CEO jumped out of his car and headed into the Merc, leaving the clerk to park his Porsche. Having no choice, the clerk slid into the driver’s seat, and Salt N’Pepa’s “Push It” immediately hit his eardrums. The song was blaring. Thinking it was the radio, the clerk went to change the station. But it was not the radio. No friends, it was a CD (remember this was back in the dark ages before iPods).
Yes, the CEO, a white guy in his mid thirties, had been rolling around Chicago pumping some serious jams. Push it, push it real good!
After hearing this story, I was no longer intimidated by my boss. Sure, he might yell sometimes, and he understood trading at a level that I could never hope to come close to, but at the end of the day, we were really the same. We both liked Salt N’Pepa.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
What I Really Learned in Business School
I had begun my second year of business school in high spirits, but recruiting began to rain on my parade almost immediately when I returned to campus. Apparently, the fact that I didn’t receive an offer at the end of my summer internships was considered a huge black mark against me, even though the company hired exclusively on an as-needed basis. Why didn’t anyone tell me that I would be penalized for interning at a company that didn't have a formal MBA recruiting program?
Fortunately, business school had equipped me with the ability to handle just such an issue, even though I may not have realized it at the time. At first, I broke into a cold sweat every time that a professor looked in my direction during class, certain that a cold call was headed my way. It usually was as business school professors seemed to have an uncanny ability to detect fear. One minute I’d be minding my own business, flipping through the case and trying to look like I was really busy taking notes on all of the professor’s brilliant insights, and the next minute the professor would swivel his head in slow motion to where I was sitting, locking in on his next cold call target. At that moment, I had to make a critical decision: should I boldly make eye contact in the hopes that my confidence would persuade the professor to move on and seek out the true weak gazelle or should I double down my efforts to concentrate on my notes, just daring the professor to interrupt my learning? The scientific method confirmed that it actually didn’t matter what I did; in general, once a professor had made the decision to cold call a certain student, that student was getting called on period.
As much as I may have dreaded cold calls, I must admit that they prepared me to think on my feet. In other words, cold calls forced me to learn the fine art of bullshitting. Didn’t read beyond the first paragraph of the case? Randomly select one of Porter’s Five Forces and expound upon why supplier power is important in a particular industry. Came up with a number that’s not remotely close to the professor’s solution? Identify an input that you are positive is correct and explain how you calculated it.
Business school had taught me how to be resourceful and creative. Reality was irrelevant; all that truly mattered was how you spun it.
Fortunately, business school had equipped me with the ability to handle just such an issue, even though I may not have realized it at the time. At first, I broke into a cold sweat every time that a professor looked in my direction during class, certain that a cold call was headed my way. It usually was as business school professors seemed to have an uncanny ability to detect fear. One minute I’d be minding my own business, flipping through the case and trying to look like I was really busy taking notes on all of the professor’s brilliant insights, and the next minute the professor would swivel his head in slow motion to where I was sitting, locking in on his next cold call target. At that moment, I had to make a critical decision: should I boldly make eye contact in the hopes that my confidence would persuade the professor to move on and seek out the true weak gazelle or should I double down my efforts to concentrate on my notes, just daring the professor to interrupt my learning? The scientific method confirmed that it actually didn’t matter what I did; in general, once a professor had made the decision to cold call a certain student, that student was getting called on period.
As much as I may have dreaded cold calls, I must admit that they prepared me to think on my feet. In other words, cold calls forced me to learn the fine art of bullshitting. Didn’t read beyond the first paragraph of the case? Randomly select one of Porter’s Five Forces and expound upon why supplier power is important in a particular industry. Came up with a number that’s not remotely close to the professor’s solution? Identify an input that you are positive is correct and explain how you calculated it.
Business school had taught me how to be resourceful and creative. Reality was irrelevant; all that truly mattered was how you spun it.
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Who Are All These Shiftless Human Beings?
Since graduating from business school last June, I’ve basically been living the life of a suburban housewife, minus the husband and kids. I spend my days sipping café au laits, picking up dry cleaning, grocery shopping, doing laundry, unloading the dishwasher, attending yuppie exercise classes at yuppie suburban gyms, and on very rare occasions preparing elaborate meals. I have yet to pick up the habit of watching bad daytime TV, but if I really applied myself, I’m sure I could make it happen.
Of course, I haven’t fully caught onto the concept. I’m fairly certain that most suburban housewives do not take conference calls on speaker phone while driving to the gym, nor do they obsessively check their BlackBerries while in line at the grocery store. That being said, my flexible Monday-Friday schedule more closely resembles that of a suburban housewife than that of a young professional.
I was in the middle of a rather typical weekday morning when all of a sudden, it occurred to me to wonder why all these other people were meandering about Target at 11am on a Wednesday? I will make the blanket assumption that all the women with children in tow are stay-at-home moms, but what about everyone else?
Who are all these shiftless human beings? Like you, the 40 year old man picking up a bag of dog food. And you, the 25 year old woman perusing the greeting cards.
I have come up with several theories:
1) Like me, perhaps these other people have just finished school and they are in the middle of a slow transition back to the real world.
2) Maybe everyone else is unemployed. I mean, we are in the middle of a nasty recession.
3) Wait no – all of these people are on vacation. But if you’re on vacation, why in the world would you be in a Target in the northwest suburbs of Chicago? Shouldn’t you be on a beach drinking something with an umbrella in it or navigating a foreign city while getting into hilarious language barrier related hijinks? Perhaps because of budget concerns, they’re on one of those super lame staycations, in which case I would argue that you could come up with better things to do on your precious time off. Why not hop a train into the city and hit up a museum on a free day or explore Millennium Park or do one of the many other things in the city that are completely gratis?
4) I suppose that these people could simply work jobs that aren’t the typical 9-5. Maybe they work in retail? Or they trade during European hours? Perhaps they are reporters who have to be ready to cover breaking news at any hour of the day? Or they are teachers enjoying summer break? Maybe they are nurses who work the night shift? Or trust fund babies? (Although once again, why in the world would someone with a sizeable trust fund be hanging out in the suburbs of Chicago? Have we learned nothing from Gossip Girl? Lucky rich girls and boys prance around Manhattan and Paris, not the Midwest.) Most likely, they work for the CIA and are protecting national security by patrolling the aisles of Target.
Of course, I haven’t fully caught onto the concept. I’m fairly certain that most suburban housewives do not take conference calls on speaker phone while driving to the gym, nor do they obsessively check their BlackBerries while in line at the grocery store. That being said, my flexible Monday-Friday schedule more closely resembles that of a suburban housewife than that of a young professional.
I was in the middle of a rather typical weekday morning when all of a sudden, it occurred to me to wonder why all these other people were meandering about Target at 11am on a Wednesday? I will make the blanket assumption that all the women with children in tow are stay-at-home moms, but what about everyone else?
Who are all these shiftless human beings? Like you, the 40 year old man picking up a bag of dog food. And you, the 25 year old woman perusing the greeting cards.
I have come up with several theories:
1) Like me, perhaps these other people have just finished school and they are in the middle of a slow transition back to the real world.
2) Maybe everyone else is unemployed. I mean, we are in the middle of a nasty recession.
3) Wait no – all of these people are on vacation. But if you’re on vacation, why in the world would you be in a Target in the northwest suburbs of Chicago? Shouldn’t you be on a beach drinking something with an umbrella in it or navigating a foreign city while getting into hilarious language barrier related hijinks? Perhaps because of budget concerns, they’re on one of those super lame staycations, in which case I would argue that you could come up with better things to do on your precious time off. Why not hop a train into the city and hit up a museum on a free day or explore Millennium Park or do one of the many other things in the city that are completely gratis?
4) I suppose that these people could simply work jobs that aren’t the typical 9-5. Maybe they work in retail? Or they trade during European hours? Perhaps they are reporters who have to be ready to cover breaking news at any hour of the day? Or they are teachers enjoying summer break? Maybe they are nurses who work the night shift? Or trust fund babies? (Although once again, why in the world would someone with a sizeable trust fund be hanging out in the suburbs of Chicago? Have we learned nothing from Gossip Girl? Lucky rich girls and boys prance around Manhattan and Paris, not the Midwest.) Most likely, they work for the CIA and are protecting national security by patrolling the aisles of Target.
Thursday, May 27, 2010
I Make It Rain
I had yet another interview earlier this week and let me tell you, it was amazing that I made it there at all. I was having one of those mornings where an entire hour seemed to pass by in seconds, and the next thing I knew I was swearing at the clock as I realized that I should have left for my interview five minutes ago.
I frantically tried to put on my shoes – not an easy task since I had decided to wear espadrilles. If I were a normal person, I would have just looped the ribbon around my ankle, tied it in a knot, and called it a day. Clearly, that's not my style. I had picked up my espadrilles in Madrid a few years back; while I was there I was delighted to discover that Calle Toledo was full of little stores that sold espadrilles for a fraction of the price that they retailed for back in the US, even with the dismal exchange rate. Of course, I went buck wild and picked up about half a dozen pairs of shoes. (Like you wouldn’t have done the same.) While I was stocking up on a lifetime’s worth of espadrilles, the store owner gave me an espadrille tying tutorial that I have never forgotten. His method results in a securely tied shoe that still allows blood circulation; however, his method is also a bit time intensive which is problematic when you’re already running late.
Now you might be wondering why I elected to wear espadrilles to a job interview. Um, because espadrilles completed my outfit. Let me clarify: I had explicitly been told that the office dress code was quite casual, and I had witnessed said casual dress code firsthand the week before at my first round interview. Therefore goodbye black wool suit and hello cute (but professional) summer dress and espadrilles.
As I was driving to my interview, I silently said a prayer of thanks that Chicago motorists seem to view speed limits as a helpful suggestion rather than a legal mandate. Despite massive amounts of construction, traffic continued to move, and I managed to make it to my interview nice and early after all. Once there, I relaxed in my car for a few minutes and then decided to head into the office. I swung by the ladies room to touch up my lip gloss, and when I reached into my purse I made quite an entertaining discovery: a bright blue penis straw. Note to self: when taking the same purse to an interview that you took to a bachelorette party a couple of nights ago, be sure to give the contents a quick rummage before you leave the house. As it turned out, though, my rather inappropriate straw turned out to be my lucky charm.
I interviewed with three different people and at the end of the afternoon I sat down with the president of the company to debrief. Apparently it had gone well because he made me a job offer on the spot. What, you don’t want to meet with the team and debate and get back to me next month or perhaps the month after that? Excellent.
You might think that I’d be jumping for joy, but I’m still too surprised to really react. I have been hearing “no” for the past year and a half so I don’t even know how to respond to “yes”. At this point, I’m relieved more than anything; that being said, I’m not planning any parades just yet. In any other year, there is no way that an MBA would even consider this role. But it is this year and here I am. To be fair, this job is far superior to my BATNA (Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement) which is unemployment.
Another bonus? I am now a much more desirable candidate simply because someone else wants me. (Hmm, this sounds a lot like dating.) I had a couple of calls this week and the recruiters were much more responsive when I dropped the “I have another offer” card. All of a sudden, they can’t get me in for interviews quickly enough. To be continued folks...
I frantically tried to put on my shoes – not an easy task since I had decided to wear espadrilles. If I were a normal person, I would have just looped the ribbon around my ankle, tied it in a knot, and called it a day. Clearly, that's not my style. I had picked up my espadrilles in Madrid a few years back; while I was there I was delighted to discover that Calle Toledo was full of little stores that sold espadrilles for a fraction of the price that they retailed for back in the US, even with the dismal exchange rate. Of course, I went buck wild and picked up about half a dozen pairs of shoes. (Like you wouldn’t have done the same.) While I was stocking up on a lifetime’s worth of espadrilles, the store owner gave me an espadrille tying tutorial that I have never forgotten. His method results in a securely tied shoe that still allows blood circulation; however, his method is also a bit time intensive which is problematic when you’re already running late.
Now you might be wondering why I elected to wear espadrilles to a job interview. Um, because espadrilles completed my outfit. Let me clarify: I had explicitly been told that the office dress code was quite casual, and I had witnessed said casual dress code firsthand the week before at my first round interview. Therefore goodbye black wool suit and hello cute (but professional) summer dress and espadrilles.
As I was driving to my interview, I silently said a prayer of thanks that Chicago motorists seem to view speed limits as a helpful suggestion rather than a legal mandate. Despite massive amounts of construction, traffic continued to move, and I managed to make it to my interview nice and early after all. Once there, I relaxed in my car for a few minutes and then decided to head into the office. I swung by the ladies room to touch up my lip gloss, and when I reached into my purse I made quite an entertaining discovery: a bright blue penis straw. Note to self: when taking the same purse to an interview that you took to a bachelorette party a couple of nights ago, be sure to give the contents a quick rummage before you leave the house. As it turned out, though, my rather inappropriate straw turned out to be my lucky charm.
I interviewed with three different people and at the end of the afternoon I sat down with the president of the company to debrief. Apparently it had gone well because he made me a job offer on the spot. What, you don’t want to meet with the team and debate and get back to me next month or perhaps the month after that? Excellent.
You might think that I’d be jumping for joy, but I’m still too surprised to really react. I have been hearing “no” for the past year and a half so I don’t even know how to respond to “yes”. At this point, I’m relieved more than anything; that being said, I’m not planning any parades just yet. In any other year, there is no way that an MBA would even consider this role. But it is this year and here I am. To be fair, this job is far superior to my BATNA (Best Alternative to a Negotiated Agreement) which is unemployment.
Another bonus? I am now a much more desirable candidate simply because someone else wants me. (Hmm, this sounds a lot like dating.) I had a couple of calls this week and the recruiters were much more responsive when I dropped the “I have another offer” card. All of a sudden, they can’t get me in for interviews quickly enough. To be continued folks...
Friday, May 21, 2010
Smoke and Mirrors
Earlier this week, I had an interview in downtown Chicago. (See, I told you that I’ve interviewed in places other than NYC!) At this point, I have interviewed a number of times with a variety of companies; that experience has been minimally helpful as I have received virtually no feedback on my interview performance. In fact, the only comment that I was able to coax out of a recruiter was that I seemed “young”. Could you be more specific? Do I look young? Do I employ a younger vocabulary? Does my voice sound young?
Realizing that I can’t really do anything about the content portion of the interview – my experience is what it is – I decided to switch up my standard interview appearance. Hollywood, I’ve been paying attention: I know that you can transform a dowdy but smart librarian into a smokin’ hottie by simply getting rid of her glasses and replacing her bun with sex kitten waves. Logically then, the opposite should be true as well. If I wore my glasses and minimal eye make-up, then I should look like the ideal employee, right? I’d look both older and more intelligent!
Only one way to find out…
I ventured into a brave new world and actively chose to wear my glasses instead of contacts to my interview. It went against all of my instincts, but I sucked it up and put on my glasses like a big girl. (Let me clarify: I actually really like my glasses – I just generally dislike having something on my face. That’s what she said.) Anyway, you know what? I think it just might have worked.
I was scheduled to meet with three different people and to be at the office for about an hour and a half. In reality, I was interviewing at the office for almost three full hours. The good news was that it didn’t feel like I was there for three hours – the time went by quickly. Well, time went by quickly until my last interview when all of a sudden I realized that: 1) I was starving, and 2) I had a headache from wearing my glasses. I’ve certainly been through worse in interviews though so I pushed ahead and mentally reminded myself to keep my eye on the prize: employment.
Key takeaway: Maybe appearance IS everything.
Realizing that I can’t really do anything about the content portion of the interview – my experience is what it is – I decided to switch up my standard interview appearance. Hollywood, I’ve been paying attention: I know that you can transform a dowdy but smart librarian into a smokin’ hottie by simply getting rid of her glasses and replacing her bun with sex kitten waves. Logically then, the opposite should be true as well. If I wore my glasses and minimal eye make-up, then I should look like the ideal employee, right? I’d look both older and more intelligent!
Only one way to find out…
I ventured into a brave new world and actively chose to wear my glasses instead of contacts to my interview. It went against all of my instincts, but I sucked it up and put on my glasses like a big girl. (Let me clarify: I actually really like my glasses – I just generally dislike having something on my face. That’s what she said.) Anyway, you know what? I think it just might have worked.
I was scheduled to meet with three different people and to be at the office for about an hour and a half. In reality, I was interviewing at the office for almost three full hours. The good news was that it didn’t feel like I was there for three hours – the time went by quickly. Well, time went by quickly until my last interview when all of a sudden I realized that: 1) I was starving, and 2) I had a headache from wearing my glasses. I’ve certainly been through worse in interviews though so I pushed ahead and mentally reminded myself to keep my eye on the prize: employment.
Key takeaway: Maybe appearance IS everything.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Better Luck Next Time
Hello Candidate,
Thank you for the follow-up.
It was nice meeting you and I thank you for coming to [said location] to meet with us in person. At this time we will not be moving forward with your candidacy for the Assistant Marketing Manager position. We have selected a candidate who is more aligned with our specific needs.
Once again, thank you for your interest in our company and best wishes in your career search! Based on your experience and skills, we are sure that you will have no problem finding an exciting opportunity.
Regards,
Recruiter
Translation...
Yo Candidate,
Thank you for following up with us after we gave you a totally inaccurate decision timeline. By “week” we meant “month”.
We appreciate you traveling to our neck of the woods to meet with the marketing team in person, but at this point you are no longer a contender for the Assistant Marketing Manager position. We have selected a candidate who has shit tons more experience than you. Tough break kid.
Once again, thanks but no thanks. Based on your experience and skills, we are sure that you will have no problem finding an exciting opportunity cashiering at Walmart or serving up fries at McDonald’s.
Good luck sucker,
Recruiter
Thank you for the follow-up.
It was nice meeting you and I thank you for coming to [said location] to meet with us in person. At this time we will not be moving forward with your candidacy for the Assistant Marketing Manager position. We have selected a candidate who is more aligned with our specific needs.
Once again, thank you for your interest in our company and best wishes in your career search! Based on your experience and skills, we are sure that you will have no problem finding an exciting opportunity.
Regards,
Recruiter
Translation...
Yo Candidate,
Thank you for following up with us after we gave you a totally inaccurate decision timeline. By “week” we meant “month”.
We appreciate you traveling to our neck of the woods to meet with the marketing team in person, but at this point you are no longer a contender for the Assistant Marketing Manager position. We have selected a candidate who has shit tons more experience than you. Tough break kid.
Once again, thanks but no thanks. Based on your experience and skills, we are sure that you will have no problem finding an exciting opportunity cashiering at Walmart or serving up fries at McDonald’s.
Good luck sucker,
Recruiter
Thursday, May 13, 2010
The Move of Shame
Here’s a fun fact: when I graduated last summer, I left all of my stuff in storage in Vermont. I thought that I was going to be on the East Coast so why bother to move my stuff back to Chicago in the interim?
Let’s analyze exactly how this decision devolved from “smart choice” to “why is my crap still in the Green Mountain state?”
June 2009 – I thought that I had a job locked down out east. Sure, I didn’t technically have an offer but the CEO himself told me that he wanted to bring me on board. He just had to wait to hire my direct supervisor before making a formal offer; I was fine with that because it seemed logical enough. Well if you’ve been paying the slightest bit of attention to this blog, you know exactly how this played out: my offer disappeared to the land of unicorns and fairies, never to be heard from again.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank that CEO for being a total douche, though, because the job was in Bumblefuck, Virginia, and I would have hated life there. So thank you for making that decision for me.
Upon the implosion of my post-business school employment prospects, I headed to Mexico to drown my sorrows in tequila. About two weeks later, a bit worse for the wear, I returned to Chicago carrying only one large suitcase (primarily full of cotton sundresses).
December 2009 – Nearly six months had passed since graduation and I was still in Chicago and still looking for a job. However, one thing had definitely changed: the weather. Chicago gets quite cold in the winter and unfortunately for me, my winter wardrobe was being held hostage in Vermont. Always happy for an excuse to travel, I hopped on a plane and headed out east to collect my winter gear.
I showed up at my storage unit to grab my coats and – HOLY CRAP WHERE DID ALL OF THIS STUFF COME FROM? My belongings had apparently mated during that period; surely, there hadn’t been that much stuff when I originally put everything in storage back in June. No matter, this was a problem that UPS could handle. I packed what I could into the empty suitcases that I had brought with me and shipped all of my apparel and shoes back in boxes. Books, kitchen supplies, and other bulkier items were left in storage to be dealt with later (Future Me could figure it out). After all, I was going to find a job any day now! And that job might be on the East Coast.
May 2010 – Almost a year after graduation and I am still in Chicago and still looking for a job. Well fuck. I finally admit defeat in this game of cross country moving chicken and decide to drive out east to move the remainder of my belongings back to Chicago. In theory, my acquisition trip would have been a great excuse to hang out and party with the second year students but… BUT I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I was (a remixed female version of) That Guy. You know, the guy who still goes to high school parties and wears his letter jacket everywhere even though he graduated almost ten years ago? Yeah, That Guy.
Frankly I can’t help but feel like a failure of the MBA machine so I would generally prefer to avoid social interaction with bright-eyed students who are still excited about the career opportunities that await them. Trying to keep a low profile, I didn’t explicitly broadcast my visit. Anyone who knows me will instantly flag this action as being out of character – after all, I was the woman who celebrated a birth week, not content to make due with a mere birth day.
While the move was technically a success, it definitely felt like the move of shame. But you know what? It will just feel that much sweeter when I finally return to campus as a triumphantly employed alum. Plus I have virtually guaranteed myself employment out east by moving all of my stuff back to the Midwest.
Let’s analyze exactly how this decision devolved from “smart choice” to “why is my crap still in the Green Mountain state?”
June 2009 – I thought that I had a job locked down out east. Sure, I didn’t technically have an offer but the CEO himself told me that he wanted to bring me on board. He just had to wait to hire my direct supervisor before making a formal offer; I was fine with that because it seemed logical enough. Well if you’ve been paying the slightest bit of attention to this blog, you know exactly how this played out: my offer disappeared to the land of unicorns and fairies, never to be heard from again.
I would like to take this opportunity to thank that CEO for being a total douche, though, because the job was in Bumblefuck, Virginia, and I would have hated life there. So thank you for making that decision for me.
Upon the implosion of my post-business school employment prospects, I headed to Mexico to drown my sorrows in tequila. About two weeks later, a bit worse for the wear, I returned to Chicago carrying only one large suitcase (primarily full of cotton sundresses).
December 2009 – Nearly six months had passed since graduation and I was still in Chicago and still looking for a job. However, one thing had definitely changed: the weather. Chicago gets quite cold in the winter and unfortunately for me, my winter wardrobe was being held hostage in Vermont. Always happy for an excuse to travel, I hopped on a plane and headed out east to collect my winter gear.
I showed up at my storage unit to grab my coats and – HOLY CRAP WHERE DID ALL OF THIS STUFF COME FROM? My belongings had apparently mated during that period; surely, there hadn’t been that much stuff when I originally put everything in storage back in June. No matter, this was a problem that UPS could handle. I packed what I could into the empty suitcases that I had brought with me and shipped all of my apparel and shoes back in boxes. Books, kitchen supplies, and other bulkier items were left in storage to be dealt with later (Future Me could figure it out). After all, I was going to find a job any day now! And that job might be on the East Coast.
May 2010 – Almost a year after graduation and I am still in Chicago and still looking for a job. Well fuck. I finally admit defeat in this game of cross country moving chicken and decide to drive out east to move the remainder of my belongings back to Chicago. In theory, my acquisition trip would have been a great excuse to hang out and party with the second year students but… BUT I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I was (a remixed female version of) That Guy. You know, the guy who still goes to high school parties and wears his letter jacket everywhere even though he graduated almost ten years ago? Yeah, That Guy.
Frankly I can’t help but feel like a failure of the MBA machine so I would generally prefer to avoid social interaction with bright-eyed students who are still excited about the career opportunities that await them. Trying to keep a low profile, I didn’t explicitly broadcast my visit. Anyone who knows me will instantly flag this action as being out of character – after all, I was the woman who celebrated a birth week, not content to make due with a mere birth day.
While the move was technically a success, it definitely felt like the move of shame. But you know what? It will just feel that much sweeter when I finally return to campus as a triumphantly employed alum. Plus I have virtually guaranteed myself employment out east by moving all of my stuff back to the Midwest.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Can't Get No Satisfaction
Recently I have been struggling to stay motivated. I am accustomed to seeing a certain correlation between effort and outcome; the job search however operates with a completely different set of rules. I am constantly busy with recruiting activities – conference calls, networking emails, interviews – but the return on these efforts has been dismally low. If my RORI (Return on Recruiting Investment) represented a business opportunity, I wouldn’t touch it with a 10 foot stick.
My motivation may be slipping but that doesn’t mean that I’m any less focused on recruiting. Au contraire, the employment search is almost constantly on my mind. I’m like a man, except instead of thinking about sex every 10 seconds, I think about finding a job:
This is definitely the year. Go Cubs!
JOB…
Who sings the Ghostbusters song?
JOB…
Hot yoga is totally overrated.
JOB…
Medium or large coffee?
JOB…
Maybe I’ll be a (slutty) Morton Salt girl for Halloween.
JOB…
Wonder if I could get a good deal on a Greek vacation right now?
JOB…
This isn’t where I parked my car.
JOB…
JOB…
JOB…
My motivation may be slipping but that doesn’t mean that I’m any less focused on recruiting. Au contraire, the employment search is almost constantly on my mind. I’m like a man, except instead of thinking about sex every 10 seconds, I think about finding a job:
This is definitely the year. Go Cubs!
JOB…
Who sings the Ghostbusters song?
JOB…
Hot yoga is totally overrated.
JOB…
Medium or large coffee?
JOB…
Maybe I’ll be a (slutty) Morton Salt girl for Halloween.
JOB…
Wonder if I could get a good deal on a Greek vacation right now?
JOB…
This isn’t where I parked my car.
JOB…
JOB…
JOB…
Friday, April 30, 2010
By The Numbers
Current market value of an MBA from a top tier school: $0
Business school tuition: $140,000
Opportunity cost of foregone wages: $375,000
Desperately hoping that your pre-business school employer will take you back: priceless
Business school tuition: $140,000
Opportunity cost of foregone wages: $375,000
Desperately hoping that your pre-business school employer will take you back: priceless
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Let's Talk...
This is going to have to be brief because I am getting up early tomorrow to go to Napa. My life is hard. But I digress…
I’ve had a number of interviews over the past couple weeks and I have a few more still coming up. At this point, it is safe to say that I have extensive interview experience. Unfortunately, I apparently have extensive experience interviewing in a manner that does NOT get me hired. It’s like I learned how to drive in London and then tried to pass the driving test in Illinois, visibly confused about the whole “driving on the right” concept the entire time. What do you mean I didn’t pass?!
I was recently discussing my epic interview failure with one of my good friends and she offered advice that was stunning in both its simplicity and brilliance: approach the interview as a conversation. In theory, this is a great idea; instead of spouting off canned phrases and trite responses, just have a really great chat with your interviewer. In practice, however, interviews make me crazy nervous and I tend to default back to Formal McFormal Candidate. Is that me? No. Is that me in an interview? I plead da Fif’.
What I really need to do is freaking relax during interviews, and in order to feel relaxed, I need a receptive audience. Alas, interviewers cannot always be relied upon to be an enthusiastic crowd. This is unfortunate for me because I would like to secure employment sometime this century, and unfortunate for interviewers because I have some downright entertaining stories, some in fact that would even be appropriate to share in a professional environment.
Key takeaway: Continue to push the interview envelope. I’m not recommending that you dye your hair purple, but try to push past the tendency to default to certain behaviors during interviews. I promise that I’ll try to have an actual conversation at my next interview...
I’ve had a number of interviews over the past couple weeks and I have a few more still coming up. At this point, it is safe to say that I have extensive interview experience. Unfortunately, I apparently have extensive experience interviewing in a manner that does NOT get me hired. It’s like I learned how to drive in London and then tried to pass the driving test in Illinois, visibly confused about the whole “driving on the right” concept the entire time. What do you mean I didn’t pass?!
I was recently discussing my epic interview failure with one of my good friends and she offered advice that was stunning in both its simplicity and brilliance: approach the interview as a conversation. In theory, this is a great idea; instead of spouting off canned phrases and trite responses, just have a really great chat with your interviewer. In practice, however, interviews make me crazy nervous and I tend to default back to Formal McFormal Candidate. Is that me? No. Is that me in an interview? I plead da Fif’.
What I really need to do is freaking relax during interviews, and in order to feel relaxed, I need a receptive audience. Alas, interviewers cannot always be relied upon to be an enthusiastic crowd. This is unfortunate for me because I would like to secure employment sometime this century, and unfortunate for interviewers because I have some downright entertaining stories, some in fact that would even be appropriate to share in a professional environment.
Key takeaway: Continue to push the interview envelope. I’m not recommending that you dye your hair purple, but try to push past the tendency to default to certain behaviors during interviews. I promise that I’ll try to have an actual conversation at my next interview...
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
WACC-ing Off
Still wondering what sort of skill set trading develops? I present to you Trading, Overnight Edition.
11:35pm – Arrive at the office
11:39pm – Read over the daily trade report
11:41am – Sign into the trading system
11:44pm – Adjust volatility skews
11:52pm – A co-worker walks into the office, announcing his presence with a loud belch
11:53pm – The same co-worker turns to me and asks “hey, was that me or you?”
12:10am – We turn on Conan
12:29am – Order food from Chicago’s Pizza, the only place still delivering to the Loop after midnight
12:31am – Trader B offers to make a beverage run. (Please note that there were two soda machines in the office, each offering a different selection of sodas. The first soda machine was near our trading desk; the other one was across the office.)
Trader M: You going deep?
Trader B (quietly): Nah, just the tip
Me: You know I can still hear you, right?
1:15am – The food arrives and we dine like kings, assuming that kings eat massive quantities of chicken caesar wraps and Kettle potato chips
1:27am – Trader B returns from the bathroom looking concerned. “There’s a bottle of lotion in one of the stalls in the men’s room” he announces
2:19am – We click through my company’s recently updated website and discover something delightful: a photo in which one of our pit traders appears to be arbing hamburger. (His right hand was curled into a C, with just enough space between the thumb and fingers to fit a tasty burger.)
3:07am – On the screen some dude keeps posting and then pulling an offer. Were futures to go bid, this would be a juicy offer
3:08am – I start working futures against the offer
3:31am – Trader M is getting visibly irritated at the cat and mouse game on the screen
3:33am – The juicy offer is posted for the eleventy-seventh time
3:34am – Trader M stares at the screen, mutters “fuck this guy”, and lifts the offer
3:35am – We continue to work futures
4:37am – We finally get filled on our futures
5:14am – Send out the overnight report to the day traders
6:20am – The day traders begin to straggle into the office
6:57am – Wait for a lull in trading activity and then quickly log out of the trading system
6:59am – The pit traders exit the office en mass and head over to the Board of Trade
7:05am – My boss arrives
7:12am – One of the pit traders limps into the office
Trader L: What are you doing here? Aren’t you on the floor today?
Trader J: Actually, I’m going to be trading on the screen for the next few days. I got hit by a trolley yesterday and I’m still really sore.
Trader L: You got hit by a trolley?!
Trader J: Yeah, I got hit by a trolley walking back to the office from the Board of Trade yesterday afternoon.
Trader L: Let me get this straight. As a pedestrian, you managed to get hit by a vehicle that carts around tourists by day and serves as a party bus by night?
Trader J: Yeah.
Trader L: Priceless.
7:16am – I receive an email from Trader L. The subject is “Karma” and the body of the email is blank
7:20am – The opening bell rings
7:25am – My boss props up his right foot up on the desk and sighs
Boss: I think I have gout foot.
Me: Excuse me?
Boss: My foot really hurts. I think it’s gout.
Me: In your foot? I’m no doctor, but I really don’t think that’s possible.
Boss: But what else could it be?
Me: Um, just about anything. Are you sure that you didn’t just twist your ankle? Have you seen a doctor?
Boss: No, but you know what? I could call my mom – she’s a nurse.
7:27am – My boss calls his mother and shares his diagnosis. Her response? “You’re an idiot.”
7:50am – I head home for the day
11:35pm – Arrive at the office
11:39pm – Read over the daily trade report
11:41am – Sign into the trading system
11:44pm – Adjust volatility skews
11:52pm – A co-worker walks into the office, announcing his presence with a loud belch
11:53pm – The same co-worker turns to me and asks “hey, was that me or you?”
12:10am – We turn on Conan
12:29am – Order food from Chicago’s Pizza, the only place still delivering to the Loop after midnight
12:31am – Trader B offers to make a beverage run. (Please note that there were two soda machines in the office, each offering a different selection of sodas. The first soda machine was near our trading desk; the other one was across the office.)
Trader M: You going deep?
Trader B (quietly): Nah, just the tip
Me: You know I can still hear you, right?
1:15am – The food arrives and we dine like kings, assuming that kings eat massive quantities of chicken caesar wraps and Kettle potato chips
1:27am – Trader B returns from the bathroom looking concerned. “There’s a bottle of lotion in one of the stalls in the men’s room” he announces
2:19am – We click through my company’s recently updated website and discover something delightful: a photo in which one of our pit traders appears to be arbing hamburger. (His right hand was curled into a C, with just enough space between the thumb and fingers to fit a tasty burger.)
3:07am – On the screen some dude keeps posting and then pulling an offer. Were futures to go bid, this would be a juicy offer
3:08am – I start working futures against the offer
3:31am – Trader M is getting visibly irritated at the cat and mouse game on the screen
3:33am – The juicy offer is posted for the eleventy-seventh time
3:34am – Trader M stares at the screen, mutters “fuck this guy”, and lifts the offer
3:35am – We continue to work futures
4:37am – We finally get filled on our futures
5:14am – Send out the overnight report to the day traders
6:20am – The day traders begin to straggle into the office
6:57am – Wait for a lull in trading activity and then quickly log out of the trading system
6:59am – The pit traders exit the office en mass and head over to the Board of Trade
7:05am – My boss arrives
7:12am – One of the pit traders limps into the office
Trader L: What are you doing here? Aren’t you on the floor today?
Trader J: Actually, I’m going to be trading on the screen for the next few days. I got hit by a trolley yesterday and I’m still really sore.
Trader L: You got hit by a trolley?!
Trader J: Yeah, I got hit by a trolley walking back to the office from the Board of Trade yesterday afternoon.
Trader L: Let me get this straight. As a pedestrian, you managed to get hit by a vehicle that carts around tourists by day and serves as a party bus by night?
Trader J: Yeah.
Trader L: Priceless.
7:16am – I receive an email from Trader L. The subject is “Karma” and the body of the email is blank
7:20am – The opening bell rings
7:25am – My boss props up his right foot up on the desk and sighs
Boss: I think I have gout foot.
Me: Excuse me?
Boss: My foot really hurts. I think it’s gout.
Me: In your foot? I’m no doctor, but I really don’t think that’s possible.
Boss: But what else could it be?
Me: Um, just about anything. Are you sure that you didn’t just twist your ankle? Have you seen a doctor?
Boss: No, but you know what? I could call my mom – she’s a nurse.
7:27am – My boss calls his mother and shares his diagnosis. Her response? “You’re an idiot.”
7:50am – I head home for the day
Thursday, April 8, 2010
No, Thank You
It's been a slow week - on the blogging front that is, not on the recruiting front. Ironically, I have more time to write about recruiting when I'm not busy with actual recruiting.
Having a lot of interviews is a good thing. That being said, there is one big downside: having to write many MANY thank you notes. I detest writing thank you notes, not because I am an ill-mannered urchin, but rather because this task is a huge time suck that will not result in a job. Let's face it, no one has ever landed a job because of a kick ass thank you note (despite what books or your school's career development office may tell you). In reality, the thank you note is one final test: can this candidate manage to promptly send a brief but articulate note that is free from error?
No matter what I actually write in the body of the email, I am expressing the same point every time. Namely: "Dear Good Sir or Madam, please hire me. Love, Me"
So hiring managers, can we make a deal? Let's cut the crap and banish the whole archaic thank you note practice. It was fine back in the day when you interviewed for one (maybe two) jobs but today it is more like one of those wacky laws that no one ever got around to repealing (it is illegal, I repeat illegal, for a driver to be blind-folded while operating a vehicle).
Read between the lines: by accepting your invitation to interview onsite, I am implying that 1) I am sufficiently interested in your company to block out two full days in my schedule (one for travel and one for interviews), and 2) I am taking the time to engage in significant interview prep so as to come across as the competent and talented human being that I am. The thank you note is the recruiting equivalent of the last 0.2 mile of a marathon: painful and unnecessary. Running an even 26 miles is quite respectable and impressive so why continue on with this 26.2 miles nonsense? What I’m saying is that I am very appreciative of the opportunity to interview with your company, but would you please let me skip the thank you note pony show?
Having a lot of interviews is a good thing. That being said, there is one big downside: having to write many MANY thank you notes. I detest writing thank you notes, not because I am an ill-mannered urchin, but rather because this task is a huge time suck that will not result in a job. Let's face it, no one has ever landed a job because of a kick ass thank you note (despite what books or your school's career development office may tell you). In reality, the thank you note is one final test: can this candidate manage to promptly send a brief but articulate note that is free from error?
No matter what I actually write in the body of the email, I am expressing the same point every time. Namely: "Dear Good Sir or Madam, please hire me. Love, Me"
So hiring managers, can we make a deal? Let's cut the crap and banish the whole archaic thank you note practice. It was fine back in the day when you interviewed for one (maybe two) jobs but today it is more like one of those wacky laws that no one ever got around to repealing (it is illegal, I repeat illegal, for a driver to be blind-folded while operating a vehicle).
Read between the lines: by accepting your invitation to interview onsite, I am implying that 1) I am sufficiently interested in your company to block out two full days in my schedule (one for travel and one for interviews), and 2) I am taking the time to engage in significant interview prep so as to come across as the competent and talented human being that I am. The thank you note is the recruiting equivalent of the last 0.2 mile of a marathon: painful and unnecessary. Running an even 26 miles is quite respectable and impressive so why continue on with this 26.2 miles nonsense? What I’m saying is that I am very appreciative of the opportunity to interview with your company, but would you please let me skip the thank you note pony show?
Monday, April 5, 2010
Grasping at Straws
I recently heard a radio ad for something quite unusual: employment. Apparently the City of Chicago needs more census workers to poll residents in Englewood. Can’t imagine why it would be a challenge to fill those positions. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that when I started typing “Englewood” into the Google search bar, the first suggested option was “Englewood Chicago crime”? Regardless, I am tired of negative economic updates so high five for ANY sort of positive employment news.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
B-school Celebrity Sighting
I was enjoying an usually beautiful spring day in NYC after wrapping up an interview. I decided to reward myself for a job well done by grabbing a coffee and relaxing on one of the benches outside the building. I sat down and contemplated life’s big questions. For instance, what in the world was I going to wear later that night? I started to mentally sort through the contents of my suitcase and I had narrowed the selection down to two dresses when it happened. A very familiar looking man was walking across the courtyard, and with a quick thrill, I realized who it was: the CEO of the company! I recognized him from the annual report.
Did I go up to him, introduce myself, and get a job offer on the spot? Of course not. I mean, what would I say? Besides, he was walking really quickly – there was no way that I was going to catch him hampered as I was by my heels.
An event of this magnitude demanded to be shared immediately so I grabbed my phone and called my mom. “You’ll never believe what just happened!” I exuded as I relayed the story of my celebrity sighting. As it turned out, she did believe it.
Key takeaway: Expect the unexpected. Wait no, that was the motto of my senior class in high school. Wear shoes that you can hustle in.
Did I go up to him, introduce myself, and get a job offer on the spot? Of course not. I mean, what would I say? Besides, he was walking really quickly – there was no way that I was going to catch him hampered as I was by my heels.
An event of this magnitude demanded to be shared immediately so I grabbed my phone and called my mom. “You’ll never believe what just happened!” I exuded as I relayed the story of my celebrity sighting. As it turned out, she did believe it.
Key takeaway: Expect the unexpected. Wait no, that was the motto of my senior class in high school. Wear shoes that you can hustle in.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Top 6.5 Reasons Why Being Unemployed Sucks
#6 No outlet for my competitive streak
My motivation to excel is still present even if it can’t be applied in a professional environment. I have been venting my aggression in hilariously inappropriate outlets. For instance, I recently caught myself looking around the room in yoga class and thinking “Ha, my crescent lunge is the deepest! Suck on that people!” I need to freaking relax.
#5 Realizing that there is no parachute
I already went back to school so I can’t bide my time in academia waiting for an economic recovery unless I pursue a PhD. But now that I think about it, maybe that isn’t such a bad idea after all. I should just Ponzi scheme my student loans and settle in for the long haul.
#4 No set schedule
I am a creature of habit and since employment isn’t lending structure to my days, I am forced to create my own. I attend classes at the gym Monday through Friday as a way to arrange my days in an orderly manner. Having a gym schedule also forces me to change out of my PJs; left to my own devices, I would simply email and conference call away in a T-shirt and sweatpants all day every day.
#3 Being supported by my parents
Moving back in with your parents at the tender age of 29? Now that’s a blow to the ego. For crying out loud, even in high school I had a part-time job.
#2 Awkward small talk
When you first meet someone in the US, you ask two questions:
1) What is your name?
2) What do you do?
Let me tell you, unemployed folks hate fielding the second one. Do you confess your unemployed status and make a dry comment implying that unemployment is actually quite entertaining? Do you coyly respond with a question of your own – what do YOU think I do? There is no good answer to this ticking time bomb of a question.
#1.5 Visa issues
Recruiting is stressful enough as it is, but it’s even worse when you have the additional pressure of finding a job before your visa runs out. As an American citizen looking for a job in the US, I don’t have to deal with this issue; I have the luxury of time. Not all of my classmates can say the same, and I can only imagine the heightened level of anxiety that immigration issues must induce.
#1 Feeling powerless to change the situation
I did everything right: I went to good schools, enjoyed professional success, and yet now I’ve completely stalled out. An MBA was supposed to help my career, not end it.
My motivation to excel is still present even if it can’t be applied in a professional environment. I have been venting my aggression in hilariously inappropriate outlets. For instance, I recently caught myself looking around the room in yoga class and thinking “Ha, my crescent lunge is the deepest! Suck on that people!” I need to freaking relax.
#5 Realizing that there is no parachute
I already went back to school so I can’t bide my time in academia waiting for an economic recovery unless I pursue a PhD. But now that I think about it, maybe that isn’t such a bad idea after all. I should just Ponzi scheme my student loans and settle in for the long haul.
#4 No set schedule
I am a creature of habit and since employment isn’t lending structure to my days, I am forced to create my own. I attend classes at the gym Monday through Friday as a way to arrange my days in an orderly manner. Having a gym schedule also forces me to change out of my PJs; left to my own devices, I would simply email and conference call away in a T-shirt and sweatpants all day every day.
#3 Being supported by my parents
Moving back in with your parents at the tender age of 29? Now that’s a blow to the ego. For crying out loud, even in high school I had a part-time job.
#2 Awkward small talk
When you first meet someone in the US, you ask two questions:
1) What is your name?
2) What do you do?
Let me tell you, unemployed folks hate fielding the second one. Do you confess your unemployed status and make a dry comment implying that unemployment is actually quite entertaining? Do you coyly respond with a question of your own – what do YOU think I do? There is no good answer to this ticking time bomb of a question.
#1.5 Visa issues
Recruiting is stressful enough as it is, but it’s even worse when you have the additional pressure of finding a job before your visa runs out. As an American citizen looking for a job in the US, I don’t have to deal with this issue; I have the luxury of time. Not all of my classmates can say the same, and I can only imagine the heightened level of anxiety that immigration issues must induce.
#1 Feeling powerless to change the situation
I did everything right: I went to good schools, enjoyed professional success, and yet now I’ve completely stalled out. An MBA was supposed to help my career, not end it.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
NYC Pulls a Fast One on Me (AGAIN)
Here’s a fun little recruiting story from the archives of 2009...
I was on a conference call with an alum who worked at a CPG company in NYC* (nope, not Colgate). We were having a good conversation and he mentioned that he would be happy to set up a meeting if I was ever in the city. Up until that moment, I had no immediate plans to visit NYC but – how funny is this – all of a sudden I found myself saying “Well fancy that! I was actually planning to visit NYC next week.” And just like that, I had set up an informal interview for myself. Well done me.
Flash forward to that next week. I was suited up and ready to discuss my burning passion for marketing. I threw a map of NYC into my purse and headed out the door. I took the subway without incident and got off at a stop near the office. I walked down the street… and then paused in confusion several blocks later. The building I was looking for apparently did not exist. The building immediately in front of me was #20 and the next building over was #24. Where in the world was #22?
I did another lap around the block and confirmed my suspicion that building #22 indeed did not exist. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME. Was this part of the interview process? Sure you can interview with us but you have to find us first - only MacGyvers need apply.
Thinking quickly, I called up one of my friends from business school. Bless her sweet little heart, she picked up on the second ring. “Hey, how did your interview go?” she asked brightly. “Um, about that… the address that the recruiter gave me is a figment of his imagination. I do know that the office supposed to be in the [specific building] though. Any idea where that is?” Glory be, she did know! As a matter of fact, she had interned in that building over the summer. Way to call the right person.
Armed with accurate information (the address was #122 – the company had dropped the handle), I made it to my interview on time. It went well but (like every other company) they were on a temporary hiring freeze. Sigh, story of my life.
Key takeaway: Don’t trust the address that a company gives you. Locate it on Google Maps ahead of time.
*For some reason, all of my recruiting stories have been about interviews in the NYC area but I swear, I have actually interviewed elsewhere. Stay tuned for those installments…
I was on a conference call with an alum who worked at a CPG company in NYC* (nope, not Colgate). We were having a good conversation and he mentioned that he would be happy to set up a meeting if I was ever in the city. Up until that moment, I had no immediate plans to visit NYC but – how funny is this – all of a sudden I found myself saying “Well fancy that! I was actually planning to visit NYC next week.” And just like that, I had set up an informal interview for myself. Well done me.
Flash forward to that next week. I was suited up and ready to discuss my burning passion for marketing. I threw a map of NYC into my purse and headed out the door. I took the subway without incident and got off at a stop near the office. I walked down the street… and then paused in confusion several blocks later. The building I was looking for apparently did not exist. The building immediately in front of me was #20 and the next building over was #24. Where in the world was #22?
I did another lap around the block and confirmed my suspicion that building #22 indeed did not exist. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME. Was this part of the interview process? Sure you can interview with us but you have to find us first - only MacGyvers need apply.
Thinking quickly, I called up one of my friends from business school. Bless her sweet little heart, she picked up on the second ring. “Hey, how did your interview go?” she asked brightly. “Um, about that… the address that the recruiter gave me is a figment of his imagination. I do know that the office supposed to be in the [specific building] though. Any idea where that is?” Glory be, she did know! As a matter of fact, she had interned in that building over the summer. Way to call the right person.
Armed with accurate information (the address was #122 – the company had dropped the handle), I made it to my interview on time. It went well but (like every other company) they were on a temporary hiring freeze. Sigh, story of my life.
Key takeaway: Don’t trust the address that a company gives you. Locate it on Google Maps ahead of time.
*For some reason, all of my recruiting stories have been about interviews in the NYC area but I swear, I have actually interviewed elsewhere. Stay tuned for those installments…
Monday, March 22, 2010
Ode to a Dry Cleaner
Over the past year, I have spent a small fortune on dry cleaning. See that’s the thing about interviewing: you have to wear a suit. Even as a frequent customer, I remain baffled by the entire dry cleaning process; I understand neither the pricing structure nor garment turnaround times. One week I will drop off a bundle of clothing that consists of a suit and a couple of dresses, and the bill will be $28. A few weeks later, I will leave a similar (but not identical) bundle and my total will be $42. Huh? Despite my frustration, I accepted the black box nature of dry cleaning as a necessary evil. That was before I discovered CD One Price Cleaners.
This company is not only saving me from dry cleaning hell, but upon further inspection, CD One Price Cleaners has a really effective business model. What, you want me to tell you more? Happy to oblige…
Marketing:
Simplicity is the key marketing message. Signage throughout the store informs customers that it costs $2.49 to dry clean a single garment. The pricing structure is uniform; it is not complicated by factors such as type of garment, material, or whether the item is an article of men’s or women’s clothing. CD One Price Cleaners successfully eliminates a major point of consumer pain: confusion surrounding the price of dry cleaning. No more unpleasant surprises when it comes time to pay the bill.
Finance:
CD One Price Cleaners requires payment up front and accepts only cash and checks. You could make the argument that they may be losing business by not accepting credit or debit cards, but it is also true that they are minimizing their exposure as a merchant to consumer fraud. More importantly, by requiring customers to pay at drop-off rather than at pick-up, they are fully realizing the time value of money.
Operations:
CD One Price Cleaners dry cleans and launders all garments on site, thereby decreasing costs and turnaround times. Most dry cleaners are small businesses that outsource the actual cleaning to another vendor; as a result, they must pay the vendor to clean the clothing and wait for the garments to be delivered, cleaned, and returned. CD One Price Cleaners literally takes out the middleman. The obvious implication is that start-up costs will be higher for CD One Price Cleaners since they have to build a plant on site; however, over time they should be able to capture market share from the competition by charging lower prices and providing superior service.
CD One Price Cleaners even gets the small operational details right. On my first visit, I filled out the new customer form and returned it to the clerk who then had to process it. Instead of just letting me stand around, the clerk pointed out the coffee bar and encouraged me to grab a cup of joe. The clerk had already processed my information and sorted my items by the time that I finished pouring myself a cup of coffee and adding an unhealthy amount of cream and Splenda. Way to keep me busy and transform my wait time into a positive experience.
CD One Price Cleaners, I would be long you if only you were public.
This company is not only saving me from dry cleaning hell, but upon further inspection, CD One Price Cleaners has a really effective business model. What, you want me to tell you more? Happy to oblige…
Marketing:
Simplicity is the key marketing message. Signage throughout the store informs customers that it costs $2.49 to dry clean a single garment. The pricing structure is uniform; it is not complicated by factors such as type of garment, material, or whether the item is an article of men’s or women’s clothing. CD One Price Cleaners successfully eliminates a major point of consumer pain: confusion surrounding the price of dry cleaning. No more unpleasant surprises when it comes time to pay the bill.
Finance:
CD One Price Cleaners requires payment up front and accepts only cash and checks. You could make the argument that they may be losing business by not accepting credit or debit cards, but it is also true that they are minimizing their exposure as a merchant to consumer fraud. More importantly, by requiring customers to pay at drop-off rather than at pick-up, they are fully realizing the time value of money.
Operations:
CD One Price Cleaners dry cleans and launders all garments on site, thereby decreasing costs and turnaround times. Most dry cleaners are small businesses that outsource the actual cleaning to another vendor; as a result, they must pay the vendor to clean the clothing and wait for the garments to be delivered, cleaned, and returned. CD One Price Cleaners literally takes out the middleman. The obvious implication is that start-up costs will be higher for CD One Price Cleaners since they have to build a plant on site; however, over time they should be able to capture market share from the competition by charging lower prices and providing superior service.
CD One Price Cleaners even gets the small operational details right. On my first visit, I filled out the new customer form and returned it to the clerk who then had to process it. Instead of just letting me stand around, the clerk pointed out the coffee bar and encouraged me to grab a cup of joe. The clerk had already processed my information and sorted my items by the time that I finished pouring myself a cup of coffee and adding an unhealthy amount of cream and Splenda. Way to keep me busy and transform my wait time into a positive experience.
CD One Price Cleaners, I would be long you if only you were public.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
FML: Phone Interview Edition
I did mad interview prep for a phone interview last week. I read the careers section of the company’s website. I read the relevant portions of the most recent annual report. I caught up on macro-level industry developments. I had a 30 minute call with a classmate at the company. I typed up several pages of notes explicitly detailing why I was interested in working for that company in that particular role. Did I do this because it was fun? No, I did it because mama needs a job.
Things I would rather do include:
1) Read only the war sections of War and Peace
2) Joy ride public transportation
3) Build revenue management models
But I took one for the team, the team of course being me.
Finally 2:00PM rolled around. Showtime muppets! I wait for the hiring manager to call me as scheduled.
2:07PM – Still waiting. Maybe he’s on another call that ran late?
2:15PM – Still silence on my end. See, this is why I prefer to do the calling.
2:22PM – Good Lord, this is worse than waiting for a guy to call. The same truism appears to hold: my watched phone does not ring. Glad to see that my time is appreciated and valued.
2:23PM – Ok, time to take matters into my own hands. I call the recruiter to check in. She apologizes and tracks down the hiring manager to see what happened. She calls me back a few minutes later to let me know that the hiring manager will be calling me in a couple of minutes.
2:25PM – The phone rings at last! I pick up and the hiring manager informs me that he was in a meeting that ran late and oh yeah, he has a call at 2:30PM. So our call is going to be briefer than a pair of Calvin Kleins.
2:27PM – This interview is already an unmitigated disaster. The hiring manager is not digging my background and he is wondering aloud why I don’t already have a job. Dude, you and me both buddy.
2:31PM – I ask what I think is an insightful question regarding the increasingly important role of partnerships within the industry. The hiring manager is not impressed. In fact, I think I actually hear him smack his forehead. His enlightening response? “Yeah we have some partnerships.” Thanks for the clarification.
2:33PM – The hiring manager announces that he has to run and hangs up.
FML. I can’t believe I just did 3 hours worth of interview prep for a 10 minute call.
Key takeaway: Some hiring managers are just douchebags.
Things I would rather do include:
1) Read only the war sections of War and Peace
2) Joy ride public transportation
3) Build revenue management models
But I took one for the team, the team of course being me.
Finally 2:00PM rolled around. Showtime muppets! I wait for the hiring manager to call me as scheduled.
2:07PM – Still waiting. Maybe he’s on another call that ran late?
2:15PM – Still silence on my end. See, this is why I prefer to do the calling.
2:22PM – Good Lord, this is worse than waiting for a guy to call. The same truism appears to hold: my watched phone does not ring. Glad to see that my time is appreciated and valued.
2:23PM – Ok, time to take matters into my own hands. I call the recruiter to check in. She apologizes and tracks down the hiring manager to see what happened. She calls me back a few minutes later to let me know that the hiring manager will be calling me in a couple of minutes.
2:25PM – The phone rings at last! I pick up and the hiring manager informs me that he was in a meeting that ran late and oh yeah, he has a call at 2:30PM. So our call is going to be briefer than a pair of Calvin Kleins.
2:27PM – This interview is already an unmitigated disaster. The hiring manager is not digging my background and he is wondering aloud why I don’t already have a job. Dude, you and me both buddy.
2:31PM – I ask what I think is an insightful question regarding the increasingly important role of partnerships within the industry. The hiring manager is not impressed. In fact, I think I actually hear him smack his forehead. His enlightening response? “Yeah we have some partnerships.” Thanks for the clarification.
2:33PM – The hiring manager announces that he has to run and hangs up.
FML. I can’t believe I just did 3 hours worth of interview prep for a 10 minute call.
Key takeaway: Some hiring managers are just douchebags.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
How Is This Bozo Employed?
“How is this bozo employed” has recently become my new favorite game. Here’s how it works: you witness an act of stupidity performed by someone who is employed and then you wave your hands dramatically and exclaim “HOW IS THIS BOZO EMPLOYED?!” Let me emphasize that said idiocy must be carried out by someone who is gainfully employed; in fact, this is a key point because otherwise the game becomes “who is this bozo?” which is not nearly as entertaining.
I like this game because you can play it anywhere.
Example 1: You can play in the car!
Every time that I listen to FM radio in Chicago, I find myself asking “how is this bozo employed?” I don’t know if Chicago DJs are a special breed of moron or it's just a general occupational hazard, but it drives me bananas that not only are these people employed, but they are paid to publicly share their dim-witted thoughts. Recent morning show topics include Sticky Situations Involving a Mystery Toothbrush and Crank Calling Hypnotists – and those are some of the more cerebral examples. Really? Here’s an idea: why don’t you pay me to mouth off instead?
Example 2: You can play in the bar!
I am quick to make judgments when I make the acquaintance of a young professional in a bar. With cocktails facilitating the conversation, it usually isn’t too long before I am wondering “how is this bozo employed?” The discussion will almost always end on the same note: me informing my new banking executive BFF that I would probably be way better at his job than he is. (Note to the single ladies: this is NOT an effective way to pick up men.)
Example 3: You can play while eavesdropping!
Anyone who lives in a city can relate to this example. You’re on the train and the woman sitting next to you is yapping away into her cell phone. Her side of the conversation goes something like this:
“So today was like totally crazy at work. Ryan was flirting with me non-stop but I was all like leave me alone because I have work to do. [Pause] No, that’s Tim. I’d let him flirt with me on the clock… in fact, I’d let him do a lot of things to me on the clock. Definitely not Ryan though. He’s just not my type. Anywaaaaay then I had to take some clients out to lunch and it was sooooo boring. I wanted to go to that new place that just opened but my boss insisted that I take the group to this Japanese restaurant right by the office and I got stuck eating a bunch of mediocre spicy tuna rolls. At least I got to expense it. OMGgottarunthisismystop! Byeeeeeeee!”
Say it with me… “How is this bozo employed?”
I like this game because you can play it anywhere.
Example 1: You can play in the car!
Every time that I listen to FM radio in Chicago, I find myself asking “how is this bozo employed?” I don’t know if Chicago DJs are a special breed of moron or it's just a general occupational hazard, but it drives me bananas that not only are these people employed, but they are paid to publicly share their dim-witted thoughts. Recent morning show topics include Sticky Situations Involving a Mystery Toothbrush and Crank Calling Hypnotists – and those are some of the more cerebral examples. Really? Here’s an idea: why don’t you pay me to mouth off instead?
Example 2: You can play in the bar!
I am quick to make judgments when I make the acquaintance of a young professional in a bar. With cocktails facilitating the conversation, it usually isn’t too long before I am wondering “how is this bozo employed?” The discussion will almost always end on the same note: me informing my new banking executive BFF that I would probably be way better at his job than he is. (Note to the single ladies: this is NOT an effective way to pick up men.)
Example 3: You can play while eavesdropping!
Anyone who lives in a city can relate to this example. You’re on the train and the woman sitting next to you is yapping away into her cell phone. Her side of the conversation goes something like this:
“So today was like totally crazy at work. Ryan was flirting with me non-stop but I was all like leave me alone because I have work to do. [Pause] No, that’s Tim. I’d let him flirt with me on the clock… in fact, I’d let him do a lot of things to me on the clock. Definitely not Ryan though. He’s just not my type. Anywaaaaay then I had to take some clients out to lunch and it was sooooo boring. I wanted to go to that new place that just opened but my boss insisted that I take the group to this Japanese restaurant right by the office and I got stuck eating a bunch of mediocre spicy tuna rolls. At least I got to expense it. OMGgottarunthisismystop! Byeeeeeeee!”
Say it with me… “How is this bozo employed?”
Monday, March 15, 2010
Enough About You, More About Me
You’d think that I would be a natural at interviewing. I mean, it’s the perfect set-up for an only child: just talk about yourself for 30-60 minutes straight! Cake. Unfortunately, recruiters and I tend to take divergent views on what constitutes an interesting topic of conversation. I like talking about Twilight and Mexican food; recruiters enjoy discussing my academic background and my professional work experience. BORING. If I had my way, interviews would be a lot more entertaining…
Q: Tell me about yourself.
A: I’m an Aquarius and I think that my mom is the coolest. My choices in footwear often render walking a near impossible task. My mastery of the French language both begins and ends with the sentence “Je voudrais un crepe avec nutella s’il vous plait” (I would like a crepe with Nutella please) – incidentally, this is a supremely useful phrase to know. Don Draper is my ideal husband (minus the rampant cheating). I can run train on bacon. I am a magnet for parking tickets. I have a gargoyle fixation that began in college. And oh yeah, I have mad marketing skillz.
Q: Describe your weaknesses. How do you compensate for them?
A: I’m extremely narcissistic but why would I want to compensate for that? A healthy dose of self-confidence never hurt anyone. I’m also overly competitive but I manage my competitive streak by only participating in contests where I am virtually guaranteed victory.
Q: Describe your leadership style.
A: I tend to employ the directive style of leadership. What this means is that I like to tell other people what to do.
Q: Where do you see yourself in 10 years?
A: I play the lottery every week, using a proprietary algorithm to select the numbers. In about three years, I’m finally going to hit it big at which time I will take out a full page ad in the Wall Street Journal proclaiming “In Your Face MIT Blackjack Team”. I plan to use my winnings to purchase a farm just outside of Madrid where I will begin building my goat cheese empire. In my spare time, I will draft a proposal for a radio show named “Hit It or Quit It." I will co-host with one of my friends and the show will be broadcast on NPR.
Q: Are you comfortable with ambiguity?
A: Sure.
Q: How do you evaluate success?
A: In U.S. dollars.
Q: What approach do you take in getting people to accept your ideas?
A: Bribery is a pretty effective way to get people to do what you want. And if the ol’ carrot doesn’t work, go with the blackmail stick.
Q: Tell me about a time when you took the initiative on something.
A: I couldn’t figure out how to reposition our brand so I suggested that we call McKinsey. It was expensive but they made a really awesome deck for us.
Q: Tell me about a time when you were working on a team and there was a conflict.
A: Conflict only exists if you acknowledge it so I just ignore the problem. The situation will eventually work itself out and in the meantime I don’t have to deal with all that stress. Win-win!
Q: Tell me about yourself.
A: I’m an Aquarius and I think that my mom is the coolest. My choices in footwear often render walking a near impossible task. My mastery of the French language both begins and ends with the sentence “Je voudrais un crepe avec nutella s’il vous plait” (I would like a crepe with Nutella please) – incidentally, this is a supremely useful phrase to know. Don Draper is my ideal husband (minus the rampant cheating). I can run train on bacon. I am a magnet for parking tickets. I have a gargoyle fixation that began in college. And oh yeah, I have mad marketing skillz.
Q: Describe your weaknesses. How do you compensate for them?
A: I’m extremely narcissistic but why would I want to compensate for that? A healthy dose of self-confidence never hurt anyone. I’m also overly competitive but I manage my competitive streak by only participating in contests where I am virtually guaranteed victory.
Q: Describe your leadership style.
A: I tend to employ the directive style of leadership. What this means is that I like to tell other people what to do.
Q: Where do you see yourself in 10 years?
A: I play the lottery every week, using a proprietary algorithm to select the numbers. In about three years, I’m finally going to hit it big at which time I will take out a full page ad in the Wall Street Journal proclaiming “In Your Face MIT Blackjack Team”. I plan to use my winnings to purchase a farm just outside of Madrid where I will begin building my goat cheese empire. In my spare time, I will draft a proposal for a radio show named “Hit It or Quit It." I will co-host with one of my friends and the show will be broadcast on NPR.
Q: Are you comfortable with ambiguity?
A: Sure.
Q: How do you evaluate success?
A: In U.S. dollars.
Q: What approach do you take in getting people to accept your ideas?
A: Bribery is a pretty effective way to get people to do what you want. And if the ol’ carrot doesn’t work, go with the blackmail stick.
Q: Tell me about a time when you took the initiative on something.
A: I couldn’t figure out how to reposition our brand so I suggested that we call McKinsey. It was expensive but they made a really awesome deck for us.
Q: Tell me about a time when you were working on a team and there was a conflict.
A: Conflict only exists if you acknowledge it so I just ignore the problem. The situation will eventually work itself out and in the meantime I don’t have to deal with all that stress. Win-win!
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Tell Me Lies, Tell Me Sweet Little Lies
Tuesday
11:20AM – I receive a really interesting phone call from a recruiter in NYC.
“Hi, this is Lauren from Your Dream Company. Are you available to come in for an interview later this week, say Thursday? Sorry for the last minute notice but the hiring manager is heading to Asia on Friday and won’t be back until the end of the month.”
I’m not entirely sure why the recruiter assumed that I was a local candidate (as I have a Chicago address listed on my resume) but I certainly did not want to disabuse her of that notion.
“Unfortunately I’m actually in Chicago this week.” Like every other week. “Could we set up a phone interview instead?”
“Sure, let’s see” she responded. [Computer clicks] “How about tomorrow at 3PM?”
“That sounds great.” And I was in!
Wednesday
11:30AM – Operation Interview Prep commences. I interviewed with this company about a year ago so I already know a good deal about their business and culture. I take a quick cruise around the corporate website and begin to fantasize about my future employee discount.
2:51PM – I pick up my phone to send a quick text. Something is wrong though: my phone is off and the screen is blank. Blackberry, DO NOT do this to me now. Sighing, I flip my phone over, remove the SIM card, and replace it. The screen remains blank. Fine, I’ll just take out the battery then. I replace it and hold my breath. Great success: my phone begins to reboot.
2:58PM – My phone is STILL rebooting. T-T-Today junior!
3:01PM – My phone is finally back up and running.
3:02PM – The hiring manager calls. Thank goodness phone interviews always start a couple of minutes late.
3:26PM – We are wrapping up the phone call and the hiring manager says that she would like me to come in for an onsite interview. “So when are you going to be back in NYC?”
Crap! Make up something good. “Well, I’ll be in Chicago for the next few weeks while I finish up a project but I could be in New York by the end of the month.”
“Great, why don’t we plan on the 30th? In the next few days I’ll forward you an itinerary.”
3:28PM – The call ends. I go for a victory lap around the block.
11:20AM – I receive a really interesting phone call from a recruiter in NYC.
“Hi, this is Lauren from Your Dream Company. Are you available to come in for an interview later this week, say Thursday? Sorry for the last minute notice but the hiring manager is heading to Asia on Friday and won’t be back until the end of the month.”
I’m not entirely sure why the recruiter assumed that I was a local candidate (as I have a Chicago address listed on my resume) but I certainly did not want to disabuse her of that notion.
“Unfortunately I’m actually in Chicago this week.” Like every other week. “Could we set up a phone interview instead?”
“Sure, let’s see” she responded. [Computer clicks] “How about tomorrow at 3PM?”
“That sounds great.” And I was in!
Wednesday
11:30AM – Operation Interview Prep commences. I interviewed with this company about a year ago so I already know a good deal about their business and culture. I take a quick cruise around the corporate website and begin to fantasize about my future employee discount.
2:51PM – I pick up my phone to send a quick text. Something is wrong though: my phone is off and the screen is blank. Blackberry, DO NOT do this to me now. Sighing, I flip my phone over, remove the SIM card, and replace it. The screen remains blank. Fine, I’ll just take out the battery then. I replace it and hold my breath. Great success: my phone begins to reboot.
2:58PM – My phone is STILL rebooting. T-T-Today junior!
3:01PM – My phone is finally back up and running.
3:02PM – The hiring manager calls. Thank goodness phone interviews always start a couple of minutes late.
3:26PM – We are wrapping up the phone call and the hiring manager says that she would like me to come in for an onsite interview. “So when are you going to be back in NYC?”
Crap! Make up something good. “Well, I’ll be in Chicago for the next few weeks while I finish up a project but I could be in New York by the end of the month.”
“Great, why don’t we plan on the 30th? In the next few days I’ll forward you an itinerary.”
3:28PM – The call ends. I go for a victory lap around the block.
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Comments From the Peanut Gallery
Up to this point, I’ve done a lot of hemming and hawing about the recruiting environment, but I haven’t actually shared my opinion on any marketing topics. Well that ends now. Today’s topic? Caribou Coffee.
Caribou is a gourmet coffeehouse operator primarily concentrated in the Midwest with over 500 retail outlets. It trades on the NASDAQ under the symbol CBOU and has a current market cap of $135 million. And to my point, Caribou’s marketing is a hot mess.
There are two main problems with Caribou’s tag line “Life is short. Stay awake for it.” First, it seems to be entirely detached from the mountain lodge feel of its retail outlets. What exactly is the connection between staying awake and relaxing in a mountain lodge? Second, and more importantly, Caribou is effectively positioning itself in the “coffee as fuel” category. Unfortunately for them, Dunkin’ got there first – “American Runs on Dunkin” anyone? And Dunkin’ has been taking names and generally kicking ass as the “coffee as fuel” brand. Going head to head with Dunkin’ in this capacity is a losing proposition and yet that is exactly what Caribou is currently doing.
What exactly does the Caribou brand stand for? To most consumers, Caribou is simply the coffee place that is not Starbucks. And that sort of brand association is not going to help Caribou gain any market share. I think that Caribou’s real points of differentiation are free wi-fi and community. By community, I am referring to the fact that most Caribou locations have a room that can used for anything from book club gatherings to meetings of the local Boy Scout chapter – bet you didn’t know that. And that’s the problem.
Why doesn’t Caribou position itself as the coffee place where communities can come together? The mountain lodge design of its retail stores would support this type of community positioning as mountain lodges are inviting and comfortable places where people typically gather and relax. This positioning is not the same as that of Starbucks; Starbucks’ “Third Place” speaks to the individual (who spends time at home, work, and Starbucks) and not the community. In addition, free wi-fi is a natural tie-in to the community positioning that I am proposing because modern communities need to be digitally connected.
Caribou has an advantage over brands that do not have any retail outlets because it can tell its brand story exactly how it wants it told. However, this advantage is negated if Caribou’s story does not resonate with consumers. In that case, Caribou simply has significantly higher overhead expenses compared with those of its competitors in the grocery aisle. Caribou would realize a substantial ROI by clarifying its positioning to establish a more robust brand. Caribou’s coffeehouses represent 90% of net sales; once the retail outlets have been effectively leveraged, Caribou will enjoy a halo effect on the commercial and franchise business segments, which currently comprise approximately 10% of net sales.
But hey, what do I know?
Caribou is a gourmet coffeehouse operator primarily concentrated in the Midwest with over 500 retail outlets. It trades on the NASDAQ under the symbol CBOU and has a current market cap of $135 million. And to my point, Caribou’s marketing is a hot mess.
There are two main problems with Caribou’s tag line “Life is short. Stay awake for it.” First, it seems to be entirely detached from the mountain lodge feel of its retail outlets. What exactly is the connection between staying awake and relaxing in a mountain lodge? Second, and more importantly, Caribou is effectively positioning itself in the “coffee as fuel” category. Unfortunately for them, Dunkin’ got there first – “American Runs on Dunkin” anyone? And Dunkin’ has been taking names and generally kicking ass as the “coffee as fuel” brand. Going head to head with Dunkin’ in this capacity is a losing proposition and yet that is exactly what Caribou is currently doing.
What exactly does the Caribou brand stand for? To most consumers, Caribou is simply the coffee place that is not Starbucks. And that sort of brand association is not going to help Caribou gain any market share. I think that Caribou’s real points of differentiation are free wi-fi and community. By community, I am referring to the fact that most Caribou locations have a room that can used for anything from book club gatherings to meetings of the local Boy Scout chapter – bet you didn’t know that. And that’s the problem.
Why doesn’t Caribou position itself as the coffee place where communities can come together? The mountain lodge design of its retail stores would support this type of community positioning as mountain lodges are inviting and comfortable places where people typically gather and relax. This positioning is not the same as that of Starbucks; Starbucks’ “Third Place” speaks to the individual (who spends time at home, work, and Starbucks) and not the community. In addition, free wi-fi is a natural tie-in to the community positioning that I am proposing because modern communities need to be digitally connected.
Caribou has an advantage over brands that do not have any retail outlets because it can tell its brand story exactly how it wants it told. However, this advantage is negated if Caribou’s story does not resonate with consumers. In that case, Caribou simply has significantly higher overhead expenses compared with those of its competitors in the grocery aisle. Caribou would realize a substantial ROI by clarifying its positioning to establish a more robust brand. Caribou’s coffeehouses represent 90% of net sales; once the retail outlets have been effectively leveraged, Caribou will enjoy a halo effect on the commercial and franchise business segments, which currently comprise approximately 10% of net sales.
But hey, what do I know?
Monday, March 8, 2010
It really grinds my gears...
B-school and I are officially fighting. And I'm not talking a "you forgot to take out the trash" type of spat. No, I'm talking a "filing for divorce in the morning" brawl. What in particular is grinding my gears, you ask?
1) Despite the fact that I have not actually had any sort of income since mid-2007, my dear alma mater frequently emails me to solicit donations. Excuse me, but I just spent two years and a considerable amount of money learning about investments and - correct me if I'm wrong - I'm fairly certain that it's not good business sense to take on credit card debt in order to pay additional money to an institution that already has you by the balls for an enormous amount of student loan debt. And don't give me the "it will increase the value of your education" crap. Yes, alumni donation participation statistics are one of the metrics used to determine school rankings, which will indirectly affect the value of my MBA in the future. However, I'm willing to live dangerously and bet on the generosity of older, more financially stable alums. Let's just call this year a mulligan and I promise to start donating when I actually have a paycheck. Deal?
2) A friend of mine was recently denied admission. Is this an entirely personal complaint? Yes. Am I still pissed? You know it. Seriously, my buddy wasn't just Random Applicant. He is the graduate of a stellar undergrad program, has a fantastic job and solid GMATs, and is an exceptional writer (seriously, I ALWAYS have snarky editorial comments but I could do little to improve upon his application essays because they were perfection). What I'm trying to say is that my friend is no slouch. And other b-schools agreed because they let him in. Why couldn't my alma mater follow suit and give me a solid excuse to visit campus for two more years? Now I'm just going to be that Creepy Alum. Thanks a lot, b-school.
3) Shame on the staff of my school's career development office. I wag my finger at them for putting up postings for roles titled Rainmaker and Au Pair. And don't even get me started on all the spam postings from Ivy Exec and MBA Forum. Breaking news: I have a computer and can find those postings on my own. Why don't you go ahead and source some jobs that aren't open to the general public? Thanks.
B-school, you can have your stupid ring back. I never really loved you anyway.
1) Despite the fact that I have not actually had any sort of income since mid-2007, my dear alma mater frequently emails me to solicit donations. Excuse me, but I just spent two years and a considerable amount of money learning about investments and - correct me if I'm wrong - I'm fairly certain that it's not good business sense to take on credit card debt in order to pay additional money to an institution that already has you by the balls for an enormous amount of student loan debt. And don't give me the "it will increase the value of your education" crap. Yes, alumni donation participation statistics are one of the metrics used to determine school rankings, which will indirectly affect the value of my MBA in the future. However, I'm willing to live dangerously and bet on the generosity of older, more financially stable alums. Let's just call this year a mulligan and I promise to start donating when I actually have a paycheck. Deal?
2) A friend of mine was recently denied admission. Is this an entirely personal complaint? Yes. Am I still pissed? You know it. Seriously, my buddy wasn't just Random Applicant. He is the graduate of a stellar undergrad program, has a fantastic job and solid GMATs, and is an exceptional writer (seriously, I ALWAYS have snarky editorial comments but I could do little to improve upon his application essays because they were perfection). What I'm trying to say is that my friend is no slouch. And other b-schools agreed because they let him in. Why couldn't my alma mater follow suit and give me a solid excuse to visit campus for two more years? Now I'm just going to be that Creepy Alum. Thanks a lot, b-school.
3) Shame on the staff of my school's career development office. I wag my finger at them for putting up postings for roles titled Rainmaker and Au Pair. And don't even get me started on all the spam postings from Ivy Exec and MBA Forum. Breaking news: I have a computer and can find those postings on my own. Why don't you go ahead and source some jobs that aren't open to the general public? Thanks.
B-school, you can have your stupid ring back. I never really loved you anyway.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Admirals Club!
I was recently at a housewarming party and one of the characters in attendance was a newly-minted consultant (I'm talking started-work-that-week new). The novelty of consulting was still very much intact for him. Bursting with excitement, my friend regaled the entire party with tales of his consulting exploits. My favorite excerpt from the evening:
“Yeah, my flight on Thursday was delayed so I just hung out in the Admiral’s Club for a couple of hours. Honestly, I don’t know how I ever traveled without it." [He says this with a straight face and then pauses, suddenly looking aghast as he recalls his years of Admiral-free flight.] Recovering quickly, he then yells out "ADMIRALS CLUB!!!"
For the record, my solidly unemployed self had racked up twice as many air miles as he had over the course of that week. Count it: ORD-LGA, EWR-ORD, ORD-LGA, LGA-ORD. Admirals Club indeed.
“Yeah, my flight on Thursday was delayed so I just hung out in the Admiral’s Club for a couple of hours. Honestly, I don’t know how I ever traveled without it." [He says this with a straight face and then pauses, suddenly looking aghast as he recalls his years of Admiral-free flight.] Recovering quickly, he then yells out "ADMIRALS CLUB!!!"
For the record, my solidly unemployed self had racked up twice as many air miles as he had over the course of that week. Count it: ORD-LGA, EWR-ORD, ORD-LGA, LGA-ORD. Admirals Club indeed.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Recruiting Haiku
Education
What a fucking waste of time
I am still stupid
Full disclosure: I did not write this. The origins of this particular haiku have been traced back to the (now defunct) Shoreland Dormitory of the University of Chicago in the early 2000s but the actual author has not been identified. However, it is clearly too amazing not to be shared. Plus since I've had this posted on my fridge for the past seven or eight years, I feel a legitimate sense of ownership.
What a fucking waste of time
I am still stupid
Full disclosure: I did not write this. The origins of this particular haiku have been traced back to the (now defunct) Shoreland Dormitory of the University of Chicago in the early 2000s but the actual author has not been identified. However, it is clearly too amazing not to be shared. Plus since I've had this posted on my fridge for the past seven or eight years, I feel a legitimate sense of ownership.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Cheap Trick
It had been an epic week of recruiting for me.
Monday: ORD-LGA
Tuesday: Interview #1 in New Jersey, EWR-ORD in the afternoon
Wednesday: Full day of conference calls
Thursday: Digital marketing webinar
Friday: Interview #2 in Chicago, ORD-LGA in the evening (missed my first flight, would like to give a shout out to the CTA for taking well over an hour to get me from the north side of the city to O’Hare)
Saturday & Sunday: Threw some alcohol at the problem with the help of my New York crew. Unemployment seems a lot funnier three or four drinks in!
Monday: Interview #3 in Connecticut
There’s obviously a lot of material to work with here, but I’m going to proceed straight to Interview #3.
I had opted to fly out a few days ahead of time so that I could see friends in NYC over the weekend (and also because I had learned that it is a very poor idea to fly out the day of). Since the company was located in Connecticut, my plan was to take the train out of the city in the morning and then take a cab from the train station to the office. I got to Grand Central well before my train was scheduled to depart so I had plenty of time to grab a breakfast sandwich and coffee and enjoy some quality people watching. (Sadly, Serena Van Der Woodsen was not spotted.) At the appointed time, I hopped on the train and about an hour later I was in Connecticut. I got off the train and as scheduled, there was a cab waiting for me. I confirmed the address with the cabbie and 20 minutes later I was being dropped off at the front door of the office.
I’ll skip over the details of the actual interview; it was fairly typical and therefore does not lend itself to an entertaining story. You know what wasn’t standard ops though? My cab ride back to the train station.
The company was located equidistant between two train stations. I had arrived at one station in the morning, but I was going to depart from the other station to return to the city. The company had called a cab ahead of time so after wrapping up my last interview, I walked outside and got into the waiting “cab”. I say “cab” because it was basically a regular car with a taxicab decal on the window and a meter that was likely a losing submission in a fifth grade science fair. The cabbie’s hair was about as long as mine which immediately creeped me out. Men should not have longer hair than me, end of story.
My cabbie was extremely chatty. He asked me where I was from and when I told him Chicago, he lit up like a Christmas tree.
Cabbie: Hey, have you ever been to Rockford? My parents used to live there and that’s where Cheap Trick is from. Do you like Cheap Trick?
Me: Yeah, I know Rockford and I actually saw a Cheap Trick show a couple of years ago.
Cabbie: I’ve been to over 90 shows. How many times have you seen Cheap Trick?
Me: Oh, just that one time.
The cabbie then proceeded to launch into a graphic account of all of the times that he had seen Cheap Trick play. I zoned out for a bit but then I looked out the window and noticed that we were driving through what appeared to be a small subdivision. Was this really the way to the train station? All of a sudden it hit me that I had no clue where we were and that I was all alone in the car with the cabbie. And we appeared to be headed AWAY from civilization. I checked my watch and realized that we had been driving for just over 20 minutes. Where was that stupid train station?
OH MY GOD. They were going to find me in the woods, gagged with an old Cheap Trick concert tee.
I grabbed my phone and frantically tried to pull up my location. Just as my panic was reaching a crescendo, we arrived at the train station. It was the most beautiful place that I had ever seen. I paid the cabbie and all but fell over in my haste to get out of the cab. I’m happy to report that the rest of my commute passed without incident. Aaaaaand scene.
Monday: ORD-LGA
Tuesday: Interview #1 in New Jersey, EWR-ORD in the afternoon
Wednesday: Full day of conference calls
Thursday: Digital marketing webinar
Friday: Interview #2 in Chicago, ORD-LGA in the evening (missed my first flight, would like to give a shout out to the CTA for taking well over an hour to get me from the north side of the city to O’Hare)
Saturday & Sunday: Threw some alcohol at the problem with the help of my New York crew. Unemployment seems a lot funnier three or four drinks in!
Monday: Interview #3 in Connecticut
There’s obviously a lot of material to work with here, but I’m going to proceed straight to Interview #3.
I had opted to fly out a few days ahead of time so that I could see friends in NYC over the weekend (and also because I had learned that it is a very poor idea to fly out the day of). Since the company was located in Connecticut, my plan was to take the train out of the city in the morning and then take a cab from the train station to the office. I got to Grand Central well before my train was scheduled to depart so I had plenty of time to grab a breakfast sandwich and coffee and enjoy some quality people watching. (Sadly, Serena Van Der Woodsen was not spotted.) At the appointed time, I hopped on the train and about an hour later I was in Connecticut. I got off the train and as scheduled, there was a cab waiting for me. I confirmed the address with the cabbie and 20 minutes later I was being dropped off at the front door of the office.
I’ll skip over the details of the actual interview; it was fairly typical and therefore does not lend itself to an entertaining story. You know what wasn’t standard ops though? My cab ride back to the train station.
The company was located equidistant between two train stations. I had arrived at one station in the morning, but I was going to depart from the other station to return to the city. The company had called a cab ahead of time so after wrapping up my last interview, I walked outside and got into the waiting “cab”. I say “cab” because it was basically a regular car with a taxicab decal on the window and a meter that was likely a losing submission in a fifth grade science fair. The cabbie’s hair was about as long as mine which immediately creeped me out. Men should not have longer hair than me, end of story.
My cabbie was extremely chatty. He asked me where I was from and when I told him Chicago, he lit up like a Christmas tree.
Cabbie: Hey, have you ever been to Rockford? My parents used to live there and that’s where Cheap Trick is from. Do you like Cheap Trick?
Me: Yeah, I know Rockford and I actually saw a Cheap Trick show a couple of years ago.
Cabbie: I’ve been to over 90 shows. How many times have you seen Cheap Trick?
Me: Oh, just that one time.
The cabbie then proceeded to launch into a graphic account of all of the times that he had seen Cheap Trick play. I zoned out for a bit but then I looked out the window and noticed that we were driving through what appeared to be a small subdivision. Was this really the way to the train station? All of a sudden it hit me that I had no clue where we were and that I was all alone in the car with the cabbie. And we appeared to be headed AWAY from civilization. I checked my watch and realized that we had been driving for just over 20 minutes. Where was that stupid train station?
OH MY GOD. They were going to find me in the woods, gagged with an old Cheap Trick concert tee.
I grabbed my phone and frantically tried to pull up my location. Just as my panic was reaching a crescendo, we arrived at the train station. It was the most beautiful place that I had ever seen. I paid the cabbie and all but fell over in my haste to get out of the cab. I’m happy to report that the rest of my commute passed without incident. Aaaaaand scene.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Career Dead End
Perhaps you are wondering why trading did not equip me with marketable job skills? Allow me to clarify…
6:46am – Arrive at work and boot up my computer
6:53am – Open up my trading system and set up volatility skews
7:01am – Check for error trades from the previous day
7:09am – Dial into the headset. (I was on a headset with one of my company’s pit traders. Ostensibly we were on the headset to facilitate trading communication but most of the time, the headset served as a great source of entertainment)
7:12am – My boss walks into the office loudly proclaiming “FRIDAY!!!” and plays the “Call on Me” music video in celebration
7:15am – Turn auto-trader on and start quoting markets
7:16am – Encore performance of “Call on Me”
7:20am – The fixed-income markets officially open for the day
7:25am – Make my first trade of the day
7:32am – Make my second trade of the day
7:33am – Get hung on my futures and swear at top volume
7:37am – Pay up a half tick and get filled on my futures
8:04am – Naked Juice fridge is restocked. (That’s right, my company had an entire fridge devoted to Naked Juice. Oh, and it was free. Suffice it to say the Naked Juice fridge was an immediate hit)
8:05am – Employee run on the Naked Juice fridge
8:42am – Bathroom break #1 (Bathroom breaks are the only breaks that traders get throughout the day; as a result, traders take frequent bathroom breaks)
8:50am – Make my third trade of the day
9:09am – Read the WSJ online while pretending to do work
9:26am – The basis traders discuss the relative physical strength of their clerks. Within minutes, they decide to hold a push-up contest later that afternoon. The traders decide to up the ante by having a clerk do push-ups with another clerk sitting on his shoulders
9:31am – Trading in the push-up contract is fast and furious:
“I’m 36 bid!”
“Sold!”
“At 45!”
“Are you crazy? 40 bid!”
“At 42!”
“Buy ‘em!”
9:57am – Bathroom break #2
10:21am – A broker calls to tell me that a straddle just traded for small size in the pit. He then tells me about the new nicknames he’s come up with for several of the pit traders. My personal favorite? Cookie
10:59am – The catering company sets up lunch in the kitchen
11:00am – Employees descend upon the kitchen, grabbing food and drinks, and immediately return to their desks to eat and continue trading. (And you thought that traders couldn’t multi-task!)
11:31am – Make my fourth trade of the day
11:33am – Work my futures and get an excellent fill
12:02pm – Bathroom break #3
12:28pm – I blare “Sexyback” over the headset, ignoring my co-worker’s protests. He is my (and Justin Timberlake’s) captive audience
12:44pm – Read the New York Times online while pretending to do work
1:14pm – Make my fifth trade of the day
1:26pm – Bathroom break #4
1:59pm – Make my sixth trade of the day
2:00pm – The bell rings and the floor closes for the day
2:03pm – Sign off the headset
2:11pm – Review settlement prices
2:15pm – The pit traders return to the office and trading picks up in the push-up contract
2:27pm – Bathroom break #5
3:01pm – Traders clear out a space for the push-up contest
3:08pm – In preparation for the push-up contest, the clerk takes off his polo shirt
3:09pm – The push-up contract immediately goes bid
3:15pm – Push-up contest commences
3:17pm – The push-up contract settles at 44
3:18pm – Chaos erupts in the office. I witness both the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat; thousands of dollars will change hands
3:29pm – Mock trade with the clerks
4:00pm – Go home
6:46am – Arrive at work and boot up my computer
6:53am – Open up my trading system and set up volatility skews
7:01am – Check for error trades from the previous day
7:09am – Dial into the headset. (I was on a headset with one of my company’s pit traders. Ostensibly we were on the headset to facilitate trading communication but most of the time, the headset served as a great source of entertainment)
7:12am – My boss walks into the office loudly proclaiming “FRIDAY!!!” and plays the “Call on Me” music video in celebration
7:15am – Turn auto-trader on and start quoting markets
7:16am – Encore performance of “Call on Me”
7:20am – The fixed-income markets officially open for the day
7:25am – Make my first trade of the day
7:32am – Make my second trade of the day
7:33am – Get hung on my futures and swear at top volume
7:37am – Pay up a half tick and get filled on my futures
8:04am – Naked Juice fridge is restocked. (That’s right, my company had an entire fridge devoted to Naked Juice. Oh, and it was free. Suffice it to say the Naked Juice fridge was an immediate hit)
8:05am – Employee run on the Naked Juice fridge
8:42am – Bathroom break #1 (Bathroom breaks are the only breaks that traders get throughout the day; as a result, traders take frequent bathroom breaks)
8:50am – Make my third trade of the day
9:09am – Read the WSJ online while pretending to do work
9:26am – The basis traders discuss the relative physical strength of their clerks. Within minutes, they decide to hold a push-up contest later that afternoon. The traders decide to up the ante by having a clerk do push-ups with another clerk sitting on his shoulders
9:31am – Trading in the push-up contract is fast and furious:
“I’m 36 bid!”
“Sold!”
“At 45!”
“Are you crazy? 40 bid!”
“At 42!”
“Buy ‘em!”
9:57am – Bathroom break #2
10:21am – A broker calls to tell me that a straddle just traded for small size in the pit. He then tells me about the new nicknames he’s come up with for several of the pit traders. My personal favorite? Cookie
10:59am – The catering company sets up lunch in the kitchen
11:00am – Employees descend upon the kitchen, grabbing food and drinks, and immediately return to their desks to eat and continue trading. (And you thought that traders couldn’t multi-task!)
11:31am – Make my fourth trade of the day
11:33am – Work my futures and get an excellent fill
12:02pm – Bathroom break #3
12:28pm – I blare “Sexyback” over the headset, ignoring my co-worker’s protests. He is my (and Justin Timberlake’s) captive audience
12:44pm – Read the New York Times online while pretending to do work
1:14pm – Make my fifth trade of the day
1:26pm – Bathroom break #4
1:59pm – Make my sixth trade of the day
2:00pm – The bell rings and the floor closes for the day
2:03pm – Sign off the headset
2:11pm – Review settlement prices
2:15pm – The pit traders return to the office and trading picks up in the push-up contract
2:27pm – Bathroom break #5
3:01pm – Traders clear out a space for the push-up contest
3:08pm – In preparation for the push-up contest, the clerk takes off his polo shirt
3:09pm – The push-up contract immediately goes bid
3:15pm – Push-up contest commences
3:17pm – The push-up contract settles at 44
3:18pm – Chaos erupts in the office. I witness both the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat; thousands of dollars will change hands
3:29pm – Mock trade with the clerks
4:00pm – Go home
Monday, February 15, 2010
Beggars CAN Be Choosers
So this thing just happened. I have been recruiting for marketing roles for approximately 442 days and counting, and I had a phone interview with a well known market research firm last week. Apparently the call went well because I was invited out for an onsite interview. And I politely turned it down.
Crazy person did what?
Yes, I turned down the opportunity to interview for an actual job. The position was based in Middle of Nowhere, USA and the thought of living there for even just a year was the most depressing thought ever. Apparently I'm flexible in terms of geography as long as the job is within commuting distance of San Francisco, Chicago, New York, Boston, or another major city.
Key takeaway: No matter how frustrating the job search may get, don't interview just for the sake of interviewing.
Crazy person did what?
Yes, I turned down the opportunity to interview for an actual job. The position was based in Middle of Nowhere, USA and the thought of living there for even just a year was the most depressing thought ever. Apparently I'm flexible in terms of geography as long as the job is within commuting distance of San Francisco, Chicago, New York, Boston, or another major city.
Key takeaway: No matter how frustrating the job search may get, don't interview just for the sake of interviewing.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Young MBA, Bust a Move
This here’s a jam for all the candidates
Tryin to do what those employers tell us
Get shot down cause ya over zealous
Play hard to get but no companies get jealous
Ok smarty, scan job postings
Look for a position that inspires boasting
A job opens up, you wish you could snag it
But Taleo ignores your resume, damn it
Next day’s function high class luncheon
Attendees from companies you’re straight up crunchin
Speaker wraps up, people start exchangin words
But then you freak cause you forgot your cards
A woman walks by, rockin style
That you recognize from her LinkedIn profile
Walk her through your resume, yeah you’re smooth
So come on MBA and just bust a move
You’re on a mission and you’re wishin
Someone could cure your unemployed condition
Lookin for jobs in all the wrong places
No decent offers just fruitless chases
Some frustration first inclination
Is to marry well and just leave the situation
But every dark tunnel has a light of hope
So don’t hang yourself with a financial rope
Meeting’s scheduled, so you’re goin
Could care less about the time you’re blowin
The truth is that you're feelin stressed
Recruiter comes to greet you, you'd better impress
Conversation goes well and you’re stoked
But then you learn the salary’s a joke
You email back without a second to lose
And what comes next hey bust a move
In this economy, outlook’s bleak
Talent pipeline’s gettin pinched so to speak
WSJ reports nonfarm payrolls still not on the rise
If this continues you’ll be servin fries
CPG is hirin, search is tirin
They want someone to market the bacon
Got an MBA but limited experience thus far
Then you got no offer and there you are
Companies today are formulaic, real archaic
Lookin for a candidate makes them straight up prosaic
Make you jump through hoops for a role
But then they tell you to take a stroll
Kanye was right about education after all
Mr. Advanced Degree can’t even get a job at the mall
Resume in hand, you’ve got something to prove
So don’t just stand there bust a move
Your best friend Mary has a contact Larry
Who’s lookin to hire without tarry
He’s hopin you can make it there for some face time if you can
Cause he thinks you just might be the right kind of man
You say neat-o, check your ego
And roll to the interview in pinstripes flyer than any tuxedo
The recruiter walks out just to start the show
But it’s one more opportunity that you blow
So you regroup then you start thinkin
Nothing to lose by callin the recruiter for that new position
She thinks you’re kinda intriguing so she calls back
And now you’re feeling really pimp because the firm is stacked
You set up an onsite, strong fist pumpin
Research the company and your heart starts thumpin
Recruiter says she wants a candidate of a different groove
Now you know what to do, MBA just bust a move
Tryin to do what those employers tell us
Get shot down cause ya over zealous
Play hard to get but no companies get jealous
Ok smarty, scan job postings
Look for a position that inspires boasting
A job opens up, you wish you could snag it
But Taleo ignores your resume, damn it
Next day’s function high class luncheon
Attendees from companies you’re straight up crunchin
Speaker wraps up, people start exchangin words
But then you freak cause you forgot your cards
A woman walks by, rockin style
That you recognize from her LinkedIn profile
Walk her through your resume, yeah you’re smooth
So come on MBA and just bust a move
You’re on a mission and you’re wishin
Someone could cure your unemployed condition
Lookin for jobs in all the wrong places
No decent offers just fruitless chases
Some frustration first inclination
Is to marry well and just leave the situation
But every dark tunnel has a light of hope
So don’t hang yourself with a financial rope
Meeting’s scheduled, so you’re goin
Could care less about the time you’re blowin
The truth is that you're feelin stressed
Recruiter comes to greet you, you'd better impress
Conversation goes well and you’re stoked
But then you learn the salary’s a joke
You email back without a second to lose
And what comes next hey bust a move
In this economy, outlook’s bleak
Talent pipeline’s gettin pinched so to speak
WSJ reports nonfarm payrolls still not on the rise
If this continues you’ll be servin fries
CPG is hirin, search is tirin
They want someone to market the bacon
Got an MBA but limited experience thus far
Then you got no offer and there you are
Companies today are formulaic, real archaic
Lookin for a candidate makes them straight up prosaic
Make you jump through hoops for a role
But then they tell you to take a stroll
Kanye was right about education after all
Mr. Advanced Degree can’t even get a job at the mall
Resume in hand, you’ve got something to prove
So don’t just stand there bust a move
Your best friend Mary has a contact Larry
Who’s lookin to hire without tarry
He’s hopin you can make it there for some face time if you can
Cause he thinks you just might be the right kind of man
You say neat-o, check your ego
And roll to the interview in pinstripes flyer than any tuxedo
The recruiter walks out just to start the show
But it’s one more opportunity that you blow
So you regroup then you start thinkin
Nothing to lose by callin the recruiter for that new position
She thinks you’re kinda intriguing so she calls back
And now you’re feeling really pimp because the firm is stacked
You set up an onsite, strong fist pumpin
Research the company and your heart starts thumpin
Recruiter says she wants a candidate of a different groove
Now you know what to do, MBA just bust a move
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Job Posting of the Week
Source: the career website of a large publicly traded retailer
One of the qualifications listed for an analyst role? "Must be able to operate a computer."
In order to find the job in the first place, potential candidates have to be able to search the corporate website. To the best of my knowledge, that is known as operating a computer. Slow clap for the team responsible for this gem.
One of the qualifications listed for an analyst role? "Must be able to operate a computer."
In order to find the job in the first place, potential candidates have to be able to search the corporate website. To the best of my knowledge, that is known as operating a computer. Slow clap for the team responsible for this gem.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Please Publish My Plight!
Flashback to last year: it was mid-February and recruiting had come to a virtual halt. I was checking my email (definitely not in the middle of class*) and I was pleasantly surprised to see a note from a reporter at the Wall Street Journal. She covered the b-school beat and was writing an article about the challenging recruiting environment.
Behold dear readers:
“I was wondering if you could put me in touch with someone who is still looking for a job or if you’re still in that boat. Your thoughts/experiences will be part of a story about career recruiting and how tough it is this year.”
I was ecstatic. Oh yes WSJ, please publish my plight! I could see how this would unfold already: I would eloquently describe my recruiting efforts and the obstacles that I was encountering along the way. Impressed by my wit and obvious intelligence, some recruiter would swoop in with an offer and I would ride off into the sunset with my dream job.
Alas, the hundred other MBAs who likely received this same message beat me to the punch; by the time I connected with the reporter she had already finished her story. And I called her within the hour.
Key takeaway:
There is no such thing as bad publicity but remember that the news waits for no man (or woman).
*It was really towards the very end of class.
Behold dear readers:
“I was wondering if you could put me in touch with someone who is still looking for a job or if you’re still in that boat. Your thoughts/experiences will be part of a story about career recruiting and how tough it is this year.”
I was ecstatic. Oh yes WSJ, please publish my plight! I could see how this would unfold already: I would eloquently describe my recruiting efforts and the obstacles that I was encountering along the way. Impressed by my wit and obvious intelligence, some recruiter would swoop in with an offer and I would ride off into the sunset with my dream job.
Alas, the hundred other MBAs who likely received this same message beat me to the punch; by the time I connected with the reporter she had already finished her story. And I called her within the hour.
Key takeaway:
There is no such thing as bad publicity but remember that the news waits for no man (or woman).
*It was really towards the very end of class.
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