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.
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
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…
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