A question for my guest blogger

What's the deal with the federal job application process? It makes applying for a rebate look simple. I trust that you will do something about this now that you're in a position of power.

News from the personnel human resources department

Now the people who plow through employment applications and send your resume on to department heads are called corporate recruiters.

I know this because I've been in contact with a few of this new breed of employee lately. And they've all announced themselves, stated their title and then explained that they work for the company that is actually hiring for the position. Because otherwise I wouldn't know that. Which I didn't tell them But they knew.

Ugh!

Just got off a telephone interview in which the interviewer called me 20 minutes early (I was in the bathroom when the call came) and called me from a cellphone with bad reception. The fun never ends.

Hurry up and wait

Job hunting is a strange, drawn out process. You spend hours preparing for an interview or series of interviews that the prospective employer wants to take place ASAP. After the interview, you send personalized notes--within 24 hours of the meeting--to everyone whose path you might have crossed during the interview, thanking them for meeting with you and a) gushing about what a fine organization it is; b) restating your interest in the job; and c) demonstrating how you're the perfect person for the job. Then you sit around for weeks, possibly months, waiting to hear the outcome of said interview.

I remember once going to a job interview in February only to be told that the employer didn't expect to hire anyone until September. Did they expect that I would hang on until then in the hopes of getting this not-terribly-interesting entry level job?

Academia is particularly prone to dragging things out. They'll advertise for a position in January with a closing date of April, interviews will begin in June for a job that should start in September but will quite possibly stay open until the following semester. That is, if they don't reopen the search and start all over from scratch.

My most unsatisfying job searching experience was for an academic job. The process took forever: I interviewed in March and found out that I wasn't hired in August. But that was by far the least of it. No, it was necessary that I jump through about six dozen hoops before I was rejected.

It started, as these things often do, with a conference call. A three-way. A week later I received a packet in the mail advising me of the next steps. The evening before the actual interview I was to get a tour of the campus led by my would-be boss followed by dinner with her and her second-in-command. At 8 am the following morning came breakfast with a couple members of the department. This was followed by an interview with the HR person, followed by a tête-à-tête with the director of the whole shebang.

After I chatted with the director, I would give a short presentation of about 20 to 25 minutes to the entire library staff--about 50 people. The presentation should end with a question-and-answer session of about 15 minutes, so I should take pains to make the subject provocative to ensure that the audience would have questions. After a group interview with seven staff members, I would lunch with three other people.

I was to have a 15-minute break after lunch to compose myself before setting off across campus to the building where the lucky candidate would actually work. There, I would meet for about 20 minutes with the entire group, and then meet individually with each of my would-be colleagues, about 5 or 6 people. I would then meet with my would be boss again. And then her second-in-command would let me know what the next step in the process would be. It turned out to be another conference call with her and someone else whom I hadn't met in the first marathon session.

I won't bore you with every detail (especially since I've already bored you this much), but it was far from an outright disaster though there were a few glitches.

Dinner went swimmingly; it was convivial yet restrained. Both my dinner companion took great pains to tell me that they were very interested in hiring me. They kept saying "We wouldn't make you do all this if you weren't a serious candidate for the position."

But the next morning my car stalled out on I-95 and so I missed breakfast. Perhaps this was the nail in the coffin, but I don't think so.

The presentation was fantastic and I'm not bragging. My would-be boss was giving me the thumbs up from the audience. The thing broke up only because the audience kept asking questions way past the alloted time period. Afterwards, my would be boss pulled me aside and told me how fantastic it was and reiterated: "We wouldn't make you do all this if you weren't a serious candidate for the position." This was the mantra of the day and I believed them.

During my final encounter of the day, I was assured that they wanted this position filled yesterday. Again, I was told "We wouldn't make you do all this if you weren't a serious candidate for the position." Within a week, I had the second conference call. Five months later, I was informed that I didn't get the job.

What happened? Beats me, though someone told me sometime that day that the decision on whom to hire was done by consensus. And that even those people who just sat in on my talk had a say in the matter.

So someone I would probably only see once a year at the annual Christmas party could veto my candidacy if she didn't like my haircut, my face, or my choice of footwear.

You just never know.

When my interviewer rolled his eyes heavenward

I pretty much knew it was all over.

This was a video interview. I was in a law office in Washington, DC; my interlocutor was at its LA counterpart. The job in question is a kind of mash up of librarian/editor/writer that I'd applied for through a recruiter.

I know one is supposed to roll with the punches when undergoing this sort of thing, and really, I'm not too upset about the outcome of this particular interview, but sometimes one does get ahead of oneself and begins to imagine what life would be like if one got a particular job.

In other words, I'd already begun looking for places to live in LA. Rash, I know, but I kind of got caught up in the whirlwind.

After I submitted my resume I had a conference call with three recruiters. We discussed various jobs I might be interested in and one of them asked me if I was prepared to move to California. Interviewers always ask this question, which seems kind of idiotic to me since I wouldn't have applied for the position if I wasn't prepared to move to California. But I said said yes, though I did have concerns about the cost of housing. She then went into this whole spiel about the renaissance of downtown LA, which had been undergoing urban renewal. It's a great place to live, she said. And you could walk to work.

OK, that piqued my interest, but I still wasn't looking at real estate.

We continued our discussion and they asked me to customize my resume for the job, which I did over Labor Day weekend. I heard from them the following Tuesday. They'd submitted my resume to the employer, they'd let me know as soon as they heard anything.

Wednesday, one of them sends me an email. How soon could I move if I accepted the job? I give him a theoretical estimate that seems to satisfy him. Friday, I get a call from yet another recruiter. What days would I be available the following week for a telephone interview. I tell him.

Monday, another recruiter calls. An interview is set up for Wednesday. Fine, I say. Tuesday the same guy who set up the interview calls and wants to know how soon I can move to California. A couple of weeks? Does that sound reasonable? It sounds fine, he says.

You see where this is going: I begin thinking about the furniture I won't be taking with me. Do I really need to take any of this crap, I wonder. Should I drive my car across country or find someone to do it for me? Will my car even make it to California? Maybe I could afford a new (used) car? If I walk to work will I even need the car? And on and on.

Then I start picturing my perfect home office. The walls are turquoise, the desk is white--sleek and plain--and the desk chair is white leather. One wall will be filled with bookshelves. And, near the window, there will be a comfy chair for reading, perhaps an Eames lounge chair or maybe a chaise. I'm wondering whether the small, rolling file cabinet should be orange or green when the phone rings again.

It's 10 pm and the recruiter on the phone sounds frazzled. There's been a mix up, he says. The LA people were expecting me in their office at 9 am tomorrow. He's trying to get a hold of them to straighten everything out. Would I be available for an interview the day after tomorrow? Sure. How late can I call you? Midnight my time, I guess. I go to bed without hearing any news.

The next morning I find an email in my inbox saying that I'm scheduled for a conference call with the LA office at 12:30 my time on Friday. I confirm and go about my business, which includes taking a couple more phone calls from the two other recruiters telling me that I should read up on the firm. I also get an email with the job description attached and instructions to "have something to say" about each of the duties listed.

The following day--again at around 10 pm, I get an email telling me that I have to go to Washington for a video interview at 12:30. They're really anxious to wrap this thing up, he says. Further, I must fill out the attached application--leaving absolutely no blank spaces--and present it to the receptionist at the lawfirm. Done, I email back.

Do you feel the frenzy? Is it any wonder that I begin searching for apartments in LA within the zipcode of the law firm?

Anyway, I arrive at the DC office 10 minutes before the interview. I submit my paperwork, which I'm asked to put in a "confidential" envelope to be sent to the LA office. I'm told to go to the Jefferson room across the hall where everything is set up for me. The Jefferson room is a sleek, modern conference room with a large marble table surrounded by several chairs. There's a widescreen monitor against one wall focused on an identical conference room in LA. On a sideboard there is fresh coffee, hot water for tea, about 30 different flavors of teabags to choose from and bottled water with the firm's name and logo on in. I help myself to some water and sit down. There are two items on the desk: a phone and something with buttons all over it.

Five minutes go by and a woman enters the room in LA, she picks up the button thingy on the table there and appears to be making some sort of adjustment. She speaks, but I cannot hear her. She leaves the conference room.

Another five minutes go by and a scruffy guy in jeans and a t-shirt enters the LA conference room. He waves hello with both hands. I respond in kind. He picks up the button thingy and starts wildly gesticulating. I mimic him and begin pressing buttons. Nothing happens. He makes another gesture and leaves the room. I go to the room next door where I'd seen somebody working and ask if she can get me some help. She agrees to call the IT people.

I return to the room. Scruffy guy reenters and recommences the gesticulating. Again, I start pushing buttons. I pick up the phone, push a button and end up hanging up on him. I return to the office next door and tell her my plight. She says IT is on its way. I go back to the room, monkey with every button in sight and somehow manage to reconnect. Scruffy guy is there and I can hear him. He can hear me, too. IT guy enters and begins monkeying with the picture, blowing me up so that my face takes over the screen. I tell him to stop.

The interview proper begins. But, strictly speaking, it's already over. And the feeling is confirmed when I get the eyeroll. The next day I get an email making it official.

I guess my ideal home office will have to wait.

Multi-tasking

I'm redoing my resume while attempting to watch a Roz Russell film festival on TCM. Naturally, I'm enjoying the latter much more than the former though I can't say I've really been able to devote the kind of concentration to Ms. Russell that I would have liked. Which is a pity because they've shown a number of movies that I've never seen before. And my DVR is broken so I can't save them for later.

I do think, however, that my resume is much better than it was before. It's punchier and chock-full of those action verbs prospective employers are said to like so much.

A Lexus? Or a Hummer?

So Wednesday I had to attend a compulsory workshop held by the Maryland Employment Department that is supposed to help us unemployment collectors in our job search. I'll admit that I didn't expect much from this venture, given my past experience with state employment agencies (about which more later).

Unfortunately, my expectations were proved correct.

The day didn't begin well. I woke up late, so I had no time for either coffee or the mandatory (for me) hour of silence I need before I go out and face the world. And there's nothing worse than attending a 5-hour workshop coffeeless, breakfastless and without my morning meditation, which generally consists of slurping three cups of coffee while watching the news and reading my email.

We were told by letter that we were to attend a two-day workshop that began on Wednesday, June 13, the assumption being that it finished up on June 14. Instead we were told upon arrival that the "verbiage" of the letter was "vague" and that the second day was to be held on Friday. Fine. Those of us who had interviews scheduled for Friday, that would be me, would have to come the following Friday. Now, since the classes are always held on Wednesday and Friday, because they can't get access to the facility on Thursday, wouldn't it be wise to change the "verbiage" in this form letter to reflect that reality?

About 10 minutes into the presentation--given with the aid of overhead transparencies--who should enter the class and make her way up to the front row with a loud, "sorry, excuse me, sorry," but Jillian (not her real name), my arch nemesis from my last job. Jillian is one of those people who's always late and always apologizing for it. She really deserves a blog post--or a series of posts--all by herself. For now I'll just say that the mere sight of her fills me with an explosive rage. Indeed, one of the bonuses of losing my job was that I'd never have to see Jillian again. But here I was staring at the back of her head.

So we get started by going around the room and introducing ourselves. Then we go over the agenda, which will consist of:

• Interviewing techniques
  
• Networking
  
• Resume information
  
• Cover letters
  
• The application process
  
• Search planning
  
• Search resources
  
• Thank you notes and letters
  
• Labor Market Information

This is not exactly how it went, however. Instead, we spent a half an hour learning what would happen to us if we didn't attend the workshop, along with anecdotes and horror stories. Then we spent a half hour going over how to fill in the form in our work search booklets to account for the fact that we attended the two-day workshop.

Then the instructor's partner went up to the blackboard to prepare a list. We were asked to shout out the things we wanted from a job. Then we were asked to shout out the things employers wanted from us. I could probably have taken this more seriously, if we hadn't kept pausing while the blackboard writer consulted a man in the first row as to which color chalk worked better on the list. When it was decided that the blue she opted to use for the employer's needs wasn't quite right, she began going over our answers on the chalkboard with a lovely shade of pink. And we just sat and watched her as she completed the process.

Then we took a break.

Upon our return, we were told to do an exercise that consisted of circling the thing with which we most identified on the following list:

Lexus or Hummer
Boston or Los Angeles
Popcorn or Snickers bar
Lake or Ocean
Birdor Cat
Piano or Violin
Damor Bridge
Sugaror Garlic
Bat or Ball
New Year's Eve or Valentine's Day
Europe or Australia
Roller skates or Bicycle
The moon or The sun
Speedboat or Sailboat
Apple or A whopper
Orange or Blue
Mountains or Beach
Rock concert or The symphony
Monopoly or Video games

What followed had the dark inevitability of a Greek tragedy as the instructor went down the list asking who voted for each item.

Why, the instructor wanted to know, did the fellow to my left opt for a Lexus over a Hummer?

"Because the Hummer's stupid. It's just a tricked out army vehicle made popular by celebrities."

Wrong answer. It seems Hummer people are more hands on than Lexus people, who prefer to sit in an air conditioned office not getting their hands dirty. And on it went. We were considering the implications of choosing sugar over garlic when I raised my hand.

Yes, the instructor asked.

"You know this is complete and utter bullshit."

I'm sorry you feel that way, ma'am, but this is designed to get you thinking about what you want to do with your life, quoth she.

"It's totally meaningless. Sometimes I prefer garlic and sometimes I want sugar. And I couldn't care less about either a Lexus or a Hummer. I vote for neither.

Well, ma'am, I got this from a Maryland Employment conference and many folks think it's quite helpful, said the instructor, getting defensive.

It degenerated quite a bit from there, with some people shouting out agreement with me. The instructor offered to go on to something else. But she changed her mind when one wiseacre out of a class of 40 said he wanted to continue. So she continued going down the list. But her heart wasn't in it.

Now, I'm pretty sure I could have learned something from a job search workshop that actually covered the agenda we were supposed to cover. I would have particularly welcomed input on the interview process. As it happens, the next exercise consisted of us interviewing our neighbor for 5 minutes and then switching places with said neighbor. During this time, the two instructors were whispering to each other and paying no attention to how any of the interviews were going. No one was asked how their interviewee did. Instead, we just went on to the next segment, which was devoted to listening to one of the speakers read aloud the web addresses of the Internet resources listed on our handout.

All in all, not a great five hours.

There are a lot of librarian jobs in prisons

Who knew? I'm not applying.

Big gaffe

Had a telephone interview today and when the guy asked me what kind of salary I was looking for I apparently gave them a figure that was way too low.

First day of unemployment

I went hiking for an hour, stopped by the grocery store and drug store and it's already past noon. This not having to adhere to a schedule will take some getting used to.

Countdown to unemployment--Day 4

I've never been in a job long enough to use all my business cards. They're apparently printed by the truckload so I'd have to hand them out, two at a time, to every person I pass by in order to make a dent in them. I came across a few thousand yesterday while cleaning out a drawer. I took them home. I can't think why. Maybe I'll make a gigantic collage. Or wallpaper my bathroom with them.

Countdown to unemployment--Day 6

Blogging may be light while I finish packing this place up. Then again, maybe it won't. Anyway, I'm covered with papercuts and am just generally in a foul mood--not because of the imminent loss of my job, but just because. I'd actually welcome not going to work if I could figure out a way to squeeze a paycheck out of it.

I do have a couple of irons in the fire, so all is not lost.

I'm pleading exhaustion

I drove 70 miles to an interview, was there for six hours and drove home. Back tomorrow.

D-Day minus 35

Still looking for a new job and, with time running out, I've been devoting most of my day to that pursuit. I'm getting desperate and my fallback position of winning the lottery doesn't appear to be working either--especially since I seldom buy a ticket. Let me know if you know of anything in the library or writing fields. More info on me here.

Where would you like to be in 10 years?

I just got back from a job interview during which that question was asked. These days I prattle on about wanting a challenge, a chance to grow, blah, blah, blah. The truth is I really don't have some kind of a grand plan. Nor do I have an ideal job.

How about you? Do you have an ideal job? Is it just in your head or are you living it? How do you answer the 10-year question in interviews? If it's something good, can I steal it from you?

I'm still looking for a job

But I won't be using these cover letters as a template when seeking work. Here's a seasonal example, with the recipient's response in italics:

Twas 4 weeks after Christmas
And all throughout Killian and Company
Human Relations pondered over
Who would be the next intern/employee?

[Not a promising beginning, poetry fans. Try tapping your toes to this next stanza. It's a major challenge, since every line has a different number of syllables.]

The staff in their cubicles, all snug in their chairs
While visions of lunch in Chi-town were their only main cares
The big boss in his office, and me still at Miami
Both nervous and wondering: our hands remained clammy

[Normally, we discreetly edit out any references that could identify a person or institution, but since there are two Miamis, we left it in. They can each cringe, and pray it's from the other one.]

When out in the mailroom there arose such a clatter
Employees from all over crowded to see what was the matter
Back in my apartment with a smile laid back
I knew once they'd opened my letter; there was no turning back

[This stanza falls into the category ... no, strike that. This stanza lurches drunkenly down the basement stairs of the category Rhythm, stumbling into synchopathology, a word we just made up.]

The sun on the streets of busy Windy City
Gave the luster of midday to 322 S. Green
When, what to their letter reading eyes should appear?
A girl with some spunk, and evidently no fear

[Nor ear.]

As Ivory goes along with a substance called soap
Everyone looked at each other with a small gleam of hope
"It's time to stop letting all the normal folk dance
And open our eyes, and give this chick a chance!"

[We'll stop here, although it goes on, and on, and on, and on for some time. Get a long little doggerel? We'll spare you the Yoda-like "Graduating college she is!" because we're getting all clammy. Again.]

Via Don.