I interviewed a young woman this year and I asked her to take me through her resume. My questions are always the same: start from the beginning and tell me about each of your jobs. How did you get them? What was good/bad about them? And why did you leave? The line of questioning tells me quite a bit. I’m looking for patterns to find out what drives this candidate and what they’re looking for in each job that they didn’t find in the previous one.

 

“Tracy” was so full of energy, she was practically vibrating when we met. She had a huge smile, a huge personality and we connected easily, chatting about her new move to town and her eagerness to get to work. But she couldn’t seem to get interviews despite the brand-name companies on her resume and her obvious success with clients. She pulled out her resume and I asked her to take me through it. And that’s where the pattern showed up.

 

Tracy changed jobs about every 12-18 months. Her infectiously positive personality would get her into a role, she’d be insanely successful for a short time, and then she would leave. Why? Someone took credit for her work and she couldn’t stand for that; someone changed her bonus structure and she couldn’t stand for that; she developed a great client relationship and it was reassigned. She couldn’t stand for that, could she? Each of her 11 positions over the past 15 years (seriously – 11!) ended when someone did her wrong.

 

I asked her directly if it was impossible to please her and she was surprised – she hadn’t seen the pattern until now. But here she was, in her late 30’s with a job-hopper’s resume in a recession – who was going to take a chance on her? She had moved to a community where company loyalty is valued and her resume highlighted her lack in this arena. And most importantly for her own development, at what point was she going to commit to a company for the long run, living with the success and problems that come with that commitment?

 

Our interview time was more of a therapy session with Tracy finally figuring out her career had stalled because she wouldn’t stay and work things out when she felt wronged, she’d just bolt. Now the question was, how to handle it at this point?

 

Honestly. Well, pretty honestly. I had Tracy re-do her resume to more of a functional one.  Her individual successes, which were incredibly impressive, were bullet-pointed on page one, and her actual job history was listed at the extreme end of the resume, right above Education, with no details, only names and dates. I also had her eliminate the earliest positions so the pattern wasn’t quite so obvious. Now the reader had an opportunity to be impressed before seeing her short tenure.

 

The new resume quickly got her an interview and questions there generally focused on her work successes rather than on job longevity. When one person asked her directly if she considered herself a job-hopper, she handled it gracefully – she had always left on her own, she said (which was true), was often hired away by former co-workers (also true and always a plus) and although she may have left one or two positions too soon, she always left the companies with better client relationships and better profits than when she started. She was expecting this opportunity, based on what she’d heard, to be a solid, long-term relationship.

 

A terrific answer, under the circumstance. Tracy was hired and is learning to table her knee-jerk reactions to work out problems rather than leaving. A great ending to this story!

OK.  So you've just lost your job.  You might have felt it coming and even started making plans around it.  But when it happens, you're still shaken.  Suddenly your career path is no longer in your own hands -- someone else is making life decisions on your behalf.  It doesn't matter if you loved, hated, or felt indifferent about your job, you're adrift.  You leave the office on that last day (remember those photos of the Lehman staffers walking out with all their personal stuff in a box and sad-looking plants popping out?  Now that's you).  What do you do?

Go Home and Stay There

"Stuart" did it all wrong.  He sent out emails and let everyone know he was job-hunting.  He got on LinkedIn and started sourcing out other contacts.  He arranged coffee meetings to spread the word, get other names, get advice.  I've known him for 15 years (he's a former candidate, a former client and a great guy) and I was happy to reconnect.  We met at a Starbucks, gave each other a big bear hug and settled down with hot drinks.  Within 10 seconds I knew this was a mistake.

Stuart was exhausted and down, upset and scared.  He'd worked non-stop for 25 years in positions of increasing responsibility in an industry that favors youth. Now that it was over he did what he thought he should do -- he threw himself into landing the next job, eager to position himself as ready to find the next challenge.  But his demeanor showed just the opposite.  He slumped, he kept rubbing his eyes, he couldn't admit why he left his current job; "it was just time for a change," he kept saying.  But when you're 50+ leaving a stable job in a horribly rocky time, that answer is just too hard to believe.   He hadn't thought clearly through what he might want in his next role and was vague about interests: "I've always been interested in non-profits" he said, but when I asked him about the volunteer work he's done, he admitted he didn't like committees and didn't think his salary needs could be accommodated in a non-profit setting.  He asked for some advice.

I told him to go home.  Take a vacation.  Hang with his wife whom I know he adores.  Take a nap.  Disappear and get the angst out of his system before putting himself in front of people.  Setting up meetings now just reinforces how completely unready he is for work and people won't forget that.  With every conversation and every meeting he was just digging himself deeper in a hole.

Crying At An Interview -- Not A Good Sign

"Zach" was just the opposite.  We didn't know each other before this interview and he bounced into our meeting, full of energy and charming.  He's a copywriter by background with great leadership experience.  He had been wooed away from a job he liked very much with the promise of money and autonomy to run a department at a new advertising agency.  He joined on, got to work, and was fired within 8 months -- they changed strategies, they said, and no longer would fund this division.  I saw him within a week or two after it happened and he seemed to have shrugged it off as a bad move -- everyone has one of those, don't they?  They do, I said.  We've all made job-choice mistakes and after a bit of time passes, they're not such a big deal.  I said something innocuous about what a shame it was, though, to have left a job he liked for this one. 

He was quiet for a second and then he started crying.  Really crying.  Sobbing. Sniffling.  Dripping.  He couldn't believe how stupid he was, he said, to have gotten swayed by a big title and salary.  He was angry at himself, worried that he let his family down, and scared about the future.  My advice was the same:  Go home.  Stop talking to people until you can be sure your emotions are in check.  Relax and get over this, but stop talking to people until you do.

Would you hire you?

Remember that saying "you only get one chance to make a first impression"?  It's true.  People will peg you and categorize you quickly, when they're evaluating you as a candidate and you won't get another chance.  Depressed, insecure and seemingly unstable aren't particularly desirable characteristics.  Go home.  Take care of yourself.  Talk with people who love you and when you and they actually see evidence that you can talk about your job change with a truly positive demeanor, then you can pick up your job search.  Not one minute before.

Trust me on this one.