Recruiting Pains

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If you are like most MBAs, by the fall of your second year, you are more seasoned and more confident. It is not uncommon to get on a plane immediately after an on-site interview and feel like you've nailed it. To deliver a single anecdote that conveys relevant experience, sound judgment, and a perfect fit for corporate culture is nothing short of brilliant. Your words play back with poetic genius, as well as imagery of a beaming interviewer before he vigorously shakes your hand, understandably convinced. These are thrilling times for business school students.



While you contemplate the good news of an upcoming job offer, it is polite to send your interviewers a note of appreciation. Logging into my e-mail account to do just this, I am pleasantly surprised to see that the company has beaten me to it. An e-mail with the subject line "Follow Up to Final Round Interview" waits in my inbox. Interestingly enough, it is not from the nice gentleman with whom I interviewed, the vice-president who promised to be in touch, or even the HR campus recruiter, with whom I've had primary contact. It is signed "East Coast Regional Recruiting." Following is a passage:



Dear Kate:



I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for your interest in our firm. There are many factors which we considered in the process of evaluating prospective candidates. After careful review of your application, it is with sincere regret that we are unable to offer you a position at this time. We believe that your credentials are impressive and wish you continued success.



Huh. As I read it again, I begin to interpret the message as a rejection letter. This can't be. I check the company name, the sender's domain address, the signature of this purported representative from East Coast Regional Recruiting. Is this person for real? My first instinct was to hit "Reply" and clear up the misunderstanding.



Dear Madam:



I have not had the pleasure to have made your acquaintance at any point in the recruiting process. Therefore, it is unlikely that you have been able to evaluate my application among your talented pool of applicants, and I believe you sent this message to me in error.



But secretly, I know that the sender of the e-mail need not know anything about me. This e-mail is not a case of mistaken identity, but the company's way of letting me down easy, saving me the humiliation of unexpected disappointment, and avoiding my making a scene.



Looking Back and Moving On

As denial subsides, my mind goes to work. I mentally replay the entire office visit -- every meal, every phrase, every interaction with everybody from the receptionist to the car driver -- in an attempt to retrace potential missteps in the process. Was I too specific on preferred location? Did I mispronounce someone's name? Would only a moron ask the questions that I had for them?



Not only is my ego bruised at this point, but my feelings are hurt. Before my interviews, I spent a great deal of time reading about the company, meeting current employees, and understanding the everyday challenges of the job. I wondered how a company that boasts passionate and dedicated employees can overlook my wholehearted enthusiasm. Oh, and whatever happened to Mike, the Johnson School alumnus, now a manager at the company? I thought he and I shared a great conversation. I thought he had input into the hiring decision. I thought he was my friend.



But the more I analyzed the situation, the more time I wasted. I figured that this incident was a good warmup, and that it was time to move on. After all, this wasn't internship interviewing. This was the real deal. I needed to be more assertive, more poised, and more persistent. I research, network like crazy, land a few more interviews, and finally make it to final rounds. Several weeks later, I hear back.



Dear Kate:



We are grateful to have the opportunity to speak with many accomplished candidates from top-rated schools such as yourself. Unfortunately, we do have a limited number of opportunities at this time, and we are unable to extend an offer to you.



Discouraging, but I remain steadfast. With a stack of fresh resumes, I decide to attend two of the largest annual recruiting conferences, sponsored by the National Black MBA Assn. and National Society of Hispanic MBAs. With hundreds of job postings, it will be hard to turn everyone down.



Dear Kate Ngo:



Thank you for applying for the position of Senior Strategic Strategy & Marketing Manager, requisition # 99752817855673QWDEB. After careful consideration, we regret to inform you that we will not be pursuing your candidacy.



Dang. What about in the event of future openings? You don't want to retain my information in your database for one year? I wish I could say that I am not alone, that my classmates also receive such notes, and that we are bound together by common circumstance, a weak economy, or a drop in the rankings.



But everywhere I look, Johnson students, particularly second years, are doing pretty darn well for themselves. Reported full-time offers, base salaries, and bonuses are unbelievable. Suit-and-tie interview apparel, being so first year, is rare and uncool. If you are caught dressed up, the only acceptable excuse is a shortage of clean clothes. With elective courses, better control over one's schedule, and deeper friendships, second year is less backbreaking and more enjoyable. For those like me who are still job searching, it's all very depressing.



Savvy Selling Yourself

"What you need to learn is how to sell yourself," my good friend Yvonne Chou lectures me. I don't say this to Yvonne, but yeah, tell me something I don't know. At business schools across the globe, this is a concept that is indoctrinated at orientation. Yvonne has a pattern of getting an offer from every company to which she applies, so I do not interject. Since I have a few upcoming interviews, all involving brand management or strategy, she also drills me for the next three weeks. We talk about new product launches, M&A cases, and times which I have failed, led a team, and analyzed large amounts of data. Such being our habitual state of conversation, I really hate recruiting.



Sometimes, in an interview setting, I also really hate myself. I once stated very fervently that I like to "go the extra mile" and included a fisted air-punch motion for emphasis. For one thing, I don't really say stuff like that, and I've always distrusted the stilted characters who do. However, being an MBA for over a year now, that sort of remark is picked up from multiple settings and cannot be easily avoided. And to be completely fair, it only slips out when I'm nervous.



Price of the "Perfect" Job

As it turns out, there is in fact a certain amount of anxiety in how I feel right now. A permanent full-time job is, well, so permanent. While the summer internship is a chance to try something risky, develop skills, and test unknown waters, full-time recruiting requires real introspection. To find the perfect job, I have to figure out my passion, the pace with which I want to advance my career, and -- in the long term -- what will make me truly happy.



Having weighed these factors for the past few months, it's becoming clear to me that my crankiness over recruiting does not originate from being rejected for a job. As everyone knows, rejection is not a business school reality but a life reality. In truth, I believe that I am my own cause of anxiety and crankiness. In the time and effort I invest to find my perfect job, I deprive myself of the same things that I want that perfect job to preserve -- my relationships, my personal interests, my expectations for quality of life. As obsessive as it may be, it is quite common in business school to ignore something attainable and stretch for something a little closer to perfect. One can argue that this approach only sets me up for failure. On the other hand, maybe I should've just checked my voicemail first.



"Hi, Kate, this is Jason from corporate headquarters. Please call me back at your earliest convenience. I'd like to share with you some good news "