Do I want to work here?

I began knowing little about job searching in general. Or about the position I’d like to find. My father suggested What Color is Your Parachute?, by Richard Bolles, as a decent starting place. Creepy, oddball cover photo aside, this book proved a wealth of information addressing my career search ineptitude. This ignorance alleviated, I was able to begin effectively answering the second question (which is really the first)–what do I want to do? Or, practically speaking, what is it called?

With 5-6 months to go this school year, I decided it should likely be my last year in the classroom (reasoning for that decision here). Having previously experienced the stress of a truncated job search, I resolved to begin developing a plan of action as quickly as possible. Bolles’ book empowered me in this aim. I had previously viewed job interviews as a lesser version of my Bema seat evaluation, and I had no understanding of informational interviewing beyond the term itself.

The informational interview–the first date, or a step before that even (eyes meeting across a crowded room or drinks after work, perhaps?). Sitting squarely in the midst of the school year, I had negative free time to compose cover letters, fill out applications, and arrange interviews for jobs I had no interested in taking yet. Besides, why clutter recruiters’ mailboxes prematurely and make them ignore or discard more of my letters than absolutely necessary? Informational interviewing, differentiated from basic networking by the amount and type of knowledge you aim to accumulate (and the overarching outcomes you’re seeking), provided incremental, meaningful steps in the nascent months of my search. Before applying to a company or specific position, I seek out friends and connections (even once or twice removed) familiar with the industry, company, or position (ideally someone currently or recently IN all of the above). Meeting or chatting in a low-pressure setting, I get to learn whether I want to work–if I want this job–or not.

It may seem simply, painfully obvious, but this was a revelation to me. Of course, in theory, I knew that I got to decided as well. Certainly I didn’t have to apply for a job or take it if offered. But I’d never operated as if this were true. I acted like my role was to throw myself in front of companies with abandon, seek out merciless judgement, beg for approval, and then approach despair whenever I met with rejection. As crazy as it sounds to write that out, those are startlingly accurate descriptors of how I’d approached job searching in the past–and of how I see most people my age quixotically throw themselves at the process.

Realigning my view of Omnipotent Interviewer to something more akin to dating, I realized each side was taking ever-increasing risks in interacting and dancing towards a working relationship. Forms, applications and interviews are often (not always: certain qualifications are clearly vital, especially in fields heavy with licensure and regulations) more about building trust in an awkward vacuum, only just removed from anonymity. If you can inspire or otherwise foster trust in other ways, it’s often possible to circumvent or supercede other, more preliminary dating steps. It’s also an indispensable way to meaningfully distance yourself from the crowd.

We should probably stop torturing the dating metaphor at this point. Otherwise, I’ll end up recommending you elope with your best friend’s sister (allegorically speaking). But you get the idea: two parties, both making themselves vulnerable in measured, guarded increments, requiring some sort of validation or reassurance before engendering further intimacy. My question no longer reads: “Will you please hire me?”. Instead, I’m asking: “Do I want to work here? Do I fit? Can we work together?”, and I realize potential employers are making similar inquiries about me.