Anonymous Shaming: Viable Method of Etiquette Reform?

During my job search, one of the things that’s maddened me the most is the lack of response to inquiries from prospective employers. “Closure” is a hokey, overused term, but maybe that’s because the concept is so valid. Maybe Heisenberg enjoyed contemplating a state of uncertainty, but I sure don’t. And neither do my friends, who get to hear my whining on the phone about how I still haven’t heard back from so-and-so, even though I am so clearly the best candidate, boo-hoo.

As I’ve noted, completing an online job application is like dropping it down a virtual black hole; e-mailing an application barely differs. Although I agonize about hearing from HR managers to set up an interview, I honestly don’t expect them ever to respond if they’re not interested. Occasionally, I do get a form e-mail or even a real snail mail letter, sent weeks or months after I’ve forgotten that I even applied; in fact, I just got one this week. When that occurs, I definitely give these people points for their courtesy, if not their job-hiring savvy.

However, once someone has actually contacted me and interviewed me, by phone, in person, or both, then yes, I do expect you to let me know that you’ve hired someone else. Or, at the very least, respond to my e-mail asking what the status of the job is. I can’t tell you how many times that I’ve had incredibly responsive employers suddenly turn dead silent once the job is closed. All of a sudden, promising job candidate is now persona non grata. An unperson. I’m just like that Norwegian blue parrot (lovely plumage), only less funny.

I find that behavior unspeakably rude. Once you’ve reached the interview stage, the number of prospective hirees is so reduced that it really shouldn’t be too much trouble to send out a form e-mail to all of the losers–sorry, the poor, unsuccessful applicants–telling them that the job is filled, thanks very much. The sort of thing that most job-hunting veterans refer to as the FOAD letter (since I’m keeping things mostly clean, I leave it to you to figure out the acronym if you don’t know it).

A dear friend of mine, whose ears I have drowned with this repeated plaint, always responds quite bluntly. No, they don’t owe you anything. Yes, this is common behavior today. Get. Over. It. While I’ve never quite agreed with point one, I agree vehemently with point three (intellectually, if not emotionally, anyway), and have done my best to come to terms with point two. In fact, I stole her response and used it in my Vook, Ace the Job Interview. Perhaps I put it slightly more diplomatically. Slightly.

Apparently, though, there’s a site out there that has dedicated itself for the past three years to changing the status quo. If weeks have gone by and you’ve heard nothing from your interviewer, spread some moral indignation around by visiting Email Your Interviewer. It will send your no-longer-prospective employer an anonymous e-mail which politely informs the interviewer that not getting back to interviewees is cruel and unprofessional.

I love the idea, but frankly, I think it would be too risky for me ever to put it into practice. I mean, what if they figured out it was me? The site does offer the caveat that it’s probably not a good idea to try this when the interview pool is small and the employer is tiny. I think even if the employer isn’t tiny, they would probably associate the e-mail with whoever’s been most persistent lately in following up. Which is probably me.

Also, I think I am far too cynical to imagine that someone who’s too busy or too professionally detached or too worried about legal repercussions to send out a simple “Sorry, we found someone whose skills better fit our needs,” e-mail will have an “Amazing Grace”/Saul of Tarsus moral conversion to the Interviewer Path of Righteousness.

And, of course, sending the e-mail is certainly not going to get me any closer to my actual goal, which is getting a darn job already. Hmm. Just. Moving. On. is sounding better all the time. Maybe.

Share

Office Omens

My co-worker’s pen ran out of ink, and he suggested it was a sign of how his day was going. I wonder if it would be possible to create an entire art of divination out of office supplies? Surely, there is great significance in the jamming of a stapler. Running out of post-it notes at a critical moment suggests that things will soon be sticky (or perhaps unsticky). Could you replace yarrow stalks with bent paper clips to perform an Office I Ching?

Definitely something to ponder.

Share

Max Headroom, Could You Find Me a Job?

I am grimly unsurprised by a Wall Street Journal article publicizing a new book on how hard it is to find jobs these days. The article particularly points to ridiculous, ultra-specific hiring requirements and the impossibility of satisfying the job-screening software that so many companies rely upon these days. You have to incorporate just the right number of keywords from the job ad, while adding a soupçon of original content, so that if your webmail manages to satisfy the system and actually reaches a real (and hopefully not burned out) HR person, you sound like a human being instead of a job-seeking bot that probably came from the same factory as the recruiting software. The quirky, personality-filled cover letter is dead.

There’s probably a perfect heuristic out there to get your application read; it must be similar to the one used by that guy who figured out how to avoid the Whammys on Press Your Luck. I feel certain someone’s already in business out there, coaching desperate applicants how to game the system.

If you manage to successfully fill out an online job app (half the time, the system gets upset that you tried to attach a PDF version of your resume instead of a Word version and erases the hour’s worth of filling out all those little blank fields), it’s like dropping that application into a black hole. Some software offers a tracking option, so you can view your progress, which usually leads me to obsessively visit and revisit the job site. I’ve concluded that the tracking option is basically a dummy button: You’re happy to press it, but it’s not really connected to anything. There almost never seems to be a moment where my application ever gets the status of “under consideration” or “procession”–it goes from “new” to “job closed” with no obvious transition.

This is probably because while some section of a server somewhere gradually fills up with job applications from qualified people, someone’s cousin has just snagged that interview.

I can do all the online job applying, Klout score raising, and general virtual networking in the world, but if I don’t reach a physical person, nothing’s going to happen. It’s amazing how some things just don’t change in this Brave New Digital World, isn’t it?

Share

No, you aren’t too good to order lunch.

Here’s an interesting and sad example of Toilet Paper Fairy Belief from a low-level employee writing to Dear Prudence (see the first letter below the video). She thinks she’s set appropriate boundaries by demurring when a senior member of her company asked her to fetch lunch for an important client meeting. Already resentful to be asked to do something not explicitly in her job description (the subtext is that this is a menial task that’s beneath her stellar abilities), Toilet Paper Fairy Believer seethes further when the hour appointed to purchase lunch goes by and she’s not given money or instructions. And so it is that she’s in the midst of consuming her own lunch when the exec pops into the break room and thrusts some cash at her. I admit, that might be not be most polite approach from the exec, but TPFB makes matters worse by upping the rudeness ante: she actually “waves [her] sandwich” at the exec, indicating that she is at lunch and is therefore not available. This forces the exec to go get the lunch, and, naturally peeved, she follows up by demanding that of TPFB’s boss that the young lady be fired. Amazingly and extremely fortunately, her boss refuses to fire her.

I give TPFB enough credit to finally question whether her actions were appropriate, and Dear Prudence quite rightly explains that they were not, and that in fact, TPFB dodged a bullet here. It’s likely, however, that it may yet come back and slay her career, at least at her current company. Now that she’s made an enemy of one of the Powers That Be, how likely is it that she’s ever going to advance and gain the title that she thinks ought to be bestowed upon her in a shower of rose petals?

The letter doesn’t mention if there is a support staff working there; she never really says whom she thought was going to fetch lunch in this scenario. In the absence of the Toilet Paper Fairy, the Lunch Fetcher Fairy, or some nameless flunky to wave her magic wand and conjure up sandwiches, how could TPFB seriously think it was appropriate for a senior exec to go get lunch instead of talking with the clients; you know, actually conducting business so that TPFB can continue to draw a salary? And if she’s really wondering whether she should’ve been assigned the responsibility of getting lunch, shouldn’t she have asked her boss about it prior to lunchtime, and certainly way before the senior exec called for TPFB’s firing?

It can be hard for recent graduates to understand that the world is not universally aware of their wonderfulness. Many smart kids expect to immediately be anointed Queen of the May and allowed to run the world, not realizing that a good brain and an expensive education are not enough in the workplace: You’ve simply got to add experience to that equation. I sympathize with the graduate’s blinkered viewpoint; sadly, my younger self sort of empathizes with that viewpoint. But most really interesting jobs are built on an apprenticeship system. Your boss is not just your boss, but your mentor; you watch what he/she does, and he/she gradually gives you more and more important work to do as you learn the ins and outs of your chosen field. The rest of your days are filled with phone answering, making copies, filling out other people’s expense reports, and yes, catering client lunches to which you are not invited.

You absolutely cannot assume that you are too good to do those tasks. Resentment of that type will, without a doubt, torpedo your climb up the ladder. And believe me, that kind of attitude will definitely be noticed, no matter how hard you try to hide it. On the flip side, willingness to pitch in, be flexible, and be a team player will also be noticed, but positively, if you’re working in a good office environment.

The important thing to do is glean what learning experiences you can from the drudgery. Filling out other people’s expense reports teaches you how to fill out your own when you’re finally vetted to represent the company in other locales. Answering your boss’s phone acquaints you with the client list, and may even allow you to develop your own important contacts. If you glance at those papers you’re copying, you may gain insight into advanced business dealings. And good eavesdroppers and observers may pick up useful tips about high-level corporate etiquette and the internal workings of one’s industry while setting out the sandwiches.

Share

Buy your own stupid shirts

I certainly don’t condone lying, but the first letter writer in today’s Dear Margo is far more of a victim than a perpetrator. She became friendly with someone “higher up the chain” at her self-described “dream job,” was invited to his birthday party but had to miss it due to illness, and promised to buy him a desired shirt during her family’s trip to Mexico as a belated birthday present. She ended up not visiting that part of Mexico, but the guy still wants his shirt (actually, two of them, and has helpfully provided her with a link where she can buy them)! Worse still, she’s realized that she can’t afford even one of the shirts and admitted that to him. Apparently, he won’t take no for an answer, though. What was she to do but lie and say the shirts were delayed?

It’s too bad that the LW has become trapped in a lie that will shortly be exposed when the shirts never show, but really, maintaining that “polite spine,” as they call it on Etiquette Hell, is particularly hard to maintain in a work situation. The bulk of the guilt truly falls upon her senior coworker, whose greed has put combined social and work pressure to bear on the poor LW. Friends don’t demand presents from other people; frankly, adults don’t demand presents from other people–if you want something that badly, go buy it for yourself. And an executive at an office especially shouldn’t be demanding expensive presents (if he looked at the website, he knows darn well what those shirts cost) from a lower-level employee.

This is a classic example of Toilet Paper Fairy Belief: In addition to forgetting how inappropriate it is for him to demand a present from someone who’s got to keep the higher-ups happy to stay in her job, he’s somehow forgotten about the salary disparity between himself and his junior; in this case, that junior is a full-time student working part time. It’s the same kind of thoughtlessness that leads the boss, who can easily afford to go out to eat every day, to steal his secretary’s lunch from the fridge. He’s completely unaware that the salary he pays her makes her unable to replace that lunch, and perhaps does not even care.

In this case, the LW’s family is apparently well-off enough to invite her to Mexico and presumably pay her way, but it’s incredibly presumptuous of her “work pal” to assume that they’re supporting her financially on a day-to-day basis, if he’s even thinking that deeply about the matter.

Unfortunately, unraveling this situation may have serious negative effects on the LW’s future at her “dream job.” Many times, it’s simply best to keep one’s social and professional lives as separate as possible.

 

Share

Do as I say, not as I do

As I mentioned yesterday, invasions into other people’s personal space at the office are very, very rude. That especially includes stinky food. For example, I brought sardines for lunch today. They’re very nice sardines from France, with a mustard sauce and everything, but still…sardines. I decided it was an acceptable risk as I’m in a fairly open office and sit fairly far away from others, and my breath is actually directed toward the window. I also ate two Altoids afterward.

But generally, particularly in tight quarters, don’t do this. I know that bringing kimchi into a shared office was perceived as a greater offense than almost setting the office on fire (I was testing science experiments for kids and learned that alligator clips+steel wool+batteries=fire. Glad that someone learned something.). And even an open-plan office was not a sufficiently wide space to make my choice of Thai squid a popular one among my coworkers.

So make your lunch choices carefully. You would think this would be obvious…but I’ve heard too many stories to know that it’s not.

Share

Too bad your personal bubble isn’t visible or tangible.

Then you could shield yourself from unwanted hugging and kissing as well as unwanted overexposure to highly scented body products. I don’t think human beings were meant to cram themselves into overcrowded cube farms; the least we can do is try not invade what little personal space others have left with our skin, our hygiene items, and our loud crunching noises.

Share

Social obligations

Interesting first letter in Sunday’s Carolyn Hax column: Should important work milestones be equivalent to important family/social milestones? And, of course, the important secondary question: Does friendship come with a balance sheet? While I don’t think it’s necessarily a good idea to keep track of how much money your friend has spent on you versus how much you’ve spent on her (you simply don’t know what someone else’s financial situation is), I definitely confess to keeping social balance sheets. This professional woman attended wedding events and what sounds like an enormous number of child-centered events for her friend; this is her first major event, and the letter writer should attend. On the other hand, if she expects the letter writer to attend every pricey event hereafter, she’s got another think coming.

Share

And in the Captain Obvious category…

…we have two threads on AskMetaFilter.

  1. If you run a small business and one of your employees is poaching your clients, you fire him. End of Story, except for the part where you get an employment lawyer to 1) Sue the guy and/or 2) Tighten up your business guidelines so this doesn’t happen again.

  2. Regardless of where you work, but especially if you work at a daycare center, do not go to work drunk. If you’re dumb enough to show up to work drunk, do not tell your coworkers that you are drunk. If you’re not actually drunk but perhaps slightly hung over, do not tell your coworkers that you are drunk. Stuff like that has a tendency not to stay confidential, particularly when adorable small children’s safety is at stake. OTOH, if you overhear a coworker saying she’s drunk, as did the poster in question, you’ve got a tougher problem to handle, especially if she’s not acting drunk. However, if she did her job competently that day, reporting her after the fact is not likely to lead to anything good, either for the person reported or the reporter. Better to just keep an eye on her in future and watch out for a repeat–at that point, do something that day, rather than wait until later to post on a message board.

 

Share

Life is not a movie.

If we were in the 9 to 5 or The Last Seduction universe, blackmail really would get you that promotion you wanted, with either comic or darkly satiric results, depending on which movie universe you were in. But, sorry, Dear Prudence Letter Writer (the one below the video about the much-tattooed lady), despite your oh-so-clever Manic Pixie Dream Girl reference, life is not a movie, unless you mean the really bleak kind where your plot to blackmail the boss and the evil wench who stole your job ends up with you getting fired and unable to collect unemployment, while the corrupt couple continues to do unthinkable things on the conference room table.

Share