Raise your hand if you’ve had a conversation in your lifetime that would qualify more as a defining moment than a conversation. Yes? Then you will know exactly where I’m coming from with the story I am about to tell.
Back in the day when writing a résumé required thoughtful precision (no spell check), a trip to the library (no company Google searches), expensive “bond” paper and envelopes – plus postage – the economics of time and money begot frugality. We sent résumés selectively and infrequently. My, how things have changed.
A hiring manager’s job back then was to read (yes, actually read) each submitted résumé to determine a candidate’s fitness for a position. Not any more.
When I entered high school four decades ago (yikes!) the first lesson I learned wasn’t extracted from a bio lab or a book of American poems. It was more of a pop psychology lesson: Being social is easier and more fun than being studious. So, I redirected my energies and focus from books to boys.
This was the late-70s, before weekly progress reports and 24/7 digital school portals, so it took a while for my parents (both trained educators) to pick up on their formerly studious daughter’s about-face. When they did, they seemed more perplexed than upset. Mom took me to lunch one afternoon for a heart-to-heart. Was I struggling? (No.) Was I overwhelmed by such a big school? (Definitely not.) Would I, perhaps, rather go to the all-girls Academy of the Sacred Heart a few towns over? (OMG, are you kidding?!)
I remember the day very well. The place – an outdoor bistro, the lunch – full of greens and delicious, the time – alone with my mom, not rushed, a real treat in our big family. But, it seems, I blocked out a big piece of that conversation (which my mother shared with me years later, much to my horror).
Recently, I’ve had a number of male clients ask me how to bring more woman-leaders into their organizations. I don’t care that this might be a knee-jerk response to current events; I’m just thrilled to have the conversation. “Want to bring more women into your organization?“ I ask them. “Try recruiting at a PTO meeting.”
One of my earliest and all-time favorite clients is a woman named Carol.
Carol left her job as a senior corporate trainer for a national retailer to stay home and raise three sons. Her youngest was just entering kindergarten when we met.
Warm, animated and excited about going back to work, Carol impressed me instantly. But she’d been out for over ten years, her company no longer existed, and the only recent job on her résumé was part-time spritzer – the person who indiscriminately “samples” perfume on you as you enter a large department store. (I don’t think stores employ them anymore, but they were big in the ‘80s and ‘90s).
I was new to the coaching and placement world, Carol’s skills were narrow and dated, her experience didn’t align with the industries in our area, and that spritzing job she’d taken just to get out of the house was no asset. I wasn’t optimistic.
Then,
I love coaching a woman right before she heads off for an interview. There is just something about the vulnerable excitement that fills my office when prepping and pumping a woman up to go rock an interview.
I believe there is a very distinct difference between the prepping and the pumping when it comes to being interview-ready. The prepping is about rehearsing what you can DO on the interview to be memorable and unforgettable. It is so very important to be clear, articulate and well rehearsed on the content you will deliver. Susan wrote a great blog about this a few weeks ago; you must check it out! However, the pumping is equally important and places a focus on who you want to BE on the interview. It is about your mindset and getting that mindset right and ready to show those interviewers the amazing powerhouse they would be lucky to land.
There are 5 key components that are foundational in creating an empowered mindset for interviewing, and I have them here to share with you.
On a recent shoot with our local ABC affiliate (WTNH) in New Haven, CT., Kelley and I were pleasantly surprised by a question from reporter Sarah Cody’s trusty cameraman, Mike Piskorski. When the interview was over and we were returning to our posts, Mike, who’d been appropriately quiet for 45 minutes, piped up: “I have a question for you, ladies.” He cleared his throat. “Is there anything I can do to help my wife as she considers returning to work?”
“You bet, Mike!” we responded, delighted by his question and nearly choking on our green teas at the thoughtfulness of it. If you, too, are the spouse of an aspiring career-returner, consider the four tips we offered Mike:
The older I get, the smaller the world gets. What used to be six degrees of separation now feels like three. Sometimes less. A few weeks ago, Bob and I ran into two couples on the beach (parents, daughter, son-in-law, we soon learned) and upon making introductions, I instantly recognized the older woman as a freelance writer who had come to me 20 years earlier seeking career placement help.
I remembered her name, her career history, even where and what she was writing at the time. This surprised her; it surprised me, too.
And it got me thinking: I’ve interviewed literally thousands of people over my long career. Most I forget over time. Some I forgot the next day.
What was it about Bernadette that made her memorable?
What makes ANY candidate memorable?
I think it boils down to seven things. Keep them in mind the next time you interview.
Ladies, summer is here! You beautiful, courageous, power-houses that create the vision for everyone in your orbit. I know you have been busy. Summer and life are sweeping you in various directions, I am sure. Life has done the same for me. Isn’t it funny how life does that? However, I always have time for you and I have lots of juicy questions for you. So let’s get busy, shall we?
I am newly independent, but I’m not celebrating. On Monday, my husband Bob and I joined the ranks of empty-nesters when we dropped our son Luke off at the U.S. Military Academy at West Point. His departure was early (6:00 a.m.) and abrupt (30 seconds to say ‘goodbye’), and the separation feels permanent. Luke is no longer ours, I’ve been told by those in the know. “He belongs to the army.” Ouch.
