It’s not the one with your name on it; it’s the one addressed “to whom it may concern” you’ve got to think about.
There’s something disquieting about the subtle changes people undergo when they’re ambitious, stressed and insecure. Recruiting time is here, leading untold top-rate consultancies and “industry” firms (anything not dealing with investments, starting your own business or consulting is “industry”, apparently) to descend on our little slice of heaven like a swarm of enthusiastic, suit-clad locusts, clutching briefcases laden with powerpoint slides, brochures and company-logo’ed pens — one of the relative newcomers to the fracas displayed an outstanding grasp of the issues at hand by bringing multicolored rubber duckies. Say what you will, that’s class.
In the corridors, one will inevitably pass groups of students nervously asking each other, “are you going to McKinsey? BCG? Bain? XYZ?” while attempting to remain cool in the face of piles of application letters, deadline stress, and maybe a sense of overpowering fundamental cluelessness regarding what they want to do with their professional lives. There’s tension in the air, and it’s become noticeable via subtle shifts in my colleagues’ demeanors. Every company presentation, cocktail event or round of “informal coffee chats” includes a behaviorally fascinating tableau of otherwise laid-back, intelligent, well-adjusted individuals putting on suits and slipping into a persona that just does not come across as natural. The slight changes in attitude to classmates when jockeying for position around company representatives (who, let’s face it, will not be the ones giving out jobs) and half-stifled jokes about competing for jobs are the surface symptoms of a tension that’s so thick you can taste it.
Most will deny that this happens to themselves, and many mock the somewhat artificial nature of the whole interview process, but at the end of the day, a bunch of companies, in varying degrees of attractiveness as employers, put on a dog-and-pony show and provide a set-piece forum for candidates to present themselves in the best light possible. Unfortunately, from a third person’s point of view, the sort of formality and forced interest this brings forward doesn’t necessarily represent the best that some of these people have to offer. Sadly. Relax, guys.
At times, I feel like an outsider looking into something I can’t and don’t want to be a part of; legions of navy-clad future careerists doing their utmost to fit into a hierarchy and justifying to recruiters and themselves why they would be a perfect match for company X. It’s odd, walking through the midst of all this flurry of activity, being the odd man out by not attending informational events and interviews (not much point, really — none of these fields are ones I could see myself working in, and they probably wouldn’t have me anyway.) I end up among those who’re either well on their way to starting their own businesses, or who have a job to go back to. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m probably too old and too exotic, whatever that entails, for the formal on-campus recruiting for initiate-level consulting and management traineeship position, and have been doing my damndest to build a network in my chosen fields outside school.
It’s a frustrating process, and one that has led me to re-evaluate whether the vaunted INSEAD alumni network, at least in my case, really is up to snuff. I’m fighting the instinct, something that’s not helped much by my recent lack of a good night’s sleep, to become a bit sniffy about what I see as lacking reciprocity in job-search help. Screw it, though, it’s my instinct to give people contacts, assistance on their cover letters, whatever — if it doesn’t come back, I’ll at least have something to feel good about.
I do wish more of the alumni or other linkedin contacts would get back to me. One particular gentleman, working for a company I am not considering as an employer (geographical limitations) stands out — our career services group referred me to him as a potential good source of information. My request for a few minutes to ask questions about the industry was answered with “we’re not hiring MBAs, except for finance and marketing positions. But you can send me your CV and I’ll see what I can do.” Do I seem that desperate? Great…
If I had a dollar — scratch that, a Euro — for each time someone has told me I’m ahead of the game for knowing what industries I’d like to go into (two out of three of which, luxury tourism & hospitality and computer games being sadly underrepresented on campus and among alumni) I wouldn’t actually need a job. I’ve decided, though, that I might as well go for broke and try to get into a field which, at least on the surface, interests me personally, something where I could see myself looking forward to getting up in the morning and going to work, in an industry that I already know a reasonable amount about. So why the hell can’t I get contacts? When a colleague of mine with a few years of cardiac surgery is stressing about employment, where does that put me? I mean, a goddamm heart surgeon should be able to get pretty much any job he wants, no?
Grades for P3 have just come out, and I’ve managed to just scrape past (well, minus a few hundredths of a point) my core requirements. Not bad, considering I was close to wetting myself at the thought of having to go through the concentrated misery of re-taking a load of exams in subjects that nearly drove me to depression. Still, it’s a bit discouraging knowing that I’m not an idiot, and I put a boatload of work, more than I’ve ever worked before, into this stuff — and according to “the system”, I’m below average. Kind of puts things into perspective.
Life goes on, the terrified midnight bouts of insomnia now being more caused by panic over failing finances and job prospects rather than academic performance. I just wish that at some point during this merry adventure, I could sit back and relax and enjoy the ride a bit — it’s not meant to happen. Time marches on.
