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Can you guess what I find hardest about job-hunts? Hints: not the physical sending of the resumes, which I dutifully send out even knowing that I'm qualified for only about half of the jobs I apply for; not the fact that I can send out 15 resumes and get maybe one response (if I'm lucky).
The thing that I find really difficult is the tricksy self-promotion of the cover letter.
Here's the thing: I am a naturally modest person, naturally an introvert. I prefer so much to be a background worker that people are frequently surprised to find that I can do a certain thing. "But you never said you could do that!" they say; the assumption here is that if you are able to do something you do it or talk about it openly and frequently. (Which in fact most people do, though I did not realize this for an inexcusably long length of time.) I'm not secretive, mind; I am perfectly willing to talk about a thing if someone brings it up. But being me, I feel I must wait for that tacit permission before speaking up.
And my MO as an employee is: if something is required of you, just do it, quietly and without fuss, as quickly as possible. If you don't know how to do it, learn. If you have to teach yourself to do it, get the books and read them, or take a class, or otherwise seek the training you need. If it wasn't your job before, it is now. And I've discovered, much to my surprise, that in the workplace not only do most people not work like this -- I say surprised because to me this seems by far the most proficient way to complete any task -- but also, it is not particularly appreciated as a skill. If you do your job quietly and without chafing, apparently people think you're not enthusiastic. If you handle an emergency without collapsing into an ineffectual panic, you're not taking the emergency seriously. If you can do something without forming a committee over it, or if you do it in a way that subverts current inefficient committee policy, you're not a team player.
I give to you an equation which takes these lessons to heart: (my overall value as an employee) + (my enthusiasm for the job at hand) + (my natural reserve) = a stalemate that's difficult to break, and I struggle over it with every letter I write. Every letter I write, I have to decide how far, exactly, I need to step out of character, how much I can get away with telling the truth about who I am professionally. And I hate to do this. Hate it, hate it, hate it.
I recently read a pair of articles in conjunction: one letter of advice to someone asking how much to disguise his own introversion in employment personality tests (answer: try to come across as being very mildly introverted, since these tests are designed to pick up on hyperbolic overcompensations), and an article of the type one sometimes sees, about how by nature extroverts are ill-equipped to understand or empathize with introverts, while introverts are by nature easily able to understand and empathize with extroverts.
I have been chafing at the unfairness of this. Resentful about it. Casting aside any standards of modesty: I am a valuable employee. I am productive and efficient and discreet and patient and tactful, and, when I have to be, am excellent at customer service, friendly and unthreatening and ego-free. Why do I have to fudge the details about who I am in order to be seen as a worthy candidate? It isn't fair that the people who get the jobs are not necessarily the ones best qualified, or the ones best suited temperamentally to the work, but the ones who can sell themselves most effectively. And I understand that I would probably resent this a lot less if I were actually any good it; but I like to think that I'd still resent it at least a little even if I were an ace self-promoter.
Because why should I have to pretend to be anything other than what I am in order to get a job, damn it? This is the question that I ask myself when I'm writing those letters.
God, I hate looking for a job.
:::
Also, I have just noticed that there is a huge spider carcass in the middle of my living room floor.
The thing that I find really difficult is the tricksy self-promotion of the cover letter.
Here's the thing: I am a naturally modest person, naturally an introvert. I prefer so much to be a background worker that people are frequently surprised to find that I can do a certain thing. "But you never said you could do that!" they say; the assumption here is that if you are able to do something you do it or talk about it openly and frequently. (Which in fact most people do, though I did not realize this for an inexcusably long length of time.) I'm not secretive, mind; I am perfectly willing to talk about a thing if someone brings it up. But being me, I feel I must wait for that tacit permission before speaking up.
And my MO as an employee is: if something is required of you, just do it, quietly and without fuss, as quickly as possible. If you don't know how to do it, learn. If you have to teach yourself to do it, get the books and read them, or take a class, or otherwise seek the training you need. If it wasn't your job before, it is now. And I've discovered, much to my surprise, that in the workplace not only do most people not work like this -- I say surprised because to me this seems by far the most proficient way to complete any task -- but also, it is not particularly appreciated as a skill. If you do your job quietly and without chafing, apparently people think you're not enthusiastic. If you handle an emergency without collapsing into an ineffectual panic, you're not taking the emergency seriously. If you can do something without forming a committee over it, or if you do it in a way that subverts current inefficient committee policy, you're not a team player.
I give to you an equation which takes these lessons to heart: (my overall value as an employee) + (my enthusiasm for the job at hand) + (my natural reserve) = a stalemate that's difficult to break, and I struggle over it with every letter I write. Every letter I write, I have to decide how far, exactly, I need to step out of character, how much I can get away with telling the truth about who I am professionally. And I hate to do this. Hate it, hate it, hate it.
I recently read a pair of articles in conjunction: one letter of advice to someone asking how much to disguise his own introversion in employment personality tests (answer: try to come across as being very mildly introverted, since these tests are designed to pick up on hyperbolic overcompensations), and an article of the type one sometimes sees, about how by nature extroverts are ill-equipped to understand or empathize with introverts, while introverts are by nature easily able to understand and empathize with extroverts.
I have been chafing at the unfairness of this. Resentful about it. Casting aside any standards of modesty: I am a valuable employee. I am productive and efficient and discreet and patient and tactful, and, when I have to be, am excellent at customer service, friendly and unthreatening and ego-free. Why do I have to fudge the details about who I am in order to be seen as a worthy candidate? It isn't fair that the people who get the jobs are not necessarily the ones best qualified, or the ones best suited temperamentally to the work, but the ones who can sell themselves most effectively. And I understand that I would probably resent this a lot less if I were actually any good it; but I like to think that I'd still resent it at least a little even if I were an ace self-promoter.
Because why should I have to pretend to be anything other than what I am in order to get a job, damn it? This is the question that I ask myself when I'm writing those letters.
God, I hate looking for a job.
:::
Also, I have just noticed that there is a huge spider carcass in the middle of my living room floor.
