I Am Not My Tie
In the spring of 1997, almost two years out of college and having spent that time working a depressing job at a small, dying bookstore chain, I had to spend many months looking for my first “real” job. I sent out résumé after résumé from January through late April, before a publishing company finally called me for an interview at their corporate office park.
After a three-hour drive, I arrived wearing a suit and tie, with spare copies of my résumé in hand, and a small notepad to jot down names and contact information for the people who interviewed me, as well as any information about the work itself. They had booked me for a busy day, with at least a half-dozen interviewers and very few breaks.
The interviews got progressively harder as I worked my way up the ranks. At times, I felt like I was up against people who weren’t just being hard on me to see how I would react – they were being hard on me out of genuine skepticism about my knowledge and skills. Having read all the books about job interviews, I continued to project confidence and enthusiasm, but I felt increasingly artificial. I felt like I wasn’t being myself. I was being some idealized role model of a job applicant. The experience was chafing at my sense of identity. I’m an informal person, much more open and honest, even if that openness and honesty sometimes undercut me.
By the time I was waiting to interview with the President of the group I would be working for, I already felt like the job interviews were blown and I had lost any chance at the position. I was getting tired of maintaining the job applicant persona. As I sat there waiting for him, I decided that I would just politely finish the interview with him and then leave.
The interview with the President started as a mere formality. I listened to him enthusiastically describe the initiatives the company was pursuing, what the position would offer both in its starting role and in potential for growing and moving up. He cited his own positive experiences and rise within the company. He asked me a few questions. I asked him a few questions. It was anticlimactic.
When we were obviously done, he asked me if I had any more questions. I thought for a few seconds about whether I really might have any questions about a job I wouldn’t get and I suddenly felt as if I was loosening up. I realized that, if it was lost, I didn’t need to keep up the stiff applicant persona any longer. I didn’t want to be a stiff applicant anyway. So I said, “Yeah, I do. Do you might if I relax and talk informally for a few minutes?”
He looked surprised by either the question or maybe some shift in my expression or posture, but he said “Sure, by all means.”
I reached up to my collar and unfastened my clip-on tie, saying, “I am not my tie.” That, of course, brought an even more notable look of surprise, followed by a smile.
I launched into an explanation of how I had read the job advertisement and thought “I can do this,” but that the interview process had left me feeling as if I would not be getting the chance – and that was okay. I just wanted to talk openly and honestly about how to better prepare myself for the next interview in the corporate world. Such sudden moments of self-reflexivity and “openly dissecting the process” are, by the way, a recurring motif in the turning points in my life.
We had a great conversation after that moment. The divisional President became more genuinely inquisitive about my college years and professional aspirations. Moreover, I felt like I could ask him questions as one human to another human, egalitarian and collegial. He also asked me to sit down next to him and look at one of the company Web sites together, giving me a tour of the product and then giving me an assignment to go home and write up a thorough analysis of the site.
I still walked out thinking I had blown it with most of the folks who interviewed me, but thought I might at least be getting some guidance that would help me in my next interview at another corporation. I did the assignment and sent the report. I also sent the follow-up thank you letters to my interviewers. A couple of weeks passed without any further contact. Then I got a call asking me to come back and interview for another round.
For the second round, I still wore my tie. Nevertheless, I was not my tie. I still am not my tie.
For more of my thoughts about ties, you may also want to read “Tie One On.”
October 17th, 2008 at 11:26 am
[...] in storage. I have told family and friends to get it out for my funeral when the time comes – no ties for me! My original tie-dyed Ralph Lauren Polo shirt, a pair of Levi’s jeans, and my Teva sandals will be [...]