It's 1997, and some of you have started thinking about getting a job.
Sooner or later most of us have to exchange one set of neuroses for another, shuck our cowls and leave the cloister behind. As a worker bee ever since dropping from sight during grad school, a veteran of numerous inexplicable layoffs and an irresistibly avuncular voice in these pages, I thought I'd offer some advice on your first corporate gig.
Q: My roommate's dog thinks it's hilarious to bark uncontrollably whenever I pick up the phone. This makes it hard to convince potential employers that I'm calling from my current $50,000 a year position, as my resume attests. What should I do?
A: The secret is the soporific herb valerian, readily available at health-food stores and prescribed since antiquity to calm hysterical women. Valerian sends dogs into REM sleep in minutes. In fact, if you suspect your roommate of having deliberately trained her dog to bark at you, slip a bolus of valerian into her morning coffee before an exam. The only thing is, valerian smells like cats.
Q: I've attended half a dozen regional career fairs without results. What am I doing wrong?
A: Career fairs, in which people with perfect hair jam their resumes into boxes labeled "recyclable," are actually a test of mettle. The organizers want to see which candidates have the nerve to break the rules. To stand out in the crowd, prepare your resume in brightly colored inks on a non-recyclable paper such as laminated cardboard.
You see, the automatons who run Career Fair booths won't know what to do with anything that doesn't fit their model of normality, so they'll pass it upstairs to a manager. To guarantee their complicity, a $20 bill paper-clipped to the resume couldn't hurt, either. Similarly, you should also dress differently from the other applicants; I have found a muumuu works well to attract attention.
Q: What books should I read to help me find a job?
A: Theodore Dreiser's "Sister Carrie" and George Orwell's "Down and Out in Paris and Lon-don." If these books don't convince you to cut your throat, you'll be ready to accept absolutely any offer that comes along.
Q: I saw a Ph.D. I know huddled over a bonfire outside the Employment Security Commission. The people sharing his barrel didn't look too friendly. Should I have offered him money?
A: No. He would only have gone off and spent it on something stupid-like a laminated cardboard resume. The other people around his bonfire, incidentally, were government employees from the Commission. They're not paid to be friendly.
Q: Last week, my dad, who's worked in middle management for 19 years, was called into a meeting and told his company was re-engineering. They wouldn't sack someone with his experience, would they?
A: Yes. They may be hiring new people hand-over-fist, but the new guys are younger and cheaper than your pop.
Q: That explains the officer with the pistol Dad said was waiting for him in his cubicle the next day. Should he have resisted?
A: Only if he's very quick on the draw himself. Remember, these people are professional human resources employees. By the way, you might want to contact your dad's company to see if they could use you.
Q: I heard about something called the "buy and burn" strategy in high-tech companies, where they hire recent graduates for good salaries, expect them to work 60- or 70-hour weeks, and lay them off in a few years. How can I protect myself against this?
A: Only bad people get laid off. This "buy and burn" thing is a rumor started by a bunch of disaffected incompetents like your father.
Q: But what if I don't want to work 60 hours a week or more?
A: Reread "Down and Out in Paris and London." If this doesn't help, you'll be doing your potential employer a favor if you make it clear at interviews that you intend to work no more than 40 hours, not counting lunch breaks. This would also be a good time to mention your vacation requirements.
Q: If I'm offered coffee during an interview, should I accept it?
A: Not if it smells like cats.
Paul Baerman, Fuqua '90, is a former University employee.
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