When I decided last summer to look for work outside of academe, a vast field of possibilities opened before me, so vast it was both exhilarating and daunting. Every day I would wake up with a different idea about what I wanted to do. One morning it was consulting, the next it was nonprofit work, and the next I wanted to be a freelance writer.
Not being a U.S. citizen, I also wondered whether I wanted to stay in this country, go back to my home country of Colombia, or even explore other geographies. At that point I appreciated the flexibility that being single afforded me, while at the same time I felt it would be great to have a partner who would contribute some structure to my uncertain journey.
So when I walked into the career-services office at Princeton University (where I earned my Ph.D. in ecology), it was with a confused mind but plenty of optimism. To my great surprise, many career paths seemed within my reach: Management consulting, nonprofit work, education, and science journalism were just some of the options. I didn't want to spread myself too thin, so I decided to focus on just a few possibilities.
Initially I was attracted most to management consulting and nonprofit work. In the first case, I'll admit I was lured by the promise of great compensation. After graduate school my finances were not in great shape, and consulting seemed like a quick fix. In the second case, I was attracted by the prospect of doing socially meaningful work, of "fighting the good fight." This apparent contradiction was particularly hard to explain when my friends asked about my plans. I figured I would give both Jekyll and Hyde a chance, and let the Tao of the universe decide.
At that point I was introduced to the joys of writing résumés and cover letters. A side benefit of that time-consuming task was that I was forced to do a little research on myself. Somehow, during my doctoral training, I had forgotten many of my interests and skills, probably because they did not seem relevant to my academic work. Applying for jobs was, in many ways, an exercise in introspection. In the process of hyping myself to potential employers, I became aware once again of my own interests and talents. My self-esteem and confidence grew stronger, as I realized I really had a lot to offer.
My first foray into the nonacademic realm was for a management-consulting job. I went to the information session of a top-tier consulting firm, and was very impressed by how slick and polished the consultants were. Their message was simple: We don't care what your field is, as long as you are very smart, personable, willing to work very long hours, and to live half of your life on the road. I submitted my résumé and a couple of personal experience essays, and was invited for an "Interview Workshop." There I had to take a problem-solving exam (and I thought the GRE would be my last standardized test), and participate in a group interview with other applicants. I made it through that second filter and was invited for the next round of interviews.
In the interim, I was contacted by consultants from some of the company's different offices, courting me to include their branch in my geographic preferences. I was also invited to have dinner with people from the New Jersey and the New York offices in a fancy restaurant in Manhattan. Suddenly I felt very important, and wondered if the other candidates were receiving as much attention.
Maybe this could really happen, I could actually become a slick corporate Samurai, rubbing shoulders with Fortune 500 CEO's. If only I could get through the remaining case interviews. I bought some books, and role-played with friends the art of solving problems you know nothing about (or at least of sounding convincing to your clients). My prospects seemed good.
I arrived at the company's New York headquarters with my best suit and a designer haircut. I went through three interviews in which I was asked to praise myself to the heavens, solve the profit problems of "Happy Burger" and other fictitious companies, and "estimate" the size of the market for gourmet toothpaste.
I faltered a little bit when asked to do arithmetic under pressure (I can derive the diffusion equation, but don't ask me what percentage is 9 of 63), but overall I felt I had done a solid job. The next day the phone call came. "I'm sorry, we cannot pursue your candidacy any further." Ouch. Mr. Hyde was pretty bummed out.
In the aftermath of that rejection, I took the time to review the whole experience and what my feelings had been throughout. It was not terribly nerve-racking, but I did find myself stretching hard to become what the employer wanted me to be. I had to act the part of the consultant, and it didn't flow naturally. Throughout I was also thinking, "I'll do this job for a couple of years, save lots of money, and then do something I really want to do." I realized that the fear of not having money was making me delay the time when I would pursue something that would really fill my heart. I now think it may have been a blessing that I was not offered the job. Or maybe that's just my way of coping with rejection.
So, I began to be less inclined toward management consulting and more toward nonprofit work. I cancelled an interview with another big wig of the consulting world, and jumped on a plane to California. I spent a week by the ocean, away from everything, just giving myself a chance to hear my inner voice. I feel that I am at a crossroads in my life, and the path I choose now will set the tempo for many years to come. I want to choose carefully.
In my next column I will write about my exploration of jobs in the nonprofit sector, as well as jobs outside the United States. I will also tell you how this journal of my job search that I am writing for The Chronicle became a factor in my quest for a meaningful career.
