I must confess. I've been dragging my feet a little in my search for a new job in university relations. I'm suffering from a kind of job-search ennui.
Oh, I've done some prep work. I bought a new eMac; my old reliable Power Mac 6100 finally went nuts and ate its printer connection. I've polished my résumé and tinkered with cover letters. I've printed out lots of enticing job ads. But not much more. On a lark, I did email my résumé and a quickie cover letter to a Monster.com listing for a high-paying marketing gig with Disney. I received an instant auto reply informing me I was one of thousands to respond. In the Internet age, it seems, job hunting has become the lottery.
In writing about my job search, I've come to realize that I actually like my current job. I have almost carte blanche autonomy, appreciative management, a loyal staff, and supportive co-workers. Not that there isn't a downside. My little community college is a workaholic's paradise. We're so lean and mean, that we could teach the private sector a thing or two about bone-weary productivity. As a government agency in a taxaphobic state, we are the model of skinflintery. We can't even resent the suits here because, with rare exception, they're working themselves to death, too. In such an economic straitjacket there is little opportunity for advancement or reward. And then there is upper management's obsession with rules, which strangle all initiative and motivation. Despite these major drawbacks, I could surrender to inertia and cruise until I'm old enough to collect my defined-benefit government retirement.
No, the real driving force motivating my job search is geography. I live in a place where dining means Denny's, shopping means Super Wal-Mart, and entertainment means exotic dancing. As much as I've come to appreciate Southern hospitality and the enduring charm of barrel-chested, back-slapping good old boys, I don't do rural. I love the big house and pool that I can afford on my Deep South salary, but I'd trade down to a townhouse in a New York minute to live within driving distance of big-city culture.
The trouble is, seamless relocation is practically impossible for middle-management types in academe. Believe me, I've tried. While the new technology streams the global marketplace into my home computer, most employers still need the old-fashioned reassurance of face-to-face contact before closing the deal. So, someone still needs to put up hard cash for airline tickets and housing for the interview. And that someone's not going to be me. With multiple candidates for any given job, we're talking a high stakes, out-of-pocket gamble. And then there's always the possibility that the job listing isn't even real.
In my old job at Southeast U., many faculty and staff members were hired into "acting" positions, including myself. It's a quick way to fill a necessary position without enduring long months of formal searching and EEO paperwork.
People are hired into these "acting" positions with the understanding that a year down the road, their job will be formally advertised. It's ironic that under the guise of ensuring fair employment opportunity, both the temporary job holder and the other applicants are treated unfairly in these circumstances. I felt bad for all the EEO dupes -- applicants who actually thought they might get my job -- as they were marched past my office, all dressed up, for their bogus interviews. Maybe I'm wrong, but I assume other colleges and universities play the "acting" game too. Not that I'd mind being an EEO poster child as a means to travel, but on someone else's nickel, thank you. Besides, I want to be considered valuable enough to warrant a potential employer's investment in an interview.
During my last job search, while I was still the magazine editor at Southeast U., I made many attempts to pursue jobs cross country. I just wasn't high enough up the food chain to be courted first class.
The University of Nevada at Las Vegas was interested, but wanted me to travel at my expense and, if hired, start working in two weeks. Impossible. I tried the vacation/job search route to no avail. Interrupting a romantic idyll down the Pacific Coast Highway, I quick-changed into a wrinkled suit and stormed the human-resources office of Cal State Sacramento in an unsuccessful attempt to interview face-to-face for an opening I had seen on an employment Web site. A hundred-mile detour for nothing.
Once, I did warrant a real interview at the employer's expense: a round-trip ticket to San Diego, a rental car, and dorm housing to interview at San Diego State University following a very successful telephone interview. I was sure that with that kind of investment, the job would be mine. It wasn't.
I've even been interviewed on closed-circuit television by colleges in Arizona and California: the poor man's face-to-face. I found that I enjoyed being interviewed by committee on television. It was much less stressful than facing a real group of complete strangers around a conference table. I was so good at it that I began to pretend I was on television during my face-to-face interviews. That was how I landed my current job. I wowed them in the interview. All I had to do was pretend I was on TV.
Now, I'm determined to hit the mail running. I've collected a file folder thick with ads from The Chronicle, and I'm hoping that this time I can graduate from coach into business class.
In my last career move, I pursued title and responsibility, moving up from a coordinator to a director. This time I'm looking for resources -- more staff and a bigger budget -- so I can finally see my marketing plans come to fruition.
After my first column appeared, I got mail via The Chronicle. Several middle-management PR people wrote to commiserate. The really great news is that my column caught the attention of a private college in California looking for a vice president of communications. I've been contacted by its search firm and we've exchanged identities. I'm hoping this will result in a face-to-face interview.
In the meantime, I'm rethinking my limits and may begin to pursue jobs I've assumed were out of reach. Vice president? Yeah. Why not?
