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Accepting With Ambivalence

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By Kathryn Ryan

I have a new job. At the beginning of my search, my goal was to find a senior administrative position in academic affairs at an institution within commuting distance of my home, and I have achieved it.

And yet, when friends and colleagues ask about my new job, expecting an overwhelming show of enthusiasm, I am curiously ambivalent.

On the one hand, I have the appropriate comments prepared:

• About this being a great steppingstone back into academe after my detour into the corporate sector for the last several years.

• And about my relief at being able to plant myself firmly in a comfortable community after having relocated for one unsuitable position and then spent two years on the road as a consultant.

But with people I know a bit better, I am more honest. To them, I say that I don't entirely know how I feel about this move. Excited? Yes, a little. Let down? OK, somewhat. Scared? Yep, that would definitely apply.

Let's take the "letdown" sensation first. It's definitely the feeling I am least proud of. It is, nonetheless, an honest reaction and one that relates to ideas of institutional fit that I explored in my previous column.

You see, to be blunt, the position I've accepted is one I never thought I would want. I applied because it was a local university with a good reputation, but in reading the position description I really didn't think it was the right type of job for me. Instead, I had my hopes pinned on two other local colleges, where the positions (and the institutions themselves) had really piqued my interest. I was thrilled when both -- let's call them College A and College B -- called to invite me to an interview.

When I got the call to interview for the job I ultimately accepted (at College C), I agreed to go because I thought it would be a good experience. I never expected anything to come of it.

I interviewed at College A first. It was one of those all-day affairs at which you feel you've met half the campus by the time you're done. That feeling was heightened by the fact that I had done my graduate work at this institution -- so not only was I meeting half the people on campus, but also I was running into faculty and staff members I knew from my years there as a student.

I felt positive about the interview, thought I would enjoy the job, knew I would love the school, and really hoped to be selected.

No luck.

In the end, the college chose a candidate from an extraordinarily prestigious university, leaving me in the extraordinarily uncomfortable position of having been rejected for openings by not just one, but both of my alma maters (I lost out in a search at my undergraduate institution last year).

How do you not fit the institutions that shaped you?

An inside source suggested -- I believe candidly and truthfully -- that College A was looking for candidates whose professional experience was at institutions similar in prestige to itself. As one headhunter rather callously told me, "They want to hire their own." I bit my tongue to refrain from replying that the college was happy to claim me as its own when I was raising or donating money for its coffers.

Meanwhile, I was also moving forward in the interview process at College B -- a very different type of institution but, again, one that I knew well from my years in the area and that I respected for its commitment to growth and innovation.

I had what I thought was a positive first-round interview there and was waiting to hear whether I would make the cut as a finalist when things heated up with College C. Its interview process moved in a way that I always find strange, though I know it's not unheard of: College C spoke with four or five of my references before contacting me to say that I was one of the finalists.

The campus interview at College C required me to give a fairly lengthy presentation about the opportunities and threats facing the campus, and in the process of preparing it, I found myself more and more interested in the institution and the job. However, I still wasn't convinced it was what I wanted, so I allowed myself the luxury of preparing a candid assessment. I figured that if my comments didn't sit well with the search committee, that would be a pretty strong indicator that I shouldn't take the job.

Apparently my comments weren't too off-putting because College C offered me the job.

At the time, I was still hoping for a callback from College B, so I contacted the search committee there to see if I could use my offer as leverage to hurry things along a bit. No dice. Apparently I hadn't made its shortlist.

I had a few other applications out there, but nothing that was likely to come to fruition anytime soon. So I could either accept the only offer I had or, quite possibly, wind up with no academic job at all.

I hemmed, I hawed, I went back for more talks with members of the search committee, I asked for budgets, plans, more salary. In the end, I accepted the position because I couldn't see any good reason not to.

And I took it because as much as I might wish that I "fit" with institutions like my alma maters, I had to acknowledge that my professional experience made me very qualified to work for College C. Its profile closely mirrored the university at which I worked for several years after completing my doctorate.

Fit, it turns out, isn't related to who you once were but to who you became while you weren't paying attention.

So if this is familiar territory for me, why am I feeling scared to be starting a new job -- particularly one in academe? As I have mentioned in previous columns, I went into consulting after my last academic job turned out to be a spectacular mistake, one from which I am still recovering. As everyone around me acknowledges, it is only natural to feel wary about stepping back into academic waters.

However, as good friends and colleagues also helpfully remind me, my current situation is hardly comparable. The two institutions couldn't be more different. I'll be embarking on this professional move without the added stress of a geographic one, and I have done much more due diligence to assess what I'm really walking into. Those factors are reassuring, although they don't quite erase my fears.

Then, too, amid all of my mixed emotions, I feel a prickle of excitement -- a sensation that has, fortunately, grown stronger the closer I get to actually starting work.

Back in February, I really had to think about whether I wanted to give up the consulting work that I enjoy. But nine straight weeks of travel to clients has given me fresh perspective on the quality-of-life sacrifices that consulting work requires.

So I am starting to look around my community for opportunities I can pursue in my new role. As my start date nears, I am being included in communications from the institution that are giving me new -- and positive -- insight into the issues that are significant to faculty and staff members and into the ways they communicate with one another.

I haven't put my rose-colored glasses back on yet, but I am finding it easier to push aside the fear and disillusionment that I experienced on first accepting the offer. Perhaps a combination of optimism and pragmatism is the best mix of emotions one can bring to any new endeavor. If so, I'm ready to go.