Posts Tagged ‘interview’

As one who has locked horns with corporate moghuls all my life I can tell you CV’s are OK but it is not what gets you a job. You have seen Pampalona Bull run? It is free for all. Job interviews are like the bull run. With a CV you get some mileage but as the interview gets going your tongue gets on and on,- you are not sticking to facts (Pardon,Jack Webb), you are outside the safety zone. You are treading on lot of bullshit. Out of so many applicants some get gored. In my case I am bored. I got to have some vital facts: like my salary,vacation time.
Let me tell you some hands on fact: both are put- offs.

In my case I always let curiosity get an early start. Like asking, ‘How much are you gonna pay me?’. To ask such a question after handing a CV that could have penned by Webster himself is a potential red flag. Your language on paper is precise and faultless. Why not mind your language all the way? There is a way of mangling English, but sounding ‘pay’ at the interview is a big NO!
Every time I asked I felt a hands- on experience accompanied by a painful feeling my interlocutors are well seated around a table and I am just hitting the pavement.
In one interview the talking heads painted a glorious picture of their company philosophy and said,’We expect you to feel at home while you push profit figures.
I said,’Can I bring my hammock?’ That abruptly ended the interview. So I am wary whenever the fellows with a Buddha smile tell me to speak my mind. ‘Middle-of-the- road- attitude’ is not what they want to hear. If I elucidate my thoughts as ‘neither profit nor loss but warm my chair is what I expect for my salary, perks, bonus’ I know I will not get past the interview stage.


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There is no need to panic. Understand you need the job and are the best person to write that resume. So with a right attitude and a little preparation you can write one will make open doors for you.
An interview, and a meaningful negotiation for a job you can keep is you are after, right?
A positive attitude is as good as writing one. Almost. You need the job so why not make your focus on your life experience and the job on hand tie in to a successful outcome?
After all what have you to be afraid of? You are telescoping into your life in a manner of speaking. You only need to choose from your experience that gives you an edge over other candidates. Other candidates may have much more experience but if they have not caught on to those vital elements crucial to the demands of the job they push their resume in vain.

Focus firstly why you are writing one. If you are applying for a position as a receptionist in a dentist’s office you need not include such experience of canning or packing meat. Your pleasant manners and winning smiles are wasted if you haven’t been called in for an interview. So keep out all non-essentials.
Save bother for yourself and others.

Secondly No experience is to be dismissed as of no consequence. You can in so many cases work it in to add flesh and bones as it were to the job you are trying to get. If you have worked as hair stylist perhaps you might have been swamped by confidences, gossip and what not from your clients all day long, that you could take without turning a hair. If you are applying for a job where your position demands certain degree of confidentiality you can mention your experience in as far as much it bring out your ability to keep that point- loud and clear.

Before you actually sit out to write a resume you have to see from the employers point of view. What are the credentials they most care about?

‘Pretend you are in the employer’s shoes and ask yourself, “What’s my biggest need? What’s most important to me about this job?” Talk to your mentor and contacts in the field. Try to find people who are already doing the job you want and ask them, “What is the most important part of your job?” ‘

Finally think of this job one of a kind in your life experience. It is only fair to grab it with all the aspects of your life that has the best possible chance to keep it. Once you are in the job, your new experience will leave its impact so next resume that you write will be different from the resume you need to write. So treat this as the best you can for the job you want.
The interviewers shall take you for how you have put your emphases on your career path. So writing a proper resume makes your life in a proper perspective as far as your career is concerned. If you are vague it will show it through. If you stay focused and precise it will also speak for you accordingly.
So good luck.
(Ack:Karen Burns She blogs at http://www.karenburnsworkinggirl.com.)

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Bogartiana  ©

“I am Jimmy boy to my friends,” I said nonchalantly to the Flinty Eyes, whose eyes, gimlet like were seeking chinks in my armor, as I pulled up a chair.
“So you are an out-of- work agent, well,” he said rocking his chair gently and his ripples of fat sent waves sloshed within his well tailored frame: his buttoned down Arrow shirt shuddered but held on; while his beige pants, secured with a fancy alligator skin belt around a hillock of bad fat presented a man who got what he wanted. He was well heeled to pay me for my services. That made me smile and hang there like an eager beaver. He was all for rocking himself to keep me there squirming : especially as he sank deeper into his chair and let his paunch roll to a rumble and then to a quiver. I cleared my throat to signal I am there for business. The upheaval was lost on the wearer whose thick black glasses looked deadly: as sharp as a flint.  Owl-like he swiveled his neck. His tie was a garrote,
obviously .
“ I am here for the job!” I said almost in knots. No twitch, no nervous tic on that wall of a mug who passed for the boss. He sat there beneath a framed photograph of his senior, and seemed to draw comfort from it. Having found a comfortable position he did nothing. I was in his territory. He knew it and I knew it but didn’t cramp my style. I was the professional  gun for hire. I was doing him a service for gawdsake!
From my years of experience I knew that didn’t help in all cases. I sat straight. Warily, ready to draw.
“I didn’t call for any interview,” said he now taking out his montecristo and puffed as if it would make me fade out.
“ No, you didn’t call,” I rasped,“ so I flew out of the air and just dropped in!” I murmured with a sardonic curl of my lips and I knew whenever I meant to convey some mystery,  I sounded something like a Bogart. Out- staring him I hissed, “ but I know you need a gun for hire just the same.”
“What are you, some wise guy?” he said blowing smoke as a tired whale in sharkskin suit and it only made him incongruous, coming to think of it.
“ No, I am a bit tired right now”, I said getting to my feet and taking out that squishy cigar out of his mouth. Had he been wiry as I was he would have belted across my mug. Instead he blinked and I said, “ One doesn’t smoke a cigar to hide from the real issues.”
“Well I’ll be blowed!” FE gasped, and I said just to smoothen his ruffled ego, “ A wet cigar doesn’t add to your personality.” I had to steer him right on the tack. I crooned leaning closer, “ I am a very busy man and being doled out to do the job my fuse is short on drivel.”
“Ditto!” he said with a frown.
“ My gun is for hire, savvy?”
“Doled out?” Mr. Big asked, “By whom?” FE was playing for time as I could figure it out.
“ By necessities, man,” I was on the edge,“ Do I have to spell it out what it mean? You think I would be wearing out soles of my shoes if it weren’t for that?”
Morning smog of the city had with tired feet come in through the broken down blinds and I could see silhouettes move around restless. Through the frosted glass partitioning of his space from the rest of the floor, life had found its exact rhythm and with a glance I knew it was regular jungle out there.  Steady hum of typewriters and crackle of teleprinters coming from some dead hollows warned me to go easy. It was the bewitching hour when Supply rubbed shoulders with Demand and the brokerage firms of  Sin City skimmed their percentage; it was also the time winners ran all the way to the bank while the losers beat their path to law firms looking for a loophole o something. Some even would send for the likes of me. Of course I have my professional pride. Never a hit and run job. That is my principle man. I wanted the thrill of looking in the eye of one who assigned me the job and check out for myself if the job was clean or not. In Sin city I lived by my gun but I slept all the same with a clean conscience.
The man who in his girth of all girths ran an empire, which though from what I had seen of his cubicle concealed from me its exact nature. His imperturbility was a front I knew. I could hear warning bells as he looked longingly at the butt of his cigar dying out in the corner and furtively smoothened his cuffs. He ran an evil empire all right.
I started a conversaion that he cut in and ducked when I asked. He spoke with a guilty conscience and I was not to give up.   Cosa Nostra would have been proud of him, had he spoken a word of Italian. Instead he spoke Yiddish with gilt edge. When he raised his voice it was like jagged edges of bottle raised in self-defense. In his thick glasses I read mayhem as he finally found voice. He barked,
“ You can hit the street!”
The excrescence of the humanity who ever warmed the chair before me paused chewing in all probability, the poor slobs who were fated to work for him and he took to run his pudgy hands over his tie. His tiepin was cheap, fools- gold thing beaten to represent an image of a Collie with a bandaged paw.
“ I carry a gun,” I said with a low laugh, “as ever; and I can shoot straight!” I knew that I had the reputation of being one with a deadly aim.
I was so good but these days when every goon with a hand to spare latched onto a gun or other I ought to be something more: with so many amateurs going around these days, one who shot with a song in his heart and mouthing Ginsberg with the right inflections (at the same time) was something of a rarity. I prided myself being a pro.
Between the assignments. Only trouble was that the interval, in leaps and bounds had something of a wasted decade. My gun was primed and ready to go off. But who shall take me on? Honestly now I needed the job badly that I was willing to take this blot on the landscape; the Flinty Eyes I knew could eat nails for breakfast with a couple of broken glasses on the side, (go easy on mustard, please). I knew he wasn’t much for a conversation except being offensive with his silence.  As I cased the setup I could him take him on steel for steel, nerve for nerve, I could stare him down. In fact that was what we were at for a couple of minutes till the shade of Sidney Greenstreet unwound his stare in defeat. He removed the glasses and boy! Was he a sore sight! He was cross-eyed. So he was a fake who passed for Flinty Eyes. I knew I had him where I wanted.
“Now about this assignment, how big do you think…” Slowly Cross Eye alias FE got up with every ounce of adipose at his will and pleasure; had I not been beefed up about necessities in life I could have taken time to see all those jowls doing a watusi as he ambled on. He came around where I sat and he put his suety hand with a ring with glass as big as a beetle on his pinkie to say,” No longer we put to sleep elephants with a gun…” He would have cried then and there if I made a false move. So he was a phoney don with marshmallow for a heart” Well, well I was slowly getting through. I was afraid he might start crying so I steeled myself and kept a deadpan face, “So you are sorry it had to come to this?” I quickly added,
“ When I hit I hit good and proper.”
“OK you can hit the street, mister!” The man had guts. This much I had to say. “Where does that leave my smoking gun?”
To which he said moping his promontory of a forehead with his bandanna as large as a table cover, “tranquilizer gun is out!”
“ What fortune- cookie this fatso is dishing out?” I asked myself.
“ Bring your dog next time.,” said he with a placatory tone,” don’t come yourself, for goodness sake.”
“ Why, a dog?” I hollered,” I told you my gun puts to sleep!” I knew Philip Marlow didn’t face a situation as I did then.
The boss merely stood there and punched his thumb towards the door where stood my blonde Venus. She was armed and dangerous.
The last part of it by courtesy of  a whelping lapdog and I didn’t give a damn.  My eyes could see a voluminous cushion of a woman’s bosom; above the cleavage were some millions worth of ice and a face to match. A gorgeous babe, sure. She walked in and crooning to her doggie as though the mutt was any wiser for it. She walked past me in a cloud of Bellini #3 while a sweet thing instantly appeared from somewhere and received the mutt. “ I shall fix Fifi to her old glory, mam.”Said the girl Friday. So she cleans up the butt of a mutt. What does that make the bozo? I had no answers.
The boss saw me eyeing the babe with Fifi and he didn’t like it one bit. He knew I was a mistake. And I was in the way. He came striding to lead me out.
I stood there dumb looking at the door, and my hair all stood up in horror.
My mistake stood there in 2” letters.  Having run through tight corners all my life I could now of course brace myself to it.
It said,
Expert vet jobs undertaken”
“So I have come to the wrong floor after all,” I said with a devil-may-care leer knowing the pachyderm in business suit had his eyes still crossed while I made a beeline to take the way out.
Patting the bulge under the left side of my lapel I said,  “I am still a hit man!”
I thought I heard him guffaw loud just to impress the sugar babe.
After all I had the last word as I closed the door behind me. Making a neat turn I said icily,“ I’m James Manekshaw Boyce to strangers!”

“ Mr. Batliboy will interview you now,” the voice of the secretary snapped me out of my reverie.
Mr. Phiroze B. always had in his sleeve a question to trip you up when you least expected it and had weeded out so many of my friends who never again found their feet; and he was in there and he was in for his kill.
‘This is the real thing, Jimmy boy.’
Instantly I was sober and quickly ran through the tips ‘everything-you- wanted-to-know-of-facing-an- interview’ once more in mind; clutching my CV and documents I went in with a smile not sounding too familiar and with a nod I politely announced,” Good morning, Mr. Phiroze Batliboy, My name is J. M. Boyce.”
The End

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