I hate job applications. There are few things worse than perpetual rejection through silence. I can’t tell you how many times I applied for jobs and never heard back. And that is somehow worse than jumping through the hoops, then getting told know. I mean, at least you got to jump.
Just let me know that I’m not sending my perfectly crafted resume into nothingness! I’m not asking for much; just a break-up email.
“Thanks for trying – you aren’t even close to qualified – but we appreciated the laugh.”
I mean seriously – I fill out an electronic survey and attach a piece of paper that is supposed to represent me and then cross my fingers that someone is desperate enough to call me.
What an awful system.
Let me just say that I am more than that resume! Though, I am proud of my resume, who I call Harold, because he does brilliantly fit all formatting rules. But that’s not the point, the point is I’m much better in person than Harold makes me look. Does Harold tell you how funny I am? Or how passionate I am about working with students? Does Harold show you how excited I get talking about developing programs? Or creating safe learning environments?
No. Harold does not. Because Harold is a piece of paper by which the job market decides my fate. Stupid Harold, I know you do your best, but your font just isn’t as compelling as my voice.