I might seem like some slick career-expert, but I had entered this academic year—warned as the year for job-prowling and networking—entirely clueless. I had gone through the charade of internship-hunting before, but considering every position was for 2-3 months, it all felt much simpler. This was the first time I had experienced the full job process---the 6-person interviews, the carefully worded follows ups, the agonizing waiting game, and the constant ups and downs.
I thought I’d take the time to share a personal job-applying saga. Like so many, the experience was both exhilarating and nerve-wrecking, both inspiring and draining. And it was challenging, every step of the way. But more than anything, it was a tremendous learning experience, one that undoubtedly boosted my confidence and prepared me for what’s left to come.
This particular opportunity---an entry-level position at an online marketing company---came rather unexpectedly. The story harks back to the October Tufts Career Fair, where I had casually handed my resume to a number of attending employers. Eying the piles of resumes stacked on each booth, I hadn’t thought much of it. A few weeks later, I received a surprising email on my phone; my resume had been passed on to the marketing department, and I seemed like a good fit for its two-year rotational program. The hiring process started now.
This particular instance was rare in the sense that I didn’t technically apply. In an unexpected twist, my resume was sent out first, and the opportunity seemed to magically materialize right after. But it goes to show the benefits of just getting your name and resume out there, to as many people as possible. Somebody might just come upon your accomplishment list and present you with an opportunity.
The first step of this process was to complete an analytical exercise, due the following week. It required thinking analytically about online marketing rates and organizing data through excel. It took some time—I think it was my first time using a calculator in four years, embarrassingly—but the exercise soon became less daunting. I filled it out to the best of my ability and emailed it to the HR coordinator.
Soon after, I was asked to have a Skype interview, which would take place in January over winter break. I would meet with two employers for 15 minutes each. As so wisely instructed by Career Services, I researched the company online, parsed through its website, and did some behind-the-scenes employer research on Linkedin. This was my first Skype interview, and I didn’t know what to expect. I was worried about staticky connections, video malfunctions, and my forgetful family barging into my room. I imagined the staff judging me for my green-and-pink flowered wallpaper and stuffed-animal filled bed. Most of all, I was concerned that the employer might not get the same sense of me over a flat, impersonal computer screen.
My first Skype interview—like so many anticipated experiences—was more relaxed than I’d expected. The second employer couldn’t make it, so I talked to just one representative for 20 minutes. He asked me no trick questions, but instead went over my resume, asking me about my experience, interests, and education. I expanded on my relevant work experiences, praying they sounded impressive, and even spoke briefly about my favorite and least favorite classes. Considering it was my first “real” interview in a while, I had no idea how it went. I was delightfully surprised when I received a prompt email a few days later, inviting me to Skype with three more company reps a week later.
By the time next Friday rolled around, I felt more confident sitting in front of my computer. I had further explored the company and its high-tech website, expecting this round to be more challenging and analytical. And it many ways, it was. Each interviewer dived deeper into my background, pushing me to not only describe my experiences, but offer specific examples and scenarios. They wanted to know how I worked, both independently and in a team, and how I thought—creatively, strategically, and analytically. They asked me how I deal with stress, to share my most challenging experience, and to tell of a time I didn’t agree with a partner. I was also asked, surprisingly more than once, to talk about the work experience I found least rewarding. I had prepared a few answers for some thornier questions (eg. tell me about a time you solved a conflict), but many required me to think on my feet.
When I thought I was actually getting this whole Skype-thing, my video malfunctioned on my second interview. But I forced myself not to flip out. After repeatedly apologizing to the hiring coordinator (who could only hear my voice at that point, thank god), I ran out to the living-room and snatched my friend’s computer. And all was fine from there. In fact, the whole thing oddly eased me up, and the two of us had something to joke about (hopelessly unpredictable technology is apparently a good icebreaker).
That night, I was invited into the office for the final-round of the interview process. I would finally meet employers face-to-face, rather through my slowly malfunctioning computer, and I could finally show hirers my real, off-screen personality. I was incredibly excited to have come this far.
I thought I’d take the time to share a personal job-applying saga. Like so many, the experience was both exhilarating and nerve-wrecking, both inspiring and draining. And it was challenging, every step of the way. But more than anything, it was a tremendous learning experience, one that undoubtedly boosted my confidence and prepared me for what’s left to come.
This particular opportunity---an entry-level position at an online marketing company---came rather unexpectedly. The story harks back to the October Tufts Career Fair, where I had casually handed my resume to a number of attending employers. Eying the piles of resumes stacked on each booth, I hadn’t thought much of it. A few weeks later, I received a surprising email on my phone; my resume had been passed on to the marketing department, and I seemed like a good fit for its two-year rotational program. The hiring process started now.
This particular instance was rare in the sense that I didn’t technically apply. In an unexpected twist, my resume was sent out first, and the opportunity seemed to magically materialize right after. But it goes to show the benefits of just getting your name and resume out there, to as many people as possible. Somebody might just come upon your accomplishment list and present you with an opportunity.
The first step of this process was to complete an analytical exercise, due the following week. It required thinking analytically about online marketing rates and organizing data through excel. It took some time—I think it was my first time using a calculator in four years, embarrassingly—but the exercise soon became less daunting. I filled it out to the best of my ability and emailed it to the HR coordinator.
Soon after, I was asked to have a Skype interview, which would take place in January over winter break. I would meet with two employers for 15 minutes each. As so wisely instructed by Career Services, I researched the company online, parsed through its website, and did some behind-the-scenes employer research on Linkedin. This was my first Skype interview, and I didn’t know what to expect. I was worried about staticky connections, video malfunctions, and my forgetful family barging into my room. I imagined the staff judging me for my green-and-pink flowered wallpaper and stuffed-animal filled bed. Most of all, I was concerned that the employer might not get the same sense of me over a flat, impersonal computer screen.
My first Skype interview—like so many anticipated experiences—was more relaxed than I’d expected. The second employer couldn’t make it, so I talked to just one representative for 20 minutes. He asked me no trick questions, but instead went over my resume, asking me about my experience, interests, and education. I expanded on my relevant work experiences, praying they sounded impressive, and even spoke briefly about my favorite and least favorite classes. Considering it was my first “real” interview in a while, I had no idea how it went. I was delightfully surprised when I received a prompt email a few days later, inviting me to Skype with three more company reps a week later.
By the time next Friday rolled around, I felt more confident sitting in front of my computer. I had further explored the company and its high-tech website, expecting this round to be more challenging and analytical. And it many ways, it was. Each interviewer dived deeper into my background, pushing me to not only describe my experiences, but offer specific examples and scenarios. They wanted to know how I worked, both independently and in a team, and how I thought—creatively, strategically, and analytically. They asked me how I deal with stress, to share my most challenging experience, and to tell of a time I didn’t agree with a partner. I was also asked, surprisingly more than once, to talk about the work experience I found least rewarding. I had prepared a few answers for some thornier questions (eg. tell me about a time you solved a conflict), but many required me to think on my feet.
When I thought I was actually getting this whole Skype-thing, my video malfunctioned on my second interview. But I forced myself not to flip out. After repeatedly apologizing to the hiring coordinator (who could only hear my voice at that point, thank god), I ran out to the living-room and snatched my friend’s computer. And all was fine from there. In fact, the whole thing oddly eased me up, and the two of us had something to joke about (hopelessly unpredictable technology is apparently a good icebreaker).
That night, I was invited into the office for the final-round of the interview process. I would finally meet employers face-to-face, rather through my slowly malfunctioning computer, and I could finally show hirers my real, off-screen personality. I was incredibly excited to have come this far.
