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HOW TO GET THE JOB YOU WANT GROWING PAINS

Dr. Norman Vincent Peale likes to tell the story of the old gentleman whose greatest claim to fame was the arrival of his hundredth birthday. At the party celebrating his accomplishment, a reporter lured the centenarian into conversation with, "You must have seen a great many changes in your lifetime?"

"I sure have," replied the spry old gent, "and I've been against every one of them."

In his resistance to change, the old man differed from many of us only in that he had worked at it longer. All progress is based on change; all change is by tradition painful to some degree, and hence to be avoided. Change is described in such terms as "breaking" with the past, "tearing up old roots," and "losing old friends." Painful descriptions, most of them, leading many to yearn wistfully for the good old days, which were not necessarily so good at all.

One real estate developer building houses in the $35,000 bracket found his success-conditioned clients wanted all the latest improvements, which he had, but his houses didn't really start to sell until he ornamented them with old brass coach lamps, wagon wheels, and similar symbols of the past. Later he discovered a fad among his buyers of hanging old oil portraits of alleged ancestors in their split-level living rooms. In their new and rootless community, the newcomers were trying to find what comfort they could by creating an artificial past of their own. They wanted change, but they also wanted a past to cling to, even if they had to make it themselves.

I can approve of their actions, wistful though they might seem. The instinct to cling to the past, to what is known, to habits that are as "comfortable as an old shoe," is a powerful one, not too far removed from the infant's desire to cling to mother. To tear one's self away, to go out into the "cold, cold world," requires a determination that not everyone has.

There is, however, another instinct as powerful as the desire to cling to the past, and that is man's instinct to better himself through his achievements. Achievements stimulate progress, progress accompanies change, and change involves risks which might be painful. Sooner or later, in every man's career, the two instincts clash. To strive for greater achievements, or to cling to what one has, that is the question. And instincts can't answer questions. Only intelligence can do that.

Grandpa could say of his ancestry, "What was good enough for grandpa is good enough for me." He would suffer no loss of status in making that statement, because his achievements would be pretty much what his grandfather's had been, and maybe a little bit better.

Today such a statement is no longer acceptable. Progress is no longer a slow matter of evolution, but a manufactured product on a high-speed assembly line that produces by the hour what our ancestors did by the century. Change comes in such an uninterrupted flow that painful or not—a score of jobs held for 20 years become obsolete in the face of an automated machine worked with one finger by one man in a white smock-it has become a way of life. A more complex way, I'll admit, but it is here.

The net result of high-speed progress is that the instinct to cling to the past offers few rewards except to dealers in antiques, while the instinct to better one's self through achievements has at last been freed of the shackles of tradition. And never in history has the world been more eager to reward achievements. It has to have them. And so do you.

The first steps, until success becomes a habit, are the hardest. By now, through analysis of your achievements, and through Functional Self Analysis, you know what you will be able to do best, and what will be best for you. The first step up may mean a promotion in your present department, a transfer to another department where you can exercise your talents with greater freedom, a move to another company in an entirely new field of endeavor, or possibly the establishment of your own business. Or it may involve getting your first job, and you want to be sure it is one that will provide valuable experience you can use later.

There are a lot of ways of making an approach to a promotion or a new job, and these will be dealt with at length in later chapters. First let me give you some background facts to serve as a guide.

Less than five per cent of the jobs paying more than $600 a month are filled through employment agencies. More than 80 per cent are filled through the recommendations of friends already employed by the concern, or through "contacts"— "Uncle Joe is a friend of the boss"—or through tips that "so-and-so is in need of a 'willing worker.'" The remaining 15 per cent or so of jobs are filled by responses to "help-wanted" ads, or through letters of application sent to firms with whom the applicant hopes to be associated. In almost every instance, however, the formal process involves an interview, so let's start with that.

HOW TO CONDUCT A JOB INTERVIEW

The above heading may seem strange, since you are the one being interviewed, and the man who holds your fate in his hands should be the one to conduct it. Unfortunately, as I know only too well, most job interviews, when conducted by the man with hiring power, show little improvement over the days when men stood outside the gate of the employment office and were selected by the breadth of their shoulders and the strength of their backs. He is still thinking the same negative thoughts. If he doesn't hire you, you can't be a discredit to his judgment. If he does hire you, and you flop, he will get the blame. Far easier to let you go, and hope the next man shows greater promise.

It is up to you to be that "next man" with the greater promise. Through Functional Self-Analysis you know what you have to offer, and you have the assurance that you can do the job well. Your prospective employer knows nothing, or very little about you. This puts him at a disadvantage. I might add that this is one of the primary reasons why most job interviews are conducted in a strained or uncomfortable atmosphere, so much so that some people come to dread them, and get the jitters hours before the meeting. This unsatisfactory situation is worsened when the applicant is just hoping to get a job with the company, knowing little of what job openings there might be, and still less about his ability to fill them. Then you have two men sparring in the dark, and one can well understand the complaint of the supervisor man who cried, "I had to spend all day interviewing twenty men to fill one job. Most of them just wanted to get on the payroll, 'Any where you say.’How can you talk jobs to men like that when they don't even know what jobs you're talking about?"

Merely knowing what you are talking about gives you a big edge on most applicants. Bluff won't work. The average supervisor or executive is not to be over-awed by big talk. But the assurance that comes with knowing what you want and why you want it is something he will recognize and appreciate. You have taken some of the discomfort out of the situation, put him at his ease, and provided a meeting ground on which you can get together.

If you are one of the more than 80 per cent who gets his new job through recommendations or contacts, these same sources may be able to provide the background information on the work and the company that you will need for ammunition on your first interview. (I am assuming, of course, that you want this new job because it will provide greater release for your Dynamic Success Factors, and that you have fortified your verbal information with outside reading on subjects related to the job and company.) It is also possible that your friend or contact in the company has served to put your fateful interview on a more cordial basis than that accorded strangers.

But before going on with the conduct of the actual interview and the psychological factors involved, let's begin with the case history of a man who said he didn't have a chance, but he wanted to take it anyway.

Tom Strouss was a government agency administrator in Washington, D.C. who, at 43, discovered that he was growing faster than his job. Egging him on was the memory of the six months he had spent in San Francisco during the war. He yearned for the hustle and bustle he had seen there, so different from his slow-but-sure agency in Washington; he yearned for the climate; and above all he yearned to see what he could really do if given the opportunity to use his best talents to the full.

"The trouble is," he told me, "I don't have a friend out there. I was in the Army, remember, so I didn't get to meet any businessmen. I didn't think I'd ever be coming back, so I didn't bother to make a single contact."

"Then we had better manufacture some," I said. "San Francisco is too far for a man to take his wife and children and arrive cold. Let's open some doors before you start."

Yes, you will be glad to know, contacts can be manufactured. They are too valuable to leave to chance. A man's contacts are usually limited to those he meets at work, and those he meets socially after hours, a remarkably tiny group in comparison to the opportunities there are in the world. But as I discovered early in my work, many a man would rather sacrifice his professional growth by remaining with his friends than risk "jumping off into the unknown," bereft of contacts. And having discovered that fact, I set out to see what could be done about it. With opportunities unlimited, and contacts restricted to a few friends and associates, the answer was obvious. Manufacture new contacts where needed, whether they be in San Francisco, Hong Kong, or Decorah, Iowa.

Here is what Tom, following our suggestions, did to open the doors of more than eighty concerns in San Francisco. First he obtained the names from a business index of 100 leading executives. Then he sent them this letter—which I will analyze later—defining the area of administration in which his Dynamic Success Factors could be used most profitably by his employer and himself. This type of letter, written with an assist from me —also to be analyzed—has proved effective by literally millions of dollars in increased success for clients in the $4,500 to $50,-000 income bracket.

The letter follows:
"Dear Sir;
"I have to make a $300,000 decision, so I need dependable information that will help me in coming to the right conclusion. I can't get that kind of information from just anybody; that's why I'm turning to you.

"In brief, I want to know if there may be a need for someone with my qualifications in the San Francisco area. I'm not asking you for a job; I have a good one. I really want your common-sense opinion as a business leader. My desire is to return to San Francisco, but there is no rush, and I will not make the attempt unless success is reasonably sure. Friends have told me about 'plenty of opportunities,' but friends are biased, and I am looking for good business judgment.

"Here, in a paragraph, is my background: I head up a goveminent agency department, supervising some 120 professional and clerical people; there used to be 160, but I analyzed the operations and reorganized the department to do more work with fewer people. I am a good budget man, know accounting, can get along well with—and train—personnel, and have a law degree. I like trouble shooting, and write good reports. At 43, my salary is $12,000.

"If you think a demand for some one with my qualifications might open up in the next year or so, I would further appreciate your advice as to whether it would be best for me to visit the West Coast to look around, or to send a lot of resumes to companies that might open employment possibilities in advance?

"Believe me, your opinion will be helpful at this time, and much valued. I look forward to hearing from you.

"Sincerely yours, "Tom Strouss."

From the 100 letters, Tom received 81 replies. Of these, 58 were direct answers from the executives queried, all of them constructive, and many of them containing valuable suggestions. The other answers were routine form letters from personnel departments, two of which cautiously admitted that he would be welcome if he happened to be in the neighborhood and dropped around. No letter included the offer of a job. He hadn't asked for one.

I can hear you asking, "What's the point? He wants a job, and all he gets is advice."

The answer is so important that I want to take it up one point at a time.

(1) The worst way to build contacts is to begin by asking for a job. The psychological reaction of a man being "hit for a job," is to go on the defensive, and "No" is his first line of defense. You may think of yourself as an applicant, but to him you are a supplicant, asking him for a favor. His second reaction is one of resentment—"Why is this man bothering me, especially at this time when I have all the men I need?" (Men have been hired by arriving on the scene at the precise moment their services were needed, but the chances are less than a hundred to one against such fortuitous timing.) His third reaction is one of suspicion—"Who is this man? What's wrong with him? He's probably been fired for some reason." His conclusion: "If you want a job, that's your problem, not mine. And I've got all the problems I need without taking on yours."
Those are some of the thoughts running through his mind. What he will be saying to you, pleasantly enough, will go something like this: "With your qualifications you won't have any trouble finding a new job. I'll certainly keep you in mind, and if anything opens up, or if I hear of any leads, I'll let you know. I'll call you."

You have been told "No" in no uncertain terms. And you have lost someone who could have become a good contact had the approach been more diplomatically made.

(2) If you send a letter to an executive asking for a job, he or his secretary is likely to shunt your correspondence—almost automatically—to the personnel department, which generally is last to hear of the really good job openings.

(3) When you ask a man for advice, you compliment his good judgment. And when he gives advice, he will want you to follow it up, and he will want to follow your progress. He has a personal interest in you, because, after all, the soundness of his advice is at stake. He doesn't want to let you down, because, indirectly, your let-down would be a reflection on his advice, and hence an injury to his pride.

(4) You must be remembered in order to be recommended. A "manufactured contact" remembers you because you asked his advice; this is a memory-fixing technique, and so is asking him to consider recommending you to someone else. Now to return to Tom Strouss. To the 58 San Francisco executives who had written constructive letters, he replied immediately:

"Dear Sir;
"Thank you for your helpful thoughts. I am sure you will want to know when and how my ideas have jelled. I will keep you informed.
"With appreciation, "Sincerely yours, 'Tom Strouss."
He expected no answers to that letter, and received none. He waited a month, and then mailed the following letter to the 58:
"Dear Sir;
"My plans have jelled; and as promised, I am reporting.
"Starting Monday, January 12th, I shall be staying at the Mark Hopkins Hotel for two weeks. I want you to know how much I appreciate your helpfulness, and I will take the opportunity to thank you in person soon after I arrive. It seems as though there should be opportunities for me there, and also that it would be best if I explored them in person.
"In the meantime should you happen to hear of an opening into which you think I might fit I would appreciate your passing along the enclosed resume.
"My best wishes to you. I am certainly looking forward to shaking your hand.

"Sincerely, "Tom Strouss."

Ten days later Tom arrived in San Francisco. He had traveled nearly 3,000 miles. He had no appointments, and not a contact that he knew personally. But he had not been idle during the six weeks between the mailing of the original 100 letters and his arrival at the hotel.
He had followed all of the procedures detailed thus far— from the discovery of his Dynamic Success Factors to a thorough understanding of their applied values through Functional Self Analysis. He had topped this off with library research in Washington on industrial activity in San Francisco.
I could see his confidence grow from week to week. Except for his Army career, in which he had risen from draftee to first lieutenant, he had worked only for the one agency in Washington, and while his desire to get into private industry was strong, it was almost matched by his fear of taking his wife and children into a highly competitive world in which he had no experience. Or thought he had none, which is just as bad.
The analysis of his achievements was the first boost to his morale. His confidence grew another tall step when he discovered that these achievements could be used to even greater advantage in private enterprise. By the time he left for the West Coast, he knew more about himself and his abilities than most men do. And he knew more about San Francisco and its industrial opportunities than did most of the Native Sons.
Tom had already followed the four points needed to "manufacture" contacts. These are (1) Avoid asking for a position, because it nearly always bring rejection. (2) Associate yourself, make contact, with men in management at the highest appropriate level, and ask them for advice or counsel. These are men in positions of power whose recommendations will open doors to you. (3) Use memory-fixing techniques: know your best self, and "teach" your interviewer the facts about you that he should pass along to a business friend who does have a job opening or opportunity. (4) Be well informed on your capabilities so that you can speak or write briefly and enthusiastically about your effectiveness.

YOUR SALES DEPARTMENT

I cannot state too emphatically that self-confidence based on a knowledge of yourself and the kind of job you are going after is an essential if not the most important factor in good job interviews. Tom had found this self-confidence through the assistance of the same procedures presented to you in this book. He knew he had talent for sale. What he needed now were some good salesmen for those talents—executives who knew their way around, and whose names were important enough to open doors in their own right. The alternative—ringing his own doorbells and then trying to get his foot in the door—is one I don't care to contemplate, much used and much favored by tradition though it is.

Tom had these salesmen. The same executives committed to his success by having given him their advice. Not that they were ready to sell him sight unseen. They had not become executives through making deals like that.

Tom telephoned his first man within five minutes of reaching his hotel room. The voice was coolly cautious, but receptive. "I'll be glad to see you/' said the voice. "How about ten a.m. when the secretary brings in the coffee?"

"Fine. Ill be there," said Tom. He had lined up his first interview, and thanks to our coaching, he had placed the correct interpretation on the invitation. "Ill be glad to see you," was polite business for, "I'd better see you, because I won't make a move until I’ve had a chance to give you the once-over." The invitation to coffee might have been sheer Western hospitality, but more likely it meant, "As long as we are just enjoying a cup of coffee, you know, everything is informal. No serious business, you understand. If you pass the coffee test all right, we might get around to that later, but for the moment you'll be my guest, and I hope you are not rude enough to try to take advantage of it."

But don't overlook this—within ten minutes of his arrival in town, Tom had his first interview lined up with one of the influential men of the city, and that it included an invitation to have a cup of coffee—well, many a long-term employee in the firm had never enjoyed the privilege of sitting down with the boss under those intimate circumstances.

From Tom's report, the interview while the coffee was being brought in covered his trip from Washington, the view from the Top of the Mark, the climate, the fog, the Golden Gate Bridge, and traffic. Two minutes for that, and then, after the first sip of coffee, the first tentative lead from the executive: "I've read your resume. Interesting. I didn't know you fellows in Washington—I guess we always think of you as bureaucrats —worked that hard. Tell me something about yourself."

Tom was ready for that. "Would you rather I started in with my background in office systems analysis, or budget development, or office management?"

His voice was casual, but his question wasn't. It was one of many carefully calculated in advance to meet almost any opening lead. The technique he used—and you can use—is designed to eliminate those first awkward moments of indecision. Awkward because the executive doesn't know where you might start, and so can't brace himself in advance, and awkward because you don't know what start might be most effective in winning the executive to your side.

Remember this: Only you know what you want during the first stages of the interview, and this advantage lets you play the first question on your own terms. Tom played it that way by mentioning the three job functions that he did best, and on which he was qualified to speak with authority. But he didn't brag that he was an expert in those fields. His answer implied that he was, but when he tossed it back to the executive, it was with a polite question mark that removed all traces of braggadocio.

Thus disarmed, the executive said, "Start wherever you like. It's your story."

"All right. Office systems analysis. After analyzing our systems, procedures and flow of work, I reorganized our office operations so that we were able to cut our staff of a hundred and sixty people twenty-five per cent, to a hundred and twenty. I found four weekly reports which no longer had meaning or usefulness. These were dropped, and I developed ways to combine others meaningfully so that six became two. A lot of paperwork was eliminated, then I reorganized to further simplify operations and cut costs. . . ." And for two minutes Tom described his duties with no waste. He ended with another question, "Would you like to ask me some questions on that, or would you rather I went into my experience with budgets, office management, or personnel training?"

This question, too, had its purpose. He had talked about himself for two minutes, long enough to make his point, but not so long as to create the impression that he was in love with the sound of his own accomplishments. Then through his question he asked the executive for further instructions while directing the line of inquiry upon his own career. The subtle effect of this was double barreled—it returned the command of the interview to the executive, who otherwise might have begun to get restless had the monologue by a stranger been prolonged, and yet it left Tom in command of the direction the interview would take. He could either answer questions, as he was prepared to do, or he could talk on budgets or managements. The important point here is that no matter which subject the executive pursued, it would be of his choice, and therefore he would be interested.

"Go ahead on budgets," he suggested. "I think you cleared up office systems analysis pretty thoroughly."

Tom took up that subject in the same brief and thorough way he had covered the first. Followed through in this way on three more subjects, Tom was able to put his best foot forward, solidly, during the fifteen minutes usually allotted to the "coffee break." The executive was impressed by both Tom's brevity, and his ability to cover a lot of ground without seeming to be in a rush.

"I'd like you to meet our Controller," he said, standing up to close the interview. "I know he doesn't have anything at the moment, but I know he'd like to meet you. In any case, he'd be the one who would know more about other companies who might have openings than I do. He has to get around more than this desk-bound slave."

Then he called the Controller on the inter-com, and the appointment was made, and for right now. When a top executive sets up the appointment, it usually is for "right now."

Then the interviews really began. The Controller really got down to cases, and it was noon before the interview was ended. Tom felt he had talked himself out, but when the Controller said, "Noon already! How about joining me at our luncheon club?" he was ready. He met eight men in the course of luncheon, and one job interview was arranged then and there. He had been in town 24 hours, had made ten solid contacts, and had one firm job appointment. He still hadn't asked for a job, and he wasn't going to. We had warned him about that. Sometimes the first offer may be the best, but it isn't likely. He had given himself two weeks to shop around, and he wasn't going to commit himself until he had seen what they had to offer.

They were an exhausting two weeks—over 80 formal interviews. All this time Tom had not asked for a job. He asked only to be the means by which the executives who interviewed him could help their friends obtain a capable employee. By not making a direct appeal, he was not subjecting his new friends to the embarrassment of a refusal. Each man was free to consider Tom as a possible addition to his staff, or free to recommend him to a friend—as a favor to both the friend and to Tom.

Now let's examine the psychology of Tom's approach in terms of your own job interviews.

INSIDE LOOKING OUT

So ingrained is our tradition that a man should start at the bottom and work his way to the top that some sort of a stigma is attached to job hunting. Why, so the thinking seems to go, aren't you working the way to the top with your original company instead of butting into our business? Were you fired, laid-off, or are you one of these restless job jumpers? Or are you a moon-lighter, trying to hold down a day and a night job simultaneously? Except in our youngest industries, like electronics and television, the first challenging question is more apt to be, "Why are you coming to us?" instead of "What have you got to offer that we need?" This only slightly veiled hostility still exists in most industries even though those industries are in desperate need of top-flight men, and even though the executives of those industries realize that many a man's talents are atrophied by the lack of opportunity for growth in then-present jobs.

Because of this, the tendency of talented men is to keep their job hunting to a minimum, first because it's a painful process, and second because they don't want to get the reputation of being "floaters" or job hunters. They have no hesitation about trying on shoes until they get a pair that fits, but when the job doesn't fit, and their futures are faced with a permanent pinch, they'd rather keep hoping for the best instead of doing something about it. The result is that they know little about the technique of job hunting, or even that there is a technique.

The same type of thinking affects the executives who need to hire the best men they can get. Hiring a man—buying his life in monthly salary installments—entails an enormous amount of responsibility that increases in direct proportion to the importance of the job.

In the lower levels of employment, where the ability to do the job is the main requirement, the employee either does his work or he gets fired. It's that elementary. The boss might not like to fire him—for most men firing an employee is an unpleasant if not downright shattering experience—but at least he is not to blame if the employee can't handle the job.

But the higher one goes, the more intelligence and personality enter the picture. Of course one is still subject to the same harsh laws of dismissal if he fails to handle the job properly, but now he is a discredit not only to himself but to the man who hired him. And no supervisor or executive wants to go through the ordeal of firing a man, and then through the humiliation of admitting to his superiors, "I was way off in my judgment of that man. He didn't work out."

The result is that in the majority of cases executives have abdicated their most vital responsibility—the selection of their subordinates—in favor of archaic methods that leave them one vanity-restoring out—"Well he came highly recommended—" or, "He got the highest marks on our intelligence tests."

To put it even more emphatically, the executive knows little more about the technique of talent buying than the applicant knows about the technique of talent selling, or even that there is a technique. In order to get the best out of a man, you must look for the best that is in him. Success Factor Analysis, the techniques in this book, enables an executive to seek and find the best that is in a man. These techniques also help to adapt men to new technology jobs.

THE GREAT, UNNECESSARY SPARRING MATCH

As a career development specialist, I have had the opportunity of analyzing thousands of job interviews, both from the executive's side of the desk and the applicant's side. The result has been highly revealing, and in a surprising way.

Contrary to general belief, it is the executive or supervisor with a choice position to fill who is on the most uncomfortable spot. He has to be many things at the same time. He has to play the welcoming host, because the interview takes place in his office, but he can't be sure if he is greeting a guest or meeting an adversary.

He has to be the boss, because he has the power to say "Yes," or "No," fateful words that may dash the applicant's hopes or brighten his whole future, but at the same time he has to subordinate himself to the applicant, thereby encouraging the applicant to talk more freely about himself and supply such other information as the executive needs.

He has to "sell" the position that is open without committing himself to buy the talent that is being offered for sale. By the time he has played a half-dozen roles—in fifteen minutes—host, boss, inquisitor, expositer, encourager, and psychologist, changing hats each time like a quick-change artist, he has had it. And all the time he has had to maintain that air of pleasant good-fellowship demanded of executives while mentally striving to reach that coolly impartial decision that makes or breaks the applicant.

Small wonder that for several years many executives have preferred to let intelligence and aptitude tests weed out their applicants for them. If the results weren't always good, at least it spared them the ordeal of passing judgment on fellow creatures. As one executive, putting in words the thoughts of thousands, explained it to me, "I can buy steel and sell machinery, and drive as sharp a bargain as the next fellow, but buying a man's career—boy, that's something else. I feel like a slave dealer, poking a finger into a man's head to see if there's anything there."

Following the conclusive evidence produced at Columbia University in 1959, that intelligence and aptitude tests as guides to a man's future performance were "little better than guesswork," the whole trend has shifted toward the recognition of a man's achievements as the most reliable guide to selection. This program is already in effect in many leading companies. Achievement analyses select men "in;" old-time methods "weed out" applicants, until the last one remains and is "selected."

In the meantime, with their pet tests discredited, thousands of executives find themselves forced to use the old hiring gate method in filling important jobs, and they don't like it. Whatever the applicant can do to lessen the executive's discomfort, the brighter he makes his own prospects. This you can do by following the procedures detailed in the case history of Tom Strouss, and by keeping the following points in mind:

(1) Few people getting jobs paying more than $4,000 a year are employed at the first interview. So the first must be planned to lead to a second, and because the first is the hardest, it will be well to prepare yourself in advance. Get quiet within yourself; use prayer, and the recognition of God's presence. Let your mind rest for a few moments on the most peaceful scene in nature that you can recall. Boost your self-confidence by recalling your achievements and Dynamic Success Factors. Relate them to the job for which you are applying so they will be fresh in your memory.

Remember that your interviewer is more uncomfortable than you are, but don't forget he is the boss. Defer to him by returning the command of the interview to him with a question. Be alert in recognizing things that impress him favorably, and try to emphasize them. Toward the end of the interview, if he has not already suggested another executive you might see, ask if he can refer you to one who might be interested.
This is a "memory-fix" technique, linking you in your interviewer's mind with the next executive. Be sure to get the correct spelling of the executive's name and his title, but don't interrupt the interview to jot it down. The receptionist or telephone operator can supply that before you leave the building.

(2) Recognize the responsibility of your interviewer to his company and himself, and don't try to rush him into a quick
decision. If a snap-judgment is called for, his safest one is, "No." But do remember to keep your best foot forward, using the technique demonstrated by Strouss, and remain at all times frank and tactful. Also remember this line from Shakespeare: "To thine own self be true and . . . thou canst not then be false to any man." Then, even if he must turn you down, your cooperative attitude will encourage him to suggest other possibilities, or leave the interview open to follow-ups.

(3) The technique of the "open-end interview" has proved invaluable, not only in keeping the door open with your interviewer-of-the-moment, but in frequently leading him to become your "salesman" for other jobs. Let's take the worst possibility—you have been turned down cold. You make a graceful recovery by open-ending your interview in this manner: "Thank you for your time, sir. I do appreciate your consideration, and I want you to know that I realize every applicant cannot fit into your organization. It's your job to tell me that I don't, and I'm grateful for the considerate way you did so. Just the same, in the course of our interview, while you came to know me well enough to realize I won't do here, is it possible that you know me well enough to know where I might fit?"

There is more in the above statement than meets the eye. The executive has turned you down, but by expressing appreciation of his consideration instead of resentment or disappointment—that would only make him feel guilty and want him to get rid of you the faster—you have demonstrated that you are a nice guy. He doesn't like to reject nice guys.

You have given him psychological relief by easing him out of an uncomfortable situation, moving him to give you what relief he can in return. You have given him that opportunity by asking his advice—always flattering—on a likely place to try next. The chances are two to one that if he knows of such a place or places, he will help you, even going so far as to set up the interviews himself. In one such instance, a client of mine was sent directly to his second interview, where he got the job—at $2000 a year more than the job he had been shooting for.

(4) Follow up your interview with a letter of appreciation. Whether your interviewer has turned you down, or left matters in the air, or referred you to someone else, you have put him through a few uncomfortable minutes. Though there were some good things about the interview—there always are—there were also some adverse, or not-so-good, or else you would have been hired. The adverse things are what the interviewer is remembering, if only to justify his action in turning you down or stalling.

Your follow-up letter, which is really a thank-you note few executives get from job seekers, and therefore appreciate all the more, should also contain a condensation of the good things you got out of the interview. Not only does this make him feel good for having done you some good, but your letter, refreshing his memory with the more constructive parts of your conversation, serves to supplant with positive thoughts whatever negative thoughts were raised at your interview. In that mood he may begin to feel that possibly he had been a little hasty in reaching his first judgment.

Here is what we advise our clients on this form of letter-writing: Immediately after your interview, write down a thorough analysis of what was said, both good and bad. Then, since you can't profit from your mistakes, or the bad points, throw them out. Concentrate on what seemed to be of most interest to your interviewer. In the light of hind-sight, you should be able to find several things you said well but which you could have stated better, and you may be able to find one or two strong points that you now recognize to be of special interest to your interviewer that you failed to mention at all. Above all, get down in writing the names, correctly spelled, and titles, of all the executives mentioned during the interview who might have some influence on your future.

Here is one such letter written by a client:

"Dear Sir;
"Thank you for your time and interest Monday afternoon. From what you told me about the company, and from what I have learned since, I am more convinced than ever it is the kind of place where I would be happy to make a contribution. I thought I had prepared myself in advance for the interview, but the inside information you provided during our few minutes together really opened my eyes to the advantages of becoming a member of your team.

"I was particularly attracted by that trouble-shooting job you described. In that respect I would like to add that I get along very well with people in such situations, keeping calm being one of my better attributes. (No. 3 among his Dynamic Success Factors.) You mentioned a Mr. Harold Fisk, your Controller, in connection with that job, and I would certainly like to meet him at any time you could arrange.

"I was also pleased to know that you encourage employees to further their educations (the interviewer's pet project). For your information, I have just completed a university extension course in business management with an A average, and have signed up again for a night course in conversational Spanish.

"The more I find out about your company, the more eager I am to participate in its future growth. Thank you once again. In the meantime, I am looking forward to hearing from you."

He got the job! Yet when he came to me after the interview, he was ready to call it quits. It had been particularly discouraging, the result of a well-meant lead by a contact who hadn't bothered to fill himself in with the details. My client went fully prepared, only to discover he was applying at the right company for the wrong job. "Boy, what a jerk they must think I am at that place now," he said to me.

Maybe so, but his follow-up letter made a friend out of the executive who had been compelled to turn him down, and as a friend he was able to steer my client to the job he might never have heard about.

Circumstances alter factors, but in general you can be sure of a favorable response if your letter shows solid interest in your interviewer and the company he represents, and specifically when the letter reveals that you were attentive enough during the interview to recognize your interviewer's personal fields of interest. By not hitting him again for the job on which he had to turn you down, you have relieved his conscience, and by recalling the name of an associate who might have such a job, you have moved him to become your salesman. And by adding some factors overlooked in the first interview, you have discounted the negative effects produced on that occasion, replacing them with a fresh line of positive thoughts.

(5) In thinking about a step upward, do not confuse the size of the company with the size of the opportunity. It is true that a mediocre man can remain unnoticed in a large company, and even get raises from year to year by virtue of seniority, but the man content with that vegetable type of progress is neither your concern nor mine. It is also true that a well-qualified man can often be recognized quicker in a small concern than in a large one, but that is not too satisfactory, either. Is he really the big frog, he wonders, or is it the pond that's too small? There are some six million companies in the United States, ranging from the crossroads store to General Motors and similar giants. If the jobs were shared equally amongst them, they would average ten employees each. As it is, a handful of giants employ more than 100,000 persons each, and only some 25,000 companies employ more than 1,000 men and women each. Thus, for all the emphasis on the "corporation man," and the "government or civil service man," it is clear that more people find success in small companies than in large.

I prefer to put it this way. If you want to make a habit of success, you will not be concerned with the protection a large company has to offer the man of mediocre talents, nor will you be content with being the big frog if your pond is a puddle. Static security, big frog or polliwog, can produce only stagnation and rut employment. To take advantage of change and progress, to plan to succeed steadily and excitingly, is not a matter of company size but of personal ambition. To that important subject, the next chapters will be devoted.

Success