The Eye of the Beholder

We were transfixed on Saturday by the sight of a naked woman climbing one of the rocks close to Whale's Peak in Monterey Bay. We had just returned from a fine lunch at the Post Ranch Inn in Big Sur, and were taking a short hike to walk off the delicious (and insanely priced) sandwiches we had demolished.

She appeared to be utterly unselfconscious, and a friend (collaborator / exploiter?) was shooting photographs of her against a backdrop of the pounding waves of the Pacific. We were too far away to determine exactly what the deal was. A madcap prank, decided on the spur of the moment? A photo shoot for a pinup calendar? An art photography project?

At any rate, the unexpectedness of seeing a nude woman in such a rugged landscape set me to thinking that it is time for me to upset the apple cart a little in pursuing my dreams. (Have no fear, readers, I do not intend to do this by disrobing in any public places). But I do need to shake up my job search by trying new strategies, investigating some professional education options and networking, networking, networking.

This decision comes at a good time, ahead of what I hope will be a slew of good opportunities that show up around the new year. And my renewed effort has received its first shot in the arm, with a glowing introduction from a friend to a recruiter. Regardless of whether I get an interview for that job, the introduction alone served as a three month ego-boost!

We continued our hike, and serendipitously stumbled across an Emerson quote, helpfully carved into the lookout bench at the top of the peak, which could have been written to give us some perspective on our slightly bizarre experience: "Nature and books belong to the eyes that see them". Or nature, books and naked women, I guess.

Small World

Three and a half million people visit Yosemite national park every year. If you've been, then you may have hiked Half Dome, with its vertigo-inducing cables, or taken one of the easier hikes to Vernal Falls or Nevada Falls. But the chances are that you haven't even heard of the High Sierra Camps, which are perched high above the valley in landscape which is breathtakingly beautiful.

Last week, in company with an assortment of soon-to-be family members, I looked down on Half Dome from a peak called Clouds' Rest. We hiked nearly 15 miles that day, and saw just a handful of folks (and some mules) on the trail.

There is a sort of fellowship among hikers. Mutual encouragement is commonplace. As you huff uphill, redfaced and slow, complete strangers on their way down will stop to let you know that you are nearly there, and that the view is worth the work. And as you return down the slope, you dispense advice on the walk (wisdom learned just 30 minutes before) about the narrowness of the coming ledge, or the best off-trail view. And you see the same people along the trail as you pause for water, trail mix or lunch.

There are the Boasting Bores, the guys who travel in threes and have always climbed a little higher, walked a little longer and suffered quite a bit more than anything you have done. The Good Sorts are wearing slightly worn gear that has seen a lot of action. They have a map, and will happily lend it to you if you are lost, or take your picture if you are having a tourist moment. They will also overtake you multiple times on the trail, until you lose them completely as they gallop past you on a treacherous climb. And then there are the Complete Idiots, who have ventured out into the wilderness in pristine white t-shirts without sunscreen or a hat, and with only a half litre of water to share between two on a 15 mile hike.

As I walked, I mused upon the similarities between hikers and the folks I have been networking with as I look for jobs. There is a remarkable correlation. In business, the Boasting Bores are the types who assure you that they have a bunch of useful contacts for you, but then are completely unavailable when you seek to follow up. The Complete Idiots are the sorts who think that their Great Aunt Lucy, who once held a volunteer position in a petting zoo might know someone useful in your job hunt. And the Good Sorts are the gold nuggets in the sea of silt, who open their address books (chock full of fascinating people), write e-mail introductions and aggressively help you in pursuing your dreams.

And inevitably (just as it is on the trail), the Good Sorts all know one another. In the week before I journeyed to the north of the state, I met senior executives at Netflix and the University of Santa Cruz. And of course, they were connected. The spouse of one was a consultant at the offices of the other. And so it goes. I applied yesterday for a position at a company where I know that a Good Sort of my acquaintance has an in. I'll be calling him today.

The good news is that the Good Sorts have so far significantly outnumbered the other, less advantageous connections. So to all of the people I have besieged via Facebook, Linked In and phone, thank you. You know who you are, and you have already been terrifically useful. Keep up the good work!

It's Not What You Know...

What do Hillary Clinton, Mike Bloomberg, the Duchess of York, Ken Livingstone and the Prime Minister of St Vincent & the Grenadines have in common? In the past four years, they have all met me.

Granted, meeting me may not have been the highpoint of their careers to date. And while it's pleasant to speculate that Hillary's Brooklyn connection to the Fortune Huntress might have landed her the Secretary of State job, I am willing to concede that her Senate career (and an ex-President for a husband) might have had more to do with it.

The real question is: How, and when (if ever), should I start name-dropping to help land myself a job?

Name-dropping in a social context is not a particularly attractive habit. It's rather like the people who, when you mention that you would love to visit Africa, comment that they spent the summer touring the Serengeti. On elephant-back. Drinking Krug all the way.
It often comes across as oneupmanship, in other words.

But for job interviews, leveraging your network is critical. It establishes your credibility in your field, can be helpful in determining your seniority, and may ultimately be what sets you apart from other candidates.

I'm not expecting to use Hillary, Mike or the Duchess anytime soon for this purpose. But I did just write a cover letter for a job which really interests me, where I mentioned that I have met John Gapper of the Financial Times, Matthew Bishop of the Economist and Clive Crook of the Atlantic Monthly, in a bid to distinguish my application from the pile. I also threw in the name of a well-known Valley personality, a guy who was Employee Number Eight at Google (and has since cashed out, presumably to enjoy gazillions of dollars at his leisure), in case his name might impress the prospective employer.

How well do I really "know" any of these guys? Certainly, we're not Facebook buddies. But their contact details are in my Outlook file and for each, there is a specific, usually quite memorable event, which should jog their memories. Matthew and I did a conference together on the future of New York. I sat on a panel with Clive and through an enormously dull political meeting with John. I met Google # 8 last month on a job-fishing expedition in the Valley, having been set up by Cambridge in America, because it turns out he's a Cambridge alum.

In a weird way, I'd be quite pleased if I get to the interview stage and my bluff is called, so that I actually have to demonstrate that I can reach out to these folks and get a response. Because I could, and would. And it would be a lot easier than answering some of the usual interview stock questions (What are your weaknesses? Where do you see yourself in five years' time?), which I still find tough to answer in a meaningful fashion, fifteen years after people first started asking.

I'm not likely to find out for a little while yet if I will make it to interview on this one. But unlike many of the other opportunities out there, where your resume goes into an enormous internet black hole and a machine spits out an automatic acknowledgement, I did get an e-mail response from a real person for this job. Cross your fingers for me, reader. I'll keep you posted.