Had a job interview the other day. Faced the usual lot of questions about my triumphs past and told the same tired tales that show what a remarkable problem-solver I am, full of initiative, determination, and, of course, spunk. I remember these being quite the novelty when my job search first began. “You mean you want me to sit and here brag about myself for half an hour?!” (Well, twenty-eight minutes, I suppose, after you factor in the inevitable “What’s your greatest weakness?” question) But now I’ve actually gotten sort of bored with myself. There’s only so many times you can tell the story of how you took the reins of downtrodden Student Group X and transformed it into a campus-storming juggernaut before the whole thing starts to feel a little stale. I’m thinking next time out maybe I should spin a fresh yarn or two—invent some new story paying tribute to my superb leadership, fortitude, and/or interpersonal skills. Nothing too dramatic or outlandish. (“Well, Mr. Johnson, I’d say my greatest accomplishment was wrestling a crocodile to the ground, skinning it alive, then salvaging its hide to fashion prototypes for my own line of designer leather handbags.”) Just a different cliché-ridden adventure to liven up the ol’ back-and-forth a bit.

Now, I don’t actually condone using interviews as opportunities to hone your storytelling skills (unless, I suppose, you’re looking for work as a storyteller). At the same time, I think it can be tempting to head down that path just because the job search process is so full of half-truths, misrepresentations, and doublespeak. And I’m not even talking about the scammers on every career website offering opportunities for HOME TELEMARKETING / EZ -- NO COLD CALLS / BIG $ NOW. (Heck, for all I know, those folks could be on the up-and-up. I haven’t actually tested out their offers yet). I’m talking about the culture of not-quite-saying-what-you mean that permeates every step of the traditional job search.

Take career networking, a discipline that’s all about saying one thing ("Law is such a fascinating domain!") when you mean another ("Please give me a job at your firm now"). (In this regard, “Could you give me some advice on how to enter your field?” is definitely the “Would you like to come upstairs for a cup of coffee?” of networking). Or job interviews, where you’re expected to flatter your previous boss even if he was a neurotic kleptomaniac with unresolved hygiene problems. (In job interview-speak, these are known as “professional differences”). Not to mention rejection letters, the ultimate illustrations of corporate doublespeak and hollow praise (“We have taken note of your diverse and extensive skills and abilities, but are unable to continue employment discussion with you.”). In this environment of half-truths, it’s only natural to start viewing your past as a somewhat malleable entity.

In a sense, though, it sort of is. You don’t want your interview anecdotes to be fictitious, but you want them to be sculpted and pruned so that they cut to the very heart of how gosh darn amazing you are. You want to make sure that your stories are concise and to the point, even if you have to omit details—negative or positive—that seemed important at one time. And it’s wise to figure out in advance which details these are. Heading into an interview, don’t just know what anecdote best demonstrates your problem-solving skills. Know its back story, its dramatis personae, its narrative arc, exactly as you plan to present them. In theory, the best way to accomplish this is by practicing these monologues in front of other human beings. In reality, I know a lot of people (myself included) would find this substantially more embarrassing than just throwing in the towel and regaling your interviewer with tales of crocodile wrangling. (At least when you embarrass yourself in front of an actual interviewer, you’ll probably never have to see her again). Even so, I’ve found I still like rehearsing my responses somehow, whether it be mentally, in front of a mirror, to a trusted teddy bear, whatever. There’s nothing worse than having the perfect answer for a interview question and botching it because you stumble over the details.

That’s my advice for this week. Further questions about job hunting are entirely welcome, though, as there’s plenty more I could say on the matter.

Till next time,

Swattie Emeritus