Chemistry.
No, despite the obligatory picture posted with this entry, I'm not talking about Bunsen burners and Erlenmeyer flasks; rather, I'm talking about that esoteric and oh-so-difficult concept that guides every job seeker (and job offerer): Can I really work with this person? Sure, you may have all the necessary qualifications and an Ivy League pedigree, but are you a jerk? Does your sense of humor match the hiring manager's? Does the hiring manager even HAVE a sense of humor? Just as probably seventy-five to ninety percent of our communication is nonverbal (no, that's not a scientific statistic; this is a blog, not an academic journal), most if not nearly all of a job interview is about finding that particular personality match that makes you both think, "Yes! This is someone who GETS IT!"
Want to work for a nonprofit that's dedicated to a particular social or environmental cause? Better make sure you're a Democrat or you're probably going to develop an ulcer from forcibly gritting your teeth during one too many bleeding heart conversations. Want to get a job at DoD? Good luck passing the "smell test" if you thought Howard Dean was too right-wing.
The point is, people may say they want someone who can simply "do the job," but the unspoken reality is that more often than not what they really want is someone who is a mirror image of themselves. Diversity pledges only go so far in most companies; which is why in most instances you'll see people in a particular department mirroring the supervisor in age, gender, ethnicity, political outlook, and general disposition. Even the Washington Post's ombudsman has decried the tendency of liberal editors to hire other liberally-minded journalists, thus creating an environment that is anything but politically diverse. People want to work and associate with others who view the world similarly to the way that they do; this makes their working environments more enjoyable, less stressful, and also helps feed the very basic and human need for coexistence and peaceful interaction. Hiring someone diametrically opposed to your own viewpoints breeds conflict; creates disharmony, and elevates stress. With so much unpleasantness going on all around us every day, most people understandably seek to minimize the potential for such disruption in their daily lives and look for people they can simply get along with rather than those who might fit this or that particular qualification on the job description.
Which brings me back to the job I turned down this week. As I mentioned in yesterday's entry, "Knowing When to Say No," there were multiple reasons the position made me uncomfortable. The local area did not fit what my wife and I envision as the quality of life we want to lead, the turnover behind the opening concerned me, as did some of the interactions I had with the staff over why I could or could not talk the sole remaining person in the unit. But I would be remiss if I did not add the fact that the woman who would have been my supervisor mentioned something in passing that raised a red flag with me.
"We have a personality test we may ask you to take," she said toward the end of our conversation. "It's not a make-or-break by any means." Then she laughingly said, "I scored high in being anti-social!" I glanced down at the page, and without really having more than a few moments to grasp the graphic display, I saw a strong red line running all across one particular row.
If you're a fan of the television show, "Scrubs," you know that whenever a character is confronted with a particular challenge or situation, the scene cuts away to an imagined exaggeration to enhance the comic effect. In this case, I was immediately transported to the bridge of the starship Enterprise as the alarm klaxon blared, "Red alert! Red alert! Rrrrrrrrhhhh!" In a different time, I might have been transported to a WWII movie as the sub captain blared, "Dive! Dive! Dive!" while alarms screeched, "Awhooooga! Awhooga!"
THIS was the person I would be working for? The person who would be selecting the rest of the department I would be working alongside? If twenty years in the workforce taught me anything - a subject that would perhaps fill several other blog columns and none definitively, I admit - it was that she was more likely than not going to hire for personal fit in addition to expertise. That would mean an entire department of like-minded individuals who were - perhaps even by their own proud admission - "anti-social." For this I'm supposed to relocate halfway across the country??? I thought. I'm going to come work for someone who proudly admits to being anti-social and who will probably hire others just the same?
Maybe I read more into it than she intended, but taken on top of the other warning signs I saw, I knew almost instantly that there was no way I could step into this role that she had for me. Thinking ahead, my only thought was how I would within six months be sitting alone at my cubicle with no one to talk with and no one I could relate to. Countless studies have shown that people who feel connected to their workplace and who have "office buddies" that they can grab lunch or coffee with, socialize and interact with on occasion, or even just "bond" with at different events are happier with their jobs and more productive as a result. Moving into this position, I felt, would be a short-term solution for my job hunt but a long-term concern, especially if it was made on top of a relocation to a new city where I knew almost no one.
So, what did I do in the end? I turned down the position because I saw too many warning signs that it would simply not be a good match. It was anything but an easy decision, and to some extent it obviously still gnaws at me somewhat since I liked the person offering it to me and had worked well with her in the past. On top of all that, it was a job I felt I was qualified for and might have been able to do.
But in the end, I had to remember the importance of chemistry.
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