The Fund Raiser

Three Months on the Market

Article tools

Printer friendly	E-mail article	Subscribe	Order reprints
	Discuss any Chronicle article in our forums
Latest Headlines Ms. Mentor He's Hogging the Course I Want Should you wail to your colleagues, wait your turn, or find your own little piece of turf? Moving Up Managing From the Middle Five rules to help you as a midlevel administrator lead people over whom you have no real authority. Career News Colleges and the Financial Crisis Most institutions, both private and public, seem to be faring relatively well, even as they and the students they serve are tightening their belts. On Course EZ Bibliographies Do Web sites that format citations for students negate the need to teach them how to create a proper source list? Resource Salaries: Faculty | Administrative Presidential pay: Private | Public Financial resources: Salary and cost-of-living calculators Career resources: Academic | Nonacademic Library: Previous articles by topic | by date | by column Career Talk, Ms. Mentor, and more... Landing your first job On the tenure track Mid-career and on Administrative careers Nonacademic careers for Ph.D.'s Talk about your career Blogs

By Mark J. Drozdowski

Every so often circumstances conspire to convince you it's time to move on from your current employer. Earlier this year I began reading the tea leaves, which whispered that changes lay on the horizon. I've since been on the market, testing my worth and reaffirming the simple truth that some institutions know how to treat job candidates and some don't.

At first my search remained sporadic and halfhearted. I'd browse the ads and respond casually to headhunters who called with leads. Before long, though, I became more aggressive, networking with search firms, former colleagues, and anyone else I figured was safe. I let them know I was on the prowl and ready for new challenges.

During that time I applied for about a dozen jobs. A few were a bit of a stretch. Others were lateral moves, albeit at larger institutions than my own. For a couple of the positions, I was overqualified, at least on paper. But most of them represented a logical next step in my career path, with more responsibility, a juiced-up title, and a little extra cash. In a sense, the mix of positions reminded me of the advice given to high-school students when they're applying to colleges: Dream, be smart, and throw in two or three safety nets for good measure.

One of the safety-net jobs was at a public, regional institution. It caught my attention because it was something of a departure from what I've done recently, although it was still under the advancement umbrella. At first, the job seemed a step down on the food chain, so before applying I inquired about the salary. The university's human-resources guy wrote back indicating that the range topped out about 25 percent higher than what I was currently making. Less responsibility and more money make an intriguing combination.

So I sent my résumé and some writing samples. About a week later, the chairman of the search committee called to request written recommendations, saying that my application couldn't be considered without them.

Now, I sometimes see ads for faculty positions that require such letters at this initial stage, but it's uncommon in advancement searches. Most hiring committees in an advancement search check references by phone following the on-campus interview -- not before it has even occurred. But I complied, begging my references to write generic letters that I could use with multiple applications.

The letters must have been persuasive, because a few days later the chairman invited me in for an interview. Someone else would be in touch to coordinate my visit, he said.

In the meantime, I asked, Could you send me background information on the institution, such as an annual report or an admissions viewbook? Nope. I had to print materials off the Web, including the 32-page alumni magazine, which took my aging printer about five days to process.

How about directions to campus? They're online too. You'll figure it out. Parking? Get to campus and read the signs, just like everyone else. But don't park in the reserved spots or you'll get towed.

When I did find the campus, a place to park, and the right office, I was greeted by a friendly assistant who offered me a tour of the advancement suite. Arrayed in a labyrinth extending across a wide expanse were cubicles, each about the size of a bathroom stall.

Suddenly the deepest recesses of my memory began dredging up all the Dilbert cartoons I'd seen over the years, along with every scene from Office Space featuring Milton and his red stapler. What about confidential phone conversations with donors? I thought. Didn't they understand the need for privacy? I'd be giving up walls, a door, a conference table, windows, a view, and any sense of professional propriety to which I had grown accustomed. I began looking around for Allen Funt.

We made our way through the maze to a small room, where the search committee was waiting. After a few polite introductions, they started firing questions, which they read from a printed script. They lobbed the standard softballs (Why here? Why now?) but threw me a few curves along the way.

One question was particularly interesting: "What's the worst thing former colleagues would say about you?" Of course I had to find some middle ground between "they'd call me a pompous ass" and "they'd complain that I'm a workaholic." I remember muttering something about being rather reserved at times.

From there I was whisked off to meetings with the top brass, who, to a person, questioned why I would take a job for which I was so obviously overqualified. I began feeling rather foolish for severely underestimating my market value, for appearing downwardly mobile, but I nonetheless tried to convince them I found the job inherently challenging.

To be fair, I didn't come with a complete picture of what the position entailed or where it fit on the organizational chart. I simply knew the salary range, which suggested that the job, while "beneath" me, was senior enough.

Wrong. During a conversation with a vice president, I learned the salary range actually topped out at about 15 percent less than what I'm making now. In other words, what I'd thought was the bottom of the range turned out to be the top. The human-resources guy had erred, but I wasn't going to make a stink about it. I would just have to fake my way through the rest of the day.

That included graciously agreeing to take a writing test, as if my publications weren't evidence enough that I know my way around a sentence.

The final meeting featured staffers who used the session to kvetch about the amount of work heaped upon them. If these folks were trying to sell me on the institution, the department, and the position, they weren't doing it very well. My torment lasted until 1:30 p.m., but I was never offered lunch, or even a bathroom break. A couple of days later I sent the obligatory thank-you note along with a request for reimbursement for travel expenses. No dice. How fitting.

So that was exhibit A in my file of poorly run interviews, misinformation, and lousy salesmanship. My other experiences on the market of late haven't been as bad, though some have been downright strange. A couple of places expressed initial interest and conducted phone interviews that ended with the guarantee of a campus visit. I never heard another word from them, so I assumed that I had somehow disqualified myself and had been disingenuously promised a second interview. Were they simply avoiding the discomfort of admitting I was no longer a viable candidate? I'd rather hear that then be misled.

Headhunters have proved to be a mixed bag. One in particular was puzzling. She was recruiting for what would have been a stretch position for me, though the institution had contacted me to gauge my interest and had asked me to send my résumé.

Early on, the activity was fast and furious, with several phone calls and e-mail messages confirming mutual interest. I was set to "meet" the head of the firm by teleconference at a site 45 minutes down the road. Unfortunately, a stomach virus had its way with me, forcing us to reschedule. When we did speak by phone later in the week, she had nothing to say other than to convey the president's desire to hold the process in abeyance until after the spring graduation ceremony. What, I thought, had she planned to discuss earlier that week? Would I have traveled almost an hour just to hear that everything was temporarily suspended? Didn't she have some basic questions we could address nevertheless?

I began to think that the headhunter was yanking my chain. My guess is the president made it clear that I wasn't a finalist and this was the search firm's way of sidestepping that issue. If in fact I was still high on the president's list, then the firm wasn't doing a good job of cultivating my interest. Again, best to simply tell the truth. I'm a big boy.

The most bizarre turn of events occurred with a prestigious research university. I applied for a position in corporate and foundation relations and didn't hear boo for several weeks. Finally the on-campus recruiter tracked me down, only to ask if I might be interested in heading up annual giving.

Annual giving? Have you read my résumé? Do you see that term anywhere? But while I have you, I said, what about the position I did apply for? Evidently the hiring manager didn't think I was a strong-enough candidate, despite my 15 years of experience in the field. Zero years of experience with annual giving, though, was plenty. The recruiter promised to sort things out and get right back to me. I'm still waiting.

Thankfully, I've also experienced some pleasant searches that have reaffirmed my faith in humanity. A few institutions and firms have been accommodating, considerate, and sympathetic. They've coordinated my travel and treated me like visiting royalty. One even arranged for a gift basket to greet me in my hotel room. Now that's a sales pitch.

During interviews, people at those campuses have asked the right questions and provided thoughtful answers to mine. They've been careful to keep me apprised of the process, to maintain lines of communication, and to apologize for any unexpected delays. In short, they've done their job.

And I am certainly done with mine. It's been a fun four-year ride at the college, but I'm ready to move on. I came in with the graduating class and am following it out. Commencement, after all, marks a time of new beginnings.