Diary of a Laid-Off Dad: Episode 16
“This is the best company I’ve ever worked for.”
“In all my years of experience, this is the best team I’ve ever had.”
“We’re the best at what we do.”
Apparently, I’ve struck gold. More than once.
The above is a sampling of the responses I’ve received from my initial interviewers, which included recruiters and a few hiring managers. At the time of this writing, I’ve had phone and video calls with about a half dozen companies, ranging from household names to I’ve-never-heard-of-them-but-what-the-heck smaller players in their industries. Aside from the fact these organizations have been overwhelmed with resumes, the other commonality they share is that they all are — or claim to be — the best.
The best at what they do.
The best teams.
The best at screening candidates.
The best at onboarding.
The best at cultivating and rewarding employees. (I’m sorry for breaking the fourth wall here, but the latter cracks me up.)
It would be easy for me to magnify such exaggerations. So very easy. But I play this game, too. All jobseekers do. Because in turn, we claim to be . . .
The best at what we do.
The best at working hard.
The best at delivering on objectives and key results.
The best ex-employee all our previous employers have had.
The best candidate.
To overwhelmingly state the obvious, the job market now more than ever is a song-and-dance, with each player — candidate and company — trading facts and embellishments with no distinction between the two.
In the process of all the screening I now face, I want to stay as honest as I can. But truthfully, I also want (and really need) a job. A good job, yes. But as the weeks go by and another company passes on me, I know my leanings will turn from a good job to a job to any job.
And the moral quandary I face when dealing with employers is nothing unique to me or my situation. Since my layoff, I’ve spoken to dozens of people — peers, former colleagues, job coaches, and HR professionals — who know or have learned about my experience and have recommended I change and update my skills and background.
Not to lie, mind you . . .
But to create a fuller, more comprehensive picture of my abilities.
The line between embellishment and accurate self-promotion has always presented a struggle to me. I’m generally a reserved person not looking for praise or validation.
Or so I thought.
This layoff period of mine has laid bare a number of my predispositions, which include my weaknesses and vulnerabilities. And I have to admit, in place of confidence, I developed a false sense of humility. It’s one in which I presented a façade of modesty to others as I put my head down and worked, day after day, year after year. While I outwardly avoided drawing attention to myself, subconsciously, I expected validation in one form or another, be it a pay raise, promotion, or endorsement from a manager or colleague.
I won’t go so far as to say none of those things mattered. But when you’ve been laid off, any leverage such validation had from external sources disappears. It just doesn’t matter anymore. It feels as though it never mattered.
And I suspect that’s a good thing.
Letting go of such toxic validation has been cathartic for me. For with that absence, I feel lighter. I’ve also begun to let go of the insecurity and self-doubt that comes from an over-reliance on external recognition. Each day, I care a little less about past praise and criticism, accolades and admonishments, and all the pressure that came from creating a corporate persona. If no one else cares anymore, assuming they ever did, why should I?
I suspect the reprieve I feel may be temporary. I hope it’s not. I honestly don’t want to put so much stock in worrying about the best, whether it’s me or an employer. Instead, I pray the lightness I feel continues well into the future, long after I’ve found work again.
Because it’s what’s best.
For my future employer.
For my family.
For my kids.
For me.
