Category: Career

[Read parts 2 and 3 of this story]

For three years, I worked as an IT Consultant with Accenture. By almost any metric worth evaluating, it was a great job with tons of perks. The trouble is, I was miserable.

It wasn’t all doom and gloom at first of course. It was my first full-time job following college, and one that I was extremely excited about. I remember packing my car following graduation in Tallahassee, Florida and heading up to Atlanta to begin my new life.

When I was assigned to my first project (a gig requiring me to travel twice per week, to one of two cities), I was living the life. A change of scenery, new challenges, travel perks, and tons of extremely bright coworkers.

After a while, however, disappointment started to set in. Being on an airplane twice a week sounds exciting, but the reality of that lifestyle is far from appealing. Including taxis, airplanes, and shuttles, I used to travel about 40 hours per month.

Although the grind of the traveling was rough, what really drained my life was the work. It was some of the most unfulfilling, pointless, and tedious work I could have ever imagined. And since I had absolutely no interest in much of it, work that should have taken an hour often took me a day.

There were times when I could fake the funk and get into things, but those moments were fleeting. I was in a world where the race for promotions and praise was taken very seriously, and I felt like the only person there who absolutely didn’t care.

So why didn’t I just quit?

Well, I had no idea what else I would do. I had an IT degree and no real work experience, so my job with Accenture was a critical step in building the experience I needed professionally. And since I did what all brilliant, single 22 year old professionals do when they have no immediate plans on getting married (buy a five bedroom house in an Atlanta suburb), I had a mortgage to contend with.

I started building websites on the side for others, but I wasn’t making enough to consider it a viable income stream, and free time was always an issue. I remember fixing sites and restarting servers from my hotel rooms at 2am (needing to be awake in a few hours for work) and just feeling utter despair.

There just wasn’t enough time, and I just wasn’t making enough. I didn’t know how to run a profitable web design operation, and I wasn’t sure if that’s what I really wanted to do in the first place.

But I kept at it. And slowly, I started getting better, taking on bigger projects that paid better, and developed some real expertise. Meanwhile, I was as miserable as ever on the job.

So what happened when you finally did quit?

I remember it pretty vividly: it was a Friday and I had a (side hustle) client meeting scheduled before a remote presentation that I needed to make (day job). I knew it wasn’t the best idea, but I would soon find out how bad it was.

The thing is, I hadn’t been applying myself on the job. I was supposed be learning this exciting application that had the potential to bring me recognition, promotion, and increased responsibility. I wasn’t too terribly interested in any of those things though.

So during my presentation to my team, I floundered. It wasn’t just the noisy environment (I was trying to give it from a coffee shop since that was the closest place from my previous meeting location that had wifi). It wasn’t just the snarky coworkers (consulting is notorious for putting you in situations where hostile clients try to make life hell for you).

It was that I didn’t care.

And as a result of my apathy, my lack of preparation was on stage very publicly. It was bad but not a complete disaster, as the technology issues conspiring against us (plus the fact that I’m reasonably good on my feet) led to a “let’s try this again on Monday” decision, but the whole situation left me with a sinking feeling in my stomach.

That’s it?

That night, I experienced my first anxiety attack. I was shaken up by the day’s events, so I pulled it together and went to bed early. Saturday was uneventful, and Sunday rolled around quickly. As I began thinking about the next week (packing, the work, the unhappiness, etc.) I had another panic attack.

And this time, I didn’t ignore it. I called my manager, my mentor, and my parents with the news: I can’t do it anymore.

My manager convinced me to come in the that week (since flights were already booked, etc.), and I agreed. I was to take a week or two off following that, however. I boarded the flight the next morning feeling relieved that I had shared my unhappiness with others, and looking forward to Thursday (more on that later).

This would be my last week working for Accenture.

[Read parts 2 and 3 of this story]

I’m a headhunter.

This is how my friend Georges introduces himself at conferences and events. As a recovering IT Consultant, the very mention of a headhunter elicits memories of awkward phone calls, impersonal emails, and generally unsavory humans.

I got to know more about what Georges actually does over lunch last week and, it became apparent that he was selling himself short in the way he introduces himself. Georges helps technology professionals live better lives by connecting them with the opportunities they desire and deserve.

He told me the story of a developer whose salary almost doubled when taking a new offer, resulting in the young man being able to move out of his tiny apartment and plan a better honeymoon following his upcoming wedding.

Georges also clarified a lot of the issues I experienced with headhunters, and shed some light on the things to which I was oblivious when interacting with his kind (smile) before I quit my job last April. It was an illuminating discussion.

There’s a stigma attached to being a headhunter, just like there’s a stigma attached to being a marketer and salesman. The challenge is to communicate the art of what we do to others in a way that’s both honest and resonant.

So tell me.

What do you do?

A friend asked for some feedback on her cover letter this weekend and the response was well-received, so I thought I’d publish it here as well. I don’t write cover letters, nor do I keep a current resume, but I realize that many of my friends do so without further ado…

In short, most cover letters are too “me” centric.

No one cares about you, people care about how you can help them.

They don’t want to know how cool you are, they want to know how the cool things that you’ve done will make their business more money.

Assuming that the cover letter’s content is strong, it needs to be framed in the following context:

My [specific skill/experience] would help your company realize [goal] by [explanation].

You want to show a confidence in being able to solve specific problems without coming across as God’s gift to business. Every point you make should be strategically tied to something they’ve either said that they need or that you know they need.

The opportunity here is to be less of an appropriately-credentialed cog and more of an experienced thought leader with perspectives to share and leadership to give.

Be dangerous. Make them sweat. But whatever you do, don’t be a “model employee.”

A critical tool in your arsenal of value-demonstration is the ability to craft a narrative around why you want the position, how it ties to what you’re trying to get out of life, and the fact that they would be missing out on a good thing if they didn’t snatch you up.

The above is what separates employees from leaders who are groomed for executive leadership, and the art is pulling it off in a way that is genuine and natural.

It takes at least ten times the effort of a normal cover letter, but it’s worth it.

I have a good friend with a great job at an awesome company. He’s an accomplished, professional, cultured employee who works hard and takes pride in the things that he does. The company uses him in marketing materials and promotions (he has an amazing story), and life couldn’t be better.

Actually, that’s a lie.

For starters, the company really sold him a dream when they recruited him. He wanted to be involved in one type of work and they gave him another. He’s the only person in his geographic region that does what he does, so there’s an element of job security there. There’s also an element of “good luck getting an internal transfer approved” as well. So on the outside, his situation seems ideal: international travel, flexible schedule, support for him remaining involved in the things he was into before he took the job, and so forth.
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