Among the advice people my age and older got when we went to college was to avoid campus protests — “even though, son, you agree with them” — because someone might take your picture. When you go for your first job, someone may remember seeing you in the paper. Worse, in 20 years when you decide to serve your fellows by trying to get elected to something, that photo may haunt you.
Defiantly, we thought, what are the chances I’ll run for office? Fourteen and more years ago, it was further disproven when Clinton opponents claimed there was a newspaper photo of him sitting in a tree during an anti-Vietnam war protest. None was ever found, and those people could dig up anything. The moral: Whose vote would be influenced if he could be proven to merely have sat in a tree? But: Your boss is either A) smarter or B) dumber than the American voter.
My last work-study job was so wonderful that it lasted both junior and senior years: administrative assistant to Stanford professor Marion Lewenstein, now emerita. I helped her coordinate journalism job and internship info for students. One major lesson learned was inconsistency. On resumes, we found, about half of the hiring editors were irritated by the listing of hobbies, any hobbies. To them it showed a lack of focus. The other half of the bosses appreciated learning the breadth of a job candidate’s interests. The moral: If you can afford it, you will end up working for cool people if you expose yourself in your vita. But: It may not be the best job.
These days, the executive may not have a problem with very long or short hair, or even unusually colored hair — which we enjoyed ourselves, in The Day — but piercings and tattoos can trouble them. The savvy job applicant leaves off the studs and rings, covering those and skin needle work with make-up and clothes. Then months after the hire, won’t the boss be surprised on some casual Friday or the company’s summer games day. The moral: Sensible managers won’t be troubled by such adornments. But: Don’t you want to be taken seriously when you want to be taken seriously?
The New York Times is reporting on the career danger young people put themselves in by posting rants, intimate details and compromising photos on Web sites such as MySpace. The moral: Hiring supervisors can and thus will search on the applicant’s name so let the blogger beware. But: As a middle-aged desk jockey, I stand to gain from cheaper, savvier rivals jeopardizing their chances by permanently displaying themselves as idiots on the Ether. Thanks, kids!
Unlike permanently scarring or marking myself, though, my choice in how to stay up to date is learning Web design then volunteering these skills for nonprofits. The latest skill is mastering the online text editor, which caused the bloom of blogs. But how much have I restricted future career choices with Brick in particular and its Web site in general? Is it Example Now of the recent reflection on self-jeopardy?
First I should recall that an Internet search could bring up a few of my newspaper columns anyway. Then I recall my hobbies. Do I want to work for a company freaked out by recumbent bicycles, basil growing, baroque recorders and six-wicket croquet? In the first 10 days of this month, my online resume was viewed 103 times. Ohmygosh. The moral: Who is the poorer for folks knowing this stuff, anyway — me? But: By “me,” you may understand “you.”
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