I have been writing HR Technology Conference related preview posts for 8 years now. This realization depresses me. The best years of my life have been spent on, well, this.
The nice thing, though, is that nothing has really changed since the first one of these I went to all the way back in 2009 except there were around 2000 attendees back then.
This number has skyrocketed, obviously, as we’ve moved from a lazy business backwater into the hipster neighborhood for venture capitalists and entrepreneurs.
For all the talk of “reinvention” in recruiting, for all the products promising to “disrupt” hiring, and for all the banal banter about fixing what’s “broken” in talent acquisition today, the one part of the process that has more or less escaped any modicum of automation, transformation or innovation is perhaps the most important: the job interview.
There’s a reason, unlike the resume or on-premise software or the manifold other job search standbys, the interview has remained more or less above the fray, universally accepted and unilaterally adopted as an inextricable part of the employee screening and selection process.
So, we’re pulling up to #BSidesLV (after attending, I’m still not sure what the hell that means), and I’m about to swipe my card through the taxi meter when suddenly, the screen goes black. Suddenly, some Linux instance popped up (I know because it was written on the bottom of the screen), although I have no idea what the hell it said, since I’m not that technically proficient.
I didn’t have to know code, though, to get the message loud and clear. I gingerly put my debit card back in my wallet (crisis averted), then asked my partner in crime Pete to borrow some cash. He’s much more prepared for this than I am, with a burner phone and shit. I just run a pretty solid VPN I got in the iTunes store and make sure to use my browsers in incognito only, with all location services turned off.
I have no memories (first hand, of course) of Monster’s now seminal Super Bowl spot, “When I Grow Up,” mainly because I was growing up, and, being in middle school, paid infinitely more attention to getting girls than I did getting a job.
That was still over a decade away, one that, turns out, went a whole lot faster than expected – likely because I’ve intentionally blocked all memories of high school from my mind and was barely conscious in college. But inevitably, that day came where my ass had to go out looking for my first job.
I’m currently reading a dense David McCullough book (an oldie but a goodie), The Path Between The Seas, which won a Pulitzer back in the 70s and is a compelling read for anyone with a sadomasochistic interest in the intersection of American imperialism and global capitalism, intermixed with minute details on things like maritime engineering, flood control and trends in 19th century mercantilism. I’m a sucker for that sort of thing (and yeah, I’m really boring, and a huge nerd, and I own it).
The feat of engineering that was the original Panama Canal overcame a tremendous number of obstacles, from pestilence and plague to worker mutinies, unrelenting terrain and widespread deaths and abuse among the imported laborers, thousands of lives lost in pursuit of a profit none but a few elite Frenchmen and some enterprising (and evil) American investors would ever see so much as a sou.
We all know that salary is the single most important factor in determining whether or not a candidate will pursue a role and accept an offer. So if you’re paying under market, or your total comp package just isn’t competitive, than isn’t a damn thing in the world that a recruiter or candidate can do, culture fit or employer brand be damned.
It sucks, but if you can’t pay the costs to be the boss, then you’re probably going to be paying the costs to get yo ass on COBRA if you’re a recruiter.
Many organizations use accepted offer ratio as one of their primary outcome metrics, which means even if you’re the world’s best sourcer and recruitment marketer, if you’re trying to get a dollar out of fifty cents, it’s ultimately going to be your fault (and ass) when top of the line talent turns down bottom of the range offers.
The author apologizes for this post, which is both gratuitous and insulting. It adds nothing to the greater conversation, isn’t even well written enough to pass remedial English (or get into Arizona State) and will likely get him in trouble even though he doesn’t much care for it, either. What else is new? Oh, recruiting. Never change. That’s right. You never do.
“Me move to Stockton, him fed him monster, I can’t live here no more. Sip holy water, turned working people into the working poor. Well I keep on knocking; I keep on knocking but I can’t get in.”
– Fantastic Negrito, The Working Poor
Every so often I have to make the trip to the belly of the beast better known as the Bay Area. It is not a trip I necessarily relish, and it’s got nothing to do with the preponderance of Giants fans, Berkeley alums or even the gratuitous use of the word “hella,” which hella sucks.
Maybe a decade ago, sure, but times is changing, and the drunks and trannies in the Tenderloin have been run out by the likes of Twitter. South of Market has gone from the middle of nowhere, or where you ended up if you got lost getting on the 101, to the center of the tech universe.