MAY 16, 2009
I know it can be hard to imagine, but more often than not, the best jobs don’t really go to the best candidates. Instead, they go to the best job seeker, and the best job seekers may not have much “relevant experience” for their dream job, but instead are captivating communicators who never underestimate who they’re talking to.
Just weeks before my big move to London, I sauntered down K Street in Washington, DC, comparing my small liberal arts college degree to the sea of people walking past me, likely with polished Harvard degrees, Stanford credentials, and Oxford resumes. I don’t know if I was more scared or inspired by the challenge of standing out. After all, the person with the big career isn’t always the one who got by on their resume, that tiny little sheet of paper that seems to determine one’s value in the workforce. I thought of influential leaders who didn’t have their college degree—John Mackey (CEO of Whole Foods), Ellen DeGeneres, Anna Wintour (editor in chief at Vogue)—and still rose up. If I don’t have the best college degree or grades, I thought, I’d better learn how to make friends with everyone. So how would I do that?
Guess what? Even graduates from top schools need to join us normal humans in permeating the most hellish of software algorithms, known as Applicant Tracking Systems (ATS). These systems will sift through thousands of applicants for any one single job, and rumor on the street is that up to 90 percent of all Fortune 500 companies use some type of resume-screening software.1 Bombarded with hundreds and sometimes thousands of resumes for a single job post, the ATS software is an invaluable tool for HR directors. The very nanosecond your resume is received online, HR computers run it through a parser, a computer program that removes all your resume’s fancy formatting and breaks down its text into recognized strings of characters before analyzing keywords and phrases. Then, the ATS gives your resume a score, and spits out the “best” resumes to the HR director. This means, more often than not, when you apply for jobs online, your resume is getting declined without a human being even seeing it. And, seriously, all this is done faster than the time it took you to read this sentence.
More than 80 percent of available jobs aren’t getting posted online.2 Why? When a job opening comes up in an office, hiring is a pain. In fact, finding really good talent is a pain, and those who can notice good candidates are talented in and of themselves for being able to see their skill and talent. That’s why recruiters ask everyone and their mom for referrals, and even go so far as to generously bonus colleagues who recommend someone who’s a good match for the vacancy. All this often happens before the recruiter even considers posting the job online, which is a tedious administrative task in and of itself. That’s why if you’re applying for jobs online right now, you’re accessing the bottom 20 percent of what’s actually available in the market. You deserve more than tapping into that little 20 percent pool. You deserve options. Giving yourself options, creating abundance in your opportunities, that’s straight up self-love right there. Have you been stuck on the application wheel, never hearing back? I feel you. During those few weeks in DC, prior to my London move, I learned that options start with learning how to talk about yourself in a way that turns more conversations into job interviews. That’s the You Turn you’re about to learn right now, friend.
As you know, I wasn’t down for the battle against the ATS bots, and I knew my road into counterterrorism would be anything but traditional. I decided to approach life as a numbers game, knowing that if you knock on enough doors, one will open. If you’re not getting results, it’s quite simple: you’re not knocking on enough doors. This applies to your career, your love life, and your relationship with yourself. Are you feeling stuck right now? Where can you create more options for yourself, or what doors can you start knocking on?
The journey began on a muggy afternoon in Washington, DC. The year was 2009. After spending all morning unpacking my bags, I had just settled into my new row house on Constitution Avenue, feeling anxious for what lay ahead. I was close to graduation and moving to be a grad student in London. Tomorrow would be the first day of the Government Pathways Program I signed up for, which would give me the final three credits I needed to graduate with my bachelor’s degree. The class was offered by the University of Redlands Government Department as an opportunity for students to experientially learn more about career paths in DC, which meant every day we’d be sitting in lectures from different political leaders throughout the city. Hearing from diplomats, lobbyists, senators, researchers, and foreign policy officers would be life-changing, but the skills I’d learn along the way would open more doors for me than I’d ever realize in that moment.
Unpacking my things, I overheard a group of fellow students playing beer pong downstairs. All I could do was roll my eyes. I was here to figure out what I was going to do with the rest of my life and my career, and it seemed like everyone else just wanted to party. What a waste of time, I thought to myself as I started organizing my clothing drawers. To drown out the noise, I blasted Ja Rule on Napster and opened the only window of the tiny room. The streets were buzzing with activity, and everywhere I looked, it seemed like people were walking with a sense of undeniable direction. It was like everyone had somewhere indisputably important to be.
I put my head out the little window and peered down Constitution Avenue, where I recognized a couple of senators engaged in hushed, private conversations, while staffers hurried behind them like a gaggle of minions, struggling to keep their pace. Following close behind the minions and jockeying for position were journalists begging for insights and answers about the political dilemmas of the day. I remember thinking to myself about how much I wanted to be just like these people—someone important, someone who mattered. Do you ever feel that in your career, a desire to stand out in secret hopes it’ll make you more important? For the first time in my college career, I felt like I belonged, like I was going places. I’ll never forget how much I felt at one with the universe, bathing in this grace I’d never felt before.
Turning away from the window with a satisfied smile on my face, I cranked up Ja Rule and danced around the room as I got ready. I put on Audrey Hepburn–esque pearls and loaded my book bag. When everything was set, I realized that I was, in fact, ready. Ready to take the next step in life and create opportunities for myself here in DC. Perhaps a job offer was waiting after I completed my one-year master’s degree in London. There was no looking back. This inspired me to research networking events online so that I could make myself busy every single night when I was in DC. The thought of walking into a sea of strangers every night gave me anxiety, but I wondered if it could almost be like rejection therapy: getting rejected so much that eventually it would set me free, and I wouldn’t care anymore. In fact, rejection actually activates the same areas of the brain that experience physical pain,3 so much so that taking acetaminophen (like Tylenol) can actually reduce your brain’s sensitivity to rejection.4 Like feeling the initial soreness and aches from hitting the gym to build muscle, if I could train myself with being rejected, it wouldn’t hurt anymore. In fact, I started to see it as an experiment: thirty days only. I promised myself I’d just see what happened. Sometimes in life you have to make your own opportunities. If I didn’t like what it did for my career, I told myself, I’d ditch the networking and give in to a future of applicant-tracking hell for job applications after grad school. What I didn’t realize then was that this whole networking thing would be totally aligned with my CORE NATURE, the human in me who wanted to connect with people and grow.
I walked out of my brick-red row house, and even though I was flying solo to a networking event, I noticed a spring in my step. I felt powerful, motivated, and ready for anything. I was dressed to kill wearing a cobalt-blue dress and carrying a Kate Spade bag that meant business. After the long walk to Capitol South Metro Station, my smile connected with a toothless homeless man nearby. He held a cup that said Hungry Vietnam Vet … Please Help. I reached into my bag and handed him an apple and granola bar I had left over from my day of classes. Reaching out his hand, he looked up at me and smiled warmly. “Girl, you lookin’ like a young Audrey Hepburn today.”
Bingo! But was it that obvious? Was I trying too hard? Pushing back the momentary insecure thoughts, I looked back and said, “That’s exactly what I was going for. With a little splash of Michelle Obama, maybe?”
I laughed and told him this was officially my first time on the Metro, so he helped guide me on purchasing my first Metro card.
He looked up and asked, “Where you headed?”
I felt a warmth wash over me and wondered why this sweet, toothless man would feel so comforting to me. I could tell that his CORE NATURE was kind, joyful, helpful, and communicative. I could see that he had a CORE VALUE of connection and perhaps service or generosity. I assumed his CORE SKILL SET was words, because, wow, was he easy to connect with. I felt inexplicable love and understanding toward him. And then it hit me. For some reason, he reminded me of my big sister. She was insightful, an incredible writer, and funny as hell. She was also a drug addict for most of my life, and eventually became homeless because of it. When I look back, my sister was the ultimate heartbreak. For years, we’d house her, shuttle her in and out of rehab, pay her bills, and beg her to apply for jobs. In fact, we begged her to participate in society. She was an unexpected, yet still pleasant blend of depression and humor, like this guy. Eventually, she started to enjoy her homelessness in a way, or she seemed like she did, telling me proudly that she was the most competent person living in the park. She even called herself “the prom queen of the park.” No matter what her circumstances, she’d crack me up, like this guy here in the Metro. While I didn’t assume he enjoyed his homelessness, my sister made me open to the possibility that he had a similar joy in his heart.
My heart ached as we spoke. I was missing my sister, remembering sleepovers we had and fun nights out before her life came undone. I wondered where in the world she was in that moment, and who was talking to her. I wondered how she felt. This sort of wondering came in waves; it was a grief of sorts. I then got sadder, missing my family back home in LA, knowing I’d be off to London for grad school, right after this course completed and I graduated from University of Redlands. I quickly pushed the feelings aside and stayed present in our conversation. I didn’t have time to be homesick. I was on a mission and laser-focused on what I was here to do, so I answered him through an engaging smile: “There’s a networking event at US Institute for Peace, so I thought I’d go.”
Matching my smile, past his missing teeth, he leaned back to say, “Well, look at you.” He held my smile for a long beat before he continued: “When you get there, find my boy Benny. He’s a cabbie in the line out front. He looks like me, but he always wears a paperboy sort of hat. You’ll notice it. Just find him. Tell him Johnny from Cap South Station sent you. He’s good people.”
I thanked Johnny and took the escalator down to the train platform. I had to laugh because here I was, in DC, heading to my first networking event, and my first contact would be … Benny the cabdriver?
Stepping onto the train platform, I took in my surroundings. There were people from all walks of life: executives, staffers, families, waiters, and janitors. As my train pulled in, I stepped on with an emotional backpack full of thoughts: wondering how the event would go, worrying if my elevator pitch (my answer to “tell me about yourself”) was as tight as it could be. I noticed a sassy woman with braids in her hair, standing in the center of the train car, grooving to the music from her iPod. She was in her midfifties, and the music coming from her earbuds had a musical beat I faintly recognized: the Black Eyed Peas. I thought to myself, This woman has it going on. I couldn’t help but be inspired by how confident she was. She wasn’t worried about how everyone on the train was noticing her dance in the crowd. Truly, she appeared as if she didn’t have a care in the world. Now that’s what I call spiritual freedom. That is, until she looked up and shot me a confronting glare as if to ask: What the hell you lookin’ at?
For a brief second, I was like a deer caught in her high beams. After what felt like a full minute, I finally looked away. Thank God I did, because I would’ve missed the man sitting directly across from me—Michael Hayden, former director of the Central Intelligence Agency. I was immediately starstruck, seeing him just sitting there, riding the Metro, in an intense conversation with a marine in a full-dress uniform. I was surprised by the giddy feelings rushing through me, because I grew up in Los Angeles and had seen my fair share of celebrities. I was never one to be starstruck, and I always saw celebrities as everyday regular humans who just so happened to get extra attention, but this was different somehow. Right then and there, I fell in love with traveling on the Metro. I saw it as the ultimate equalizer for human interaction—an amalgamation of races, cultures, and mindsets. Regardless of social status, income, or appearance, we all sat together on the train.
I was gazing at Hayden and the marine like somewhat of a creep, and the marine started smiling right at me. As the train slowed into the next station, I flashed him a nervous departing smile before realizing he and I were getting off at the same stop.
“Where you headed?” he asked in a voice that every husky marine should have. He was about six-foot-five, and while this might sound like a cliché, he was a hunk of a man with beautiful broad shoulders, looking like he practically came straight out of Saving Private Ryan. Looking up, I quickly answered, “A networking event at the USIP.”
Completely out of character, I felt the following words slip out of my mouth: “You should come.” Surprised, he looked down at me, smiled, put his hand out, and said, “I’m Collin.” I tried to calm my fangirl nerves because here I was, talking not only to a handsome man in uniform, but someone who spent the entire train ride talking with the Michael Hayden. I remember thinking, This guy must be important if he was talking to the former head of the CIA. I was still operating from the belief that one’s career is what makes them worthy or valuable in the world. Do you have someone whose career inspires you? While it’s important not to put them on a pedestal, take note of what it is about them that you’re moved by. Usually, they’re embodying something that you would like to step into.
As the sun began setting, we walked past the throngs of people rushing home throughout the golden streets, like little ants dispersing past the White House. Throughout our twenty-minute walk to the event, Collin talked about his life, his family in Georgia, and how, even though he’d been on three tours to Iraq and Afghanistan, he was eager for his next deployment. Like a perfect gentleman, Collin held the event door open for me and said, “We’re here! We might lose each other, you know? It’s a lot of people … So, um, you’ll have to let me know your mailing address.”
I smiled, took his arm as we entered, and retorted, “Why? Are you trying to stalk me, or are you just craving a pen pal?” As he rushed over to the bar, he smiled back at me and said, “Naw, I’m leaving for a tour in the Middle East next month, and I want to make sure my family invites you to my funeral.”
At first, I thought he was joking, but seeing the look on his face, I could tell he meant what he said. Good-looking and crazy, I thought to myself. I can sure pick ’em. Although it was alarming to hear someone say something so dark and flippant, I brushed it off and scanned the room for opportunities. I’m leaving this city with an internship if it’s the last thing I do, I thought to myself. All I need is someone’s help, just one person in this crowded room. Upon finishing my initial survey of the room, I saw a man who looked a little like Johnny from the Capitol South Station. He was holding a paperboy hat in his hands, standing on the periphery of the event. This had to be Benny the cabdriver, I thought to myself, walking over.
“Hello,” I said, with bright eyes. “Are you Benny?”
With an inquisitive smile, he asked, “Is it that obvious?”
We shared a quick laugh, and I told him how his friend Johnny at Capitol South Station was my first friend here in DC. Benny smiled and offered his hand. “Ah, girl, well … Welcome to the district,” he said warmly.
As we were about to start talking, Collin walked back over and introduced himself to Benny. He pulled me aside, and the minute he started talking, I noticed from his voice that he was already buzzed, with a handful of cheese cubes in his hand from the appetizer station.
“Ashley, networking with a cabdriver isn’t the route to landing an internship when you’re back from London,” he whispered, irritated on my behalf.
I walked back over to Benny, apologized for the interruption, threw my hands up, and said, “Time for me to work the room and meet some institutional folks who might help me land an internship.” As I turned to walk away, Benny softly grabbed my hand and said, “You know, I drive for the Clintons sometimes. Let me know if I could help you get a meeting with someone over in the White House.” He handed me his card and walked away. Benny the cabdriver just became my fairy godfather of the networking event. Dumbfounded, I grabbed the card in a stupor and said, “Thanks, Benny.”
I thought about how Dorothy Parker, the author, once brilliantly said, “I hate writing. I love having written.” This started to feel like how networking was to me. I didn’t like what happened to my nervous system when I put myself out there, but I loved what happened because of it.
For the next hour, Collin introduced me to everyone he knew in the room, but I could tell the introductions weren’t bearing the kind of fruit I was looking for. Collin took one last look around the room, turned to me, and asked curiously, “Hungry?”
“Yeah, but I’m broke as fuck. Where can we go for all the snacks at a price of approximately zero dollars?” I asked.
He laughed and said, “Who cares? I’ll take you somewhere cool.”
We walked up to Marvin, a bar in the U Street Corridor of DC, where I couldn’t help but notice that I looked like all the women, decked out in my best Audrey Hepburn gear, looking ready for either Breakfast at Tiffany’s or a meeting with the president. As Collin headed for the bar again, I noticed a friendly-looking man in his forties sitting alone at the bar. His meal had just arrived and he was about to cut his juicy hamburger in half.
“May as well,” I said to myself as I walked through the crowd and sat down right next to him. As I looked confidently in his eyes, he stalled and sensed I had an agenda, which I did. I was hungry. Looking down at his burger, I smiled and asked politely, “What are you going to do with the other half of that?”
He laughed, and to my surprise, he placed my half of his burger on a small plate and slid it over. As we ate, he asked me tons of questions about my goals and why I chose to come to DC now, when I lived in Los Angeles and was headed to London for grad school in just a few short weeks. The conversation was comfortable, probably because I wasn’t trying to give an elevator pitch or verbally unload my credentials or resume. It was just two people talking over a burger.
“So tell me,” I asked, “what are you up to here in the district?” His answer was the last thing I thought I would hear.
“I’m running for mayor,” he said with a politician’s sparkling, mysterious smile.
My mind immediately started to race: Umm, I’m sorry, what? This is officially what I’d like to call a snaccident … snacking and creating chaos, all in one. I started to laugh and cringe at the same time, which is why I quickly excused myself and told him I’d be right back. I walked into the dimly lit bathroom stall, where I’d breathe in and out to collect myself. I didn’t know if I should feel amused or ashamed.
I thought about how interesting it was that Benny the cabdriver could help me just as much as this guy could, how we lived in a world of titles, fancy outfits, and elevator pitches that intimidate and somehow motivate us. I realized that we’re all so connected, and just a couple of degrees separate us from just about anyone, even the head of the CIA or a guy running for mayor. Best of all, I realized that, even if I sometimes make a fool of myself, if I wanted to make art of my life, I’d just have to keep having conversations. If you ever wake up one day underwhelmed with the results you’re creating and you want to shake things up, just ask yourself: Where can you go to have more conversations? Know that coffee shop lines are just as valuable as networking events. Conversations are where magic happens, and they have the power to turn the universe into a flow chart of opportunity.
My friend’s grandma once told me that when it comes to dating, “Don’t ever chase men. Simply be like a white goose in a field, running slowly, letting them catch you.” I always thought she was insane for saying that, but I realized that’s kind of like how it is when you’re building your career. It’s not about saying, “What do I want to do with my life?” but rather, asking yourself, “What circumstance or what environment do I need to be in to get inspired by life, or for life to catch me? How can I become like these little white geese, allowing myself to just so happen to be caught in the beautiful junctions of life and opportunity?” Choosing to go to bars like Marvin, or choosing to go to networking events, created a magical alchemy of opportunity in my life, and I realized I just needed to keep being that white goose in the crowd, ready to be caught in the lines of opportunity.
As I walked out of the bathroom, I thought of the questions I would ask the man running for mayor, or really, the same old dude I’d coaxed into giving me half his burger. Questions like “What should I do with my life?” or “How do I get where I want to go?” used to paralyze me. As a result, I would do nothing because the fear of failing was too much for my ego to bear. It wasn’t until now that I was able to see how much I was wearing perfectionism as a mask to keep me from feeling my extreme fear of failure.
When I finally returned to the bar, the man running for mayor was paying his bill, or should I say our bill? He gave me his email address, thanked me for literally sharing his dinner, and suggested we stay in touch. I couldn’t help but think what a saint this man was. For the past two hours, I had talked about myself and ate half his dinner, only for him to ask that we keep in touch? In fact, I just outright asked him, “Why would you want to keep in touch with me? I just ate your dinner and talked your ear off!” He said something I’ll never forget: “Because you’re real, and this town needs you.” My eyes moistened as he walked off. The whole thing was surreal and amazing at the same time. The way Johnny introduced me to Benny the cabdriver, the train ride, seeing one of my all-time heroes from the CIA, Collin, and now meeting a man running for mayor who was saying we should keep in touch?
I learned so much that evening: about how many opportunities exist in life, and about how to talk to people organically. In this moment, I remembered a truth that I still hold sacred in my career: success (and clarity) comes from engagement, not thought. If you want clarity on what career path is for you, you must be willing to step into an experimental calibration with the universe. Engagement could be as simple as reading books or taking a course; or it could be as complicated as actually leaping into a job you think you might like. The willingness to work for your clarity, to engage, will move you forward. After all, there’s nothing powerful about being in limbo. Instead, show up, make a commitment, and see what feedback the universe gives you. Remember, you can always course-correct along the way.
From that day onward, I saw my career as an experiment that could meet me where I was at any given moment, not a destination. I felt life’s ubiquitous magic and opportunity … and I stopped worrying so much about my future. If anything, for that evening alone, I knew I was like the little white goose, ready to be caught by opportunity and on a quest to become the most interesting person I knew … not for anyone other than myself.
Just recently, when I was the keynote speaker for a women’s empowerment conference at MGM Grand Resorts, a woman stood up and asked a question I’ve heard all too often: Why aren’t I getting paid what I’m worth?
If you’ve ever wondered this, I get it. And I want to help you overcome it right here and now. First of all, let’s question your wording: “paid what I’m worth.” You are, and always will be, worth so much more than a number, so make sure you check in with your worthiness while you’re navigating the whole salary negotiation and job-hunt game. Seriously. Second of all, in my opinion, this woman’s real issue wasn’t that she’s not getting “paid what she’s worth,” but rather that she hasn’t created enough options for herself.
Know this: if you’re not getting the results you want in your job hunt or in your career, it’s directly tied to a lack of options. Have you ever seen someone who’s walking around with a bunch of options in their career? They look excited, they have a little pep in their step, and they seem so abundant. It’s because they’re someone who has committed to the art of creating options. And do you know how to create options? You have more conversations, ones where you’re committed to living in your CORE NATURE. In fact, whenever I have moments in my business where I’m bored, I think to myself: Hmm, it’s time to create more magic. And then my immediate next thought is: Conversations create magic, so where can I go have them? Or, who is the person I want to have more conversations with?
And believe me when I tell you that you don’t have to overthink this. Just like Benny the cabdriver or Johnny in the Metro, magic is available everywhere. That’s the trick when it comes to abundance. And it doesn’t mean you need to be “on” and having conversations all the time; it just means you need to make yourself available—to the person looking next to you in the peanut butter aisle in the grocery store, to the person behind you in the bathroom line, to your postman … you name it. Magic is everywhere, and we tend to buy into the belief that there’s a certain person, perhaps more seasoned, that we should be talking to. Does targeting who you have conversations with help? Sure. But, believe me, I’ve made some serious magic happen in my career through just going to the grocery store, or walking my dog, Jupiter, around the block, with one intention: connection.
1. Where do you feel the most alive and in your CORE NATURE? List experiences, people, or places!
2. Star two to three of those options you feel most inspired to go to in the coming weeks.
3. After doing one of the activities or going to one of the places that put you in your CORE NATURE, free-form write any thoughts or ideas in your mind, within an hour of getting home. This means grabbing a pen, putting it to paper, and letting your hand write without knowing what it’s going to write. See what inspiration comes through to you after you’ve gone out and stepped into your most natural self.
4. While I don’t like exercising, I love having exercised. I also don’t usually like networking, but I love having networked. What is one action you don’t enjoy in the moment, but you always love afterward? How can you bring more of it into your life?
5. Go on meetup.com, and do some online research. What networking opportunities or events exist in your area? Start a list with dates and times, and come up with a realistic number of events you’d be willing to go to each month or year.
I know it’s uncomfortable, but here’s the truth: you don’t realize how much self-love you actually have until life is calling you forward to practice it. For me, loving myself in my career means putting my girl power pants on, and creating more options for myself. There’s nothing inspiring about waiting for one employer to decide whether you’re worthy of a raise. Why not see job hunting and conversations as a way of life? That way, you’re just a conversation away from more options, and your life becomes more alive.
And let’s just have a quick note here on being real. Truthful communication not only helps build stronger trust and a deeper relationship; it also helps keep you healthy. According to new research, headaches, sore throats, and anxiety are all symptoms of lying.5 Keep this at bay and be authentic in your communication. Who you are always wins. Your true self always comes out, so you may as well be yourself now!