CHAPTER 6

Managerial Challenges

Making a Budget Request

Budgetary requests address a variety of needs. A teacher may need supplies for a project he wishes to launch with his students; a designer must know what resources she will have available for a job; or a department manager seeks budget support for new initiatives he is planning.

Regardless of a person’s profession, whether he is an academic, artist, or attorney, there will come a time when the challenge of making a budget request is essential to accomplishing an objective.

Budget requests require effectively communicating needs and their rationales. This presentation may be performed alone or, if the setting allows, with a group of peers to reinforce it. The approach to seeking specified amounts will often be similar to asking for a raise. You aim above the goal (with reason) with the expectation that the funds or resources budgeted will be less than those asked for.

In crafting such a script, it is important to research budgets previously addressed by the decision makers—past budget expenditures approved, as well as denials. Further information about how these individuals manage the process will be helpful. This information can help to fine-tune the approach to making the ask. The devil’s advocate step is particularly important to effective budgeting in order to thoroughly prepare for questions the decision makers might ask or concerns they might raise about the request.

The budget requester should be prepared to ask plenty of probing questions, too. If you’re told that your required funds will be denied, consider asking the following questions: “Are there any other sources of funds or resources that could supplement the budget?” or “Hypothetically speaking, if you could find the funds, would you support the program?” By asking questions and seeking further explanation, you may learn something that increases the chances for reopening a request and arriving at an acceptable compromise. Finally, delivering a message confidently, which comes from practicing the script, could give your request a forcefulness it might not otherwise have.

Recently Barbara, the chair of neurology at a major teaching hospital, felt her department needed renewed financial support from the university to maintain its high level of esteem and the significant impact it had in research and patient care. She identified two major needs of the department—acquiring fifteen thousand square feet of additional wet lab space and successfully recruiting a researcher and a clinical leader for her team. This would increase her departmental expenditures by as much as $450,000 per year, plus require “dowry” funds of $3 million to lure the two new world-class team members.

Having participated in one of my negotiation seminars, Barbara came to me for assistance in crafting an effective budget request. After some discussion and a review of past actions the university’s CFO had taken, Barbara and I concluded that her ask would have to be at least 10 percent higher than she required. The CFO had a tradition of cutting 10 percent from budget requests. We crafted the proposal so that it was fully justified even with the additional 10 percent based on precedents from other departments. Barbara knew from the budget process from when she was originally recruited as chair that it was important not only to make a firm request slightly in excess of her ultimate goal, but also to gain a firm commitment. She had learned a valuable lesson from an earlier experience when she was told she would receive ten thousand square feet of additional wet lab space for her research team; in actuality, she received an allocation of only five thousand square feet. Therefore, a written confirmation of the commitment became a part of the request.

It became clear that not only was the request essential to the proper functioning of the department, but if Barbara did not receive the required financial support, she would feel invalidated and possibly consider moving on. Although Barbara was at first skeptical of the scripting process, we followed the three Ds in textbook fashion. When it came time to help Barbara practice delivering her final script, we did so in a meeting with several other delivery coaches—leaders in her department—so that the script would be tested by people knowledgeable in the ways of the medical school, as well as by my experience negotiating budget requests. Despite its medical context, the final script was not much different from scripts prepared in other contexts.

I know that you go through this process with many other department heads and it’s probably second nature to you. I can tell you that it is never comfortable for me to ask for money when I’m asking for myself. But when I’m asking for the department, I do so for the good of the entire institution. We have been rated among the best departments in the country and to keep that rating and our high impact level, we need to do certain things that require financial and space support from the medical school. [Before I go further, do you have any questions about the department’s operations or its accomplishments at this point?]

There are two components to my ask. The first is funds and the second is wet lab space, both of which are equally important. We need to immediately recruit a researcher and a clinical leader for the department, which will require additional support of $495,000 per year over the next three years—anything less will deny us the ability to maintain the high level of cutting-edge research and patient care for which we have become known. Here is an operations plan that demonstrates that level of need and use of funds. [Hand out the plan.] We will also need reendowment funds, which I will discuss in a minute.

We need an additional 17,000 square feet of wet lab space to continue our present research projects and initiate two other vital programs—they are an essential piece of our overall research plan. The space has to be as close to contiguous to the department’s existing research space as possible. When we last asked for research space we received from your predecessor a significant commitment that was never carried out. Hence, I would also ask that the space be committed to the department in a written memorandum that states delivery dates as well as its location.

The operations plan contains a complete description of our wet space needs and plans, the research position and the clinical leader position, which I have described to you, as well as a onetime dowry commitment of $3.3 million to lure the best and brightest to the new positions. It also gives you a quick overview of the significant accomplishments of the neurology department in the last four years. [Do you have any questions?]

I hope I have made clear the department’s needs and that the department’s request will be fully satisfied.

When Barbara finished making the presentation, the CFO did not indicate his support—or lack of it—for the request. He asked a few questions and informed her that he appreciated her effort and needed to spend some time with the dean to consider the proposal. Barbara left the meeting somewhat discouraged by his lack of commitment. But that cloud evaporated a week later when she received a call informing her that she would be allotted the necessary financial support and $2.5 million in dowry funds for the new faculty she sought and three-quarters (12,750 square feet) of the wet lab space she desired. In addition, she was told she would receive a confirmation letter within the week.

Although Barbara was originally reluctant to engage in the process of scripting—possibly feeling it below the job description and experience level of an esteemed medical department chair—she moved from hesitance to happiness and ultimately gave full endorsement to the process after her objectives were substantially granted. Barbara was finally able to plan her recruiting process and map out the move of members from her research team into the new space. She now considered the scripting process an instrument in her department chair’s medical bag.

Keep in Mind:

• Script in detail the needs you want to address as well as the funds and resources you seek.

• Aim high—with reason.

• Research the decision maker’s precedents and comparable situations prior to making your budget request.

• Use your peers as devil’s advocates or delivery coaches. Ask them to join you in the meeting if their presence is strategically meaningful and acceptable to the decision maker.

• Maintain a calm demeanor even if the decision maker does not appear supportive.

• Do not take a denial personally. There is not an endless supply of funds.

Denying a Budget Request

As corporate budget makers know all too well, it’s not just accumulating money that can be challenging—it’s parceling it out. Anybody who manages an organization appreciates it is a limited resource that must be reasonably rationed in the business and personal worlds. Every organization has to set a budget for each of its operations and divisions to ensure that tasks are adequately financed and ultimately performed. With any budget request, the issue may simply be who gets what. But how that decision is communicated often presents a challenge.

Whether denying all or part of a request, the message has to be delivered clearly and sensitively so the turndown is understood and the requester is left only minimally frustrated. Motivating people to perform at the highest level is a key component of leadership. The leader doesn’t want to deflate his or her team with a harsh denial (except perhaps in the case of frivolous requests, which are not the subject of this chapter).

The scripting process will facilitate crafting a clear and respectful communication.

The key to a smooth budget denial is a well-expressed rationale. A subordinate who is given a rational basis for being turned down is likely to feel better about his organization and his manager than one who believes his carefully constructed request has been summarily dismissed. Spending some time crafting the denial—and then trying it out on another manager—will build a better case that can serve as both an explanation and a guide for future conduct.

It can be useful to convey a sense of all of the competing interests for funds and the limitations on satisfying the requesting party’s wish. If a devil’s advocate is not available, you might read your message aloud and be your own devil’s advocate by adopting the requester’s perspective. You might ask yourself: how would it feel hearing the denial as it is currently crafted?

Bill, with whom I developed a friendship at the gym, was head of his department at an advertising company. His job included administering and monitoring the budget for his division. One day, one of his team leaders, Sam, approached him with a budget request of nearly $7,500. Sam wished to upgrade to the new version of InDesign, an Adobe software application used to lay out posters, flyers, and other documents. He also wanted to bring in an outside consultant to educate the department on the most efficient way to use InDesign. While Bill valued Sam as a member of his team and a skilled artist, he knew he could not grant the request. Not only were funds very limited, but only a small fraction of the division used InDesign to any extent, and an entire day allocated to learning how to use the program would put his team behind in more time-sensitive work. In addition, the existing edition of InDesign used by the company—while perhaps not as effective as the new one—was adequate for most required tasks.

Bill decided to script out his denial prior to meeting again with Sam to make sure he would not inadvertently offend his employee. When he reviewed by reading aloud the first draft of his script, he realized that he’d focused too much on the utility of the request and might insult Sam’s intelligence. Bill needed to treat Sam and his proposal with more deference if he wished to maintain esprit de corps so vital to the success of the company.

So Bill revised his script and was ready for his meeting with Sam. They met in the conference room adjacent to Bill’s office. After exchanging pleasantries, Bill looked across the table at Sam and stated:

Sam,

I wish that I could give you better news on your InDesign budget request. While I understand your desire to upgrade, I hope that you can understand the large number of competing requests I receive and the compelling nature of so many. Because of limited resources, I have had to use what funds we have to buttress the needs of the production team. Your department has been so creative in developing ideas that production can’t take advantage of them all and utilize them effectively with clients. So we have decided to bring on board additional team members in production—a decision that we believe will benefit us all. Still, I know having a request like yours denied can be frustrating—so can I answer any questions for you?

[Wait for questions if any. When completed, close with the following if appropriate.]

Why don’t you keep me posted on what you see as material deficiencies created by the existing InDesign program that might be resolved by the new edition? And again, thanks for your good work and leadership.

Sam expressed some disappointment, but appeared to accept Bill’s decision. Bill thought his acquiescence indicated understanding, but he did not receive any requests or ideas regarding the InDesign program from Sam in the year following the discussion. Despite Sam’s lack of communication on the subject, Bill felt he had done everything he could to make the decision palatable.

Keep in Mind:

• Rather than a flat refusal, a respectful explanation of the denial will go far to maintain motivated team members.

• A cogent rationale for the denial based upon reasons that include limited resources, competing interests, and overall organizational welfare will help assuage disappointment.

• If no devil’s advocate is available, be your own. You can read the message aloud and put yourself in the position of the listener.

Discharging an Employee Who Is Also Your Friend

Managers sometimes have unique relationships with different members of their teams. Most, if not all, hopefully fall on the positive side of the ledger. Some may even lead to close friendships. As a result, a manager may find himself in a bind if he shares a close bond with one of his charges who is underperforming and lacks the ability to improve. It can become awkward if—after trying to steer the employee to a better track—the manager determines that his friend must be terminated for the good of the company. The uncomfortable task then requires communicating the termination with the hope of minimal damage to the personal relationship.

A manager’s explanations may not be sufficient to overcome the employee’s hurt feelings and preserve the friendship. But a script with a clear message may salvage a valued relationship. The message should express a willingness to give advice as the terminated employee seeks other opportunities and—assuming the manager can candidly support it—offer to write the former employee a recommendation.

No matter what the manager says, the terminated employee may only hear “termination” and effectively shut down conversation. You might then try to reopen a constructive dialogue with questions—“Do you understand why I’m saying this?” or “Do you have any questions?” Questions may help kick-start dialogue and open channels of communication.

As a teenager, I worked as a lifeguard at a pool in Philadelphia. One afternoon, I saw a seven-year-old boy and his younger sister sitting tearfully in the lobby of the swim club. I approached them and learned that they had just been informed of their dad’s sudden passing due to a heart attack. I took the boy, Ryan, under my wing that day and for the next five years was his “big brother” until I left for law school.

Years later, we were reconnected when my law firm’s hiring committee picked him to work in our corporate law department. Subsequently, due to a consolidation in the department and some economic changes—as well as his lack of experience in certain specialties for which the firm needed personnel—Ryan had to be terminated. As a result of my close bond with Ryan, I decided that I would communicate to Ryan the firm’s decision. As I was jotting down some notes, I knew that I wanted to let Ryan know that, despite the conclusion of his employment, my affection for him continued and to assure him that I would be there for him in the future.

Ryan,

Our lives have been intertwined for a number of years. I view our relationship as special and your coming to the firm was a happy occasion for me. So telling you that your work here will have to end soon is not easy for me. The economy and the scope of your practice capabilities dictate that your position will be eliminated. As of sixty days from now, you will no longer be associated with the firm. That is a difficult message for me to deliver to you.

But I also want you to know that during this remaining period, I and others here will support you as you look for other opportunities and we will also provide you with six months’ severance until you find a job in the event your search takes longer than the sixty days.

I suspect you are overwhelmed by the news. Do you have any questions? [Listen carefully and respond.]

Please remember, I view you as family, and just as I would tell any of my sons I tell you—when the shock of the decision subsides some, come to me for advice, references, and whatever other support I can give you.

Is there anything else I can explain? Would you like to have lunch tomorrow after you have had some time to digest this?

Forty-five days following our meeting, Ryan left the firm. He took a job in the corporate law department of an entertainment company. After a decade of hard work, he rose to the top of the company’s legal department and then moved to its executive suite. On my desk now sits a plaque commemorating a donation in my name that he and his wife made some years later to support a scholarship for at-risk children.

Keep in Mind:

• Use the two key elements of this situation—acknowledging the importance of your relationship and the finality of the decision—as a guide when scripting this message.

• Devote time practicing delivering the message to reduce discomfort.

• Be prepared for an emotional response and possibly a significant short-term change in your relationship with the former employee.

• Ask questions and express concern to restart the dialogue.

• Allow time for responding or venting.

• Make sure to follow up on that lunch.

Denying a Subordinate’s Request for Leave

Most of us are familiar with the stereotype of the tyrannical, inflexible boss, depicted in a plethora of films and television shows, from Swimming with Sharks to Wall Street to The Devil’s Advocate, who creates a hostile work environment. These bosses force their employees to work long hours while seemingly breaking their spirits and, at times, the law. Very few leaders want to engender that kind of employee antipathy. But there is a balance to be struck, because even the best bosses don’t want to be pushovers. There are instances when a manager must firmly say no. One of these situations arises when an employee’s request for a leave is not supported by company policy or contract. The request might be handled in a variety of ways: from granting the leave without questioning (being a pushover) to firing the employee for perceived laziness (being a movielike caricature). To establish a productive and satisfying work setting, the supervisor must find middle ground that denies the subordinate’s request while maintaining a positive relationship with him.

Many companies offer opportunities for leave for a variety of reasons. Absent a compelling emergency, the door to a noncompliant leave request must be closed. The denial should effectively communicate to the employee why the request is being rejected. The message should avoid personal criticism so as not to damage the worker’s relationship with the company. The employer should consider in advance the range of reactions that a rejection may provoke in an employee.

Pam, the production manager of one of our law firm’s clients, was approached by her employee, Margaret, with a somewhat unusual leave request. Margaret stopped by Pam’s office one Monday afternoon and explained that her childhood friend was having a shotgun wedding that very Thursday. She said her travel would necessitate taking off Wednesday through Friday. Pam, caught off guard by the sudden request, told Margaret she would think it over and get back to her the next day. Hoping to manage Margaret’s expectations, Pam also reminded her of the company policy that required employees to provide their supervisor with at least two weeks’ notice of any intended absences. Knowing that the request did not fit the “emergency” leave exception, a denial was in order, so Pam sought time to make some notes and organize her thoughts. Pam valued Margaret as an employee, but she also knew that her absence, even if only for three days, would make it harder to meet production deadlines during the company’s busy season and also set a dangerous precedent.

Pam wrote some ideas down quickly, among them expressing her frustration with Margaret’s disregard of company policy. When she read it over, Pam recognized that it was too strong.

She needed to erase all language that demonstrated dissatisfaction and simply remind Margaret of the rule in a firm but polite manner. The message Pam communicated to Margaret was straightforward. It said that although Pam wished she could approve the request, she needed all hands on deck this particular week and that the company policy, absent an emergency, could not be waived.

The scripting process completed, Pam stopped by Margaret’s workstation the next morning and suggested Margaret join her in her office. Within ten minutes, Margaret was seated across from Pam’s desk, filled with visions of flying out the following morning to join her best school friends at the wedding, at which point Pam looked across the desk and delivered her prepared remarks:

Margaret,

I really am sympathetic and appreciative of your desire to stand by your friend. But I also hope that you are sympathetic to my responsibilities to you and the other people here at the company. You see, we created the policy that requires two weeks’ lead time on requests for personal leave in nonemergency situations because of our tight production schedules when orders come in. Well, we are in one of those periods now and you are essential to helping us successfully execute this customer’s order. [Margaret may start to respond at this point. If so, let her speak and get whatever she has off her chest.]

I understand how you feel about this wedding and that you consider it an emergency, but we have been consistent, since the beginning, in considering emergencies to be extraordinary medical or personal need occurrences.

So, Margaret, I cannot grant your leave, but would be happy to consider some time for a trip to visit with your friend and celebrate her marriage next month.

Pam stated her reasons for denying the request while also expressing her appreciation of Margaret’s hard work and firmly reminding her of the policy. Although Margaret was disappointed she would miss her friend’s wedding, she seemed resigned to Pam’s decision. About seven months later, Margaret made another leave request. This time, she was sure to give two weeks’ advance notice for leave so she could be at the same friend’s baby shower. Pam sent me her story and script after I told her I was working on this book. Her note to me included this assessment: “Scripting has empowered me to be a better manager.”

Keep in Mind:

• Keep the language and the tone professional. It is best to communicate in a respectful manner, even if the facts don’t warrant it.

• If the employee has not already explained it, ask for the reasoning behind the request so the employee feels he or she is being listened to.

• Give the employee a clear rationale for why the request is being denied.

• Know and explain the repercussions for the company if the employee’s leave were granted.

• Offer the employee an alternative course of action that fits the policy.

Offering Constructive Criticism

Dispensing constructive criticism is one of the most important tasks a manager has. But, let’s face it, much of the criticism that we offer to business colleagues—and to family and friends—simply doesn’t come out as intended. It’s often delivered with little forethought and can cause more harm, in the form of bruised feelings, than good.

Presenting criticism constructively is an art. It’s not only what you say that’s important, it’s how you present it. People are often squeamish about delivering negative messages. Their reluctance often causes them to avoid direct criticism—which means they don’t do it enough to become accomplished at it.

While every conversation is different, scripting can offer guideposts to make such uncomfortable situations more manageable. Knowing you have the right language to fall back on can embolden you to offer critiques that will be valuable to the targeted employee and organization.

It can be helpful for managers to remember that many people desire feedback. Employees whose job performance is flawed often would prefer a frank conversation with their supervisor—and the chance to improve—before the imperfection erodes their standing within the organization. So giving clear and constructive direction, along with the opportunity to ask questions, enhances the likelihood of these employees elevating their performance.

A newspaper editor once told my writing colleague, Jeff Barker, that his reporters should never be surprised by criticism they receive in their annual performance reviews. Their supervisors, he said, should communicate frankly enough that the staff should be aware of their on-the-job weaknesses—maybe a tendency to miss deadlines, or to not develop sources—by the time they receive their appraisals.

Some people, of course, will resist all but the most positive feedback. But most will take it to heart. “People can do something with the feedback probably 70 percent of the time,” Karen May, vice president for people development at Google, told the New York Times. “And for the other 30 percent, they are either not willing to take it in, it doesn’t fit their self-image, they’re too resistant, in denial, or they don’t have the wherewithal to change it. And the reality is that most change happens in small increments. So if you’re watching to see if someone’s changing, you have to watch for the incremental change. It’s not a straight line.”

Randy had recently begun working as a midlevel editor at a video production firm. Two years out of college, he was younger than most of his colleagues and clients, which included small businesses and nonprofits.

Randy was technically skilled and creative, but his supervisors had detected a problem—he talked incessantly on the job. Randy’s excessive chatter—he might talk to coworkers about a movie he had seen or his impending weekend plans—was slowing down work in the editing room. His colleagues were already laboring to meet deadlines editing public-service announcements and other video projects. Randy’s talking wasn’t conducive to a professional work environment.

Marshall, Randy’s immediate supervisor, heard about the problem from some of the other editors. The others felt it would be too awkward to approach Randy themselves about it. They thought the criticism should come from a supervisor.

It was left to Marshall to determine how to approach Randy. He decided to speak to him after their workday ended so that Randy would not be embarrassed in front of his peers. To ease his nerves, Marshall wrote down notes and committed them to memory. It wasn’t exactly a script; Marshall had not learned how to script. But it was a rough equivalent that fulfilled the same goals—to make him more confident and prepared for the conversation that followed.

Here is a polished reconstruction of what he wrote:

Randy,

We like the job you’re doing in the editing room. You have a flair for the creative.

But we believe you can do even better.

I think you’re still getting accustomed to our work culture. As you know, we need to turn around video projects for our clients on tight deadlines.

This requires speed and teamwork. We believe both of these could be enhanced if you could keep your personal conversations to a minimum.

[Do you understand what I mean by this?]

We want to be collegial at the firm. That’s why we have our periodic retreats. We’re glad you seem to be making friends here.

But we need to keep the larger goals in mind. I know you want to avoid distractions on the job, and talking appears to take your attention—and that of others—off our clients’ needs.

I’m happy to discuss this more if you like. Do you have any questions?

After the conversation, Marshall was left with the impression that Randy had no idea he had been talking too much on the job. Probably, Marshall thought, Randy was still transitioning emotionally from a college frat-house atmosphere to a professional job site. He was still learning what constitutes appropriate behavior in the “real world.”

The bottom line is that—while Randy remained among the more talkative employees—the number and length of his editing room conversations declined. He seemed to better understand what was expected of him.

Keep in Mind:

• Most workers want to receive feedback even if it is not all positive.

• Be direct and clear about concerns with the employee’s conduct.

• The feedback may not take hold immediately but rather over time.

• Focus on the effect the unwanted behavior has on the organization and ask questions to confirm that the employee understands the message.

Turning Down a Job Applicant

Many of us at some point have been turned down for a job. It can be a demoralizing experience. But being the manager who must inform applicants they didn’t get the position can be difficult in its own right. Few want to be the bearer of bad news. But there are ways to make the experience more palatable for both parties. And scripting can play an important role in this.

One thing to remember is that turning down a job applicant is not necessarily a disservice. The applicant may simply not be the right fit. Like trying to put a square peg in a round hole, hiring someone for a job for which they are not suited will only end up badly for both parties. Furthermore, months later, the applicant may be hired somewhere else—at a place where they are needed and appreciated. They may then believe it was fortuitous that events unfolded as they did.

The manner in which to deliver the news should vary according to the situation. Consider an applicant who joined hundreds of others in applying for a position online. It is acceptable for an employer to deliver a turndown in the same way the application was received—via an online message.

Candidates who have moved far along in the hiring process, and have been interviewed at least once, merit a different sort of treatment—a letter or phone call. Because it is more personal, a phone call may be preferable in the case of a candidate who wasn’t a perfect fit but shows promise for the future. A phone call is also faster, and that’s important. The shorter the waiting period, the better. No candidate likes to be kept in limbo. And it’s never wise to get into a lengthy discussion with a bitter, unsuccessful candidate, because it can turn personal.

Job applicants should be told—professionally and in concise language—that their skills aren’t the best match for the position. A manager may want to indicate that the candidate’s résumé will be kept on hand in case a suitable position comes along.

The best-handled turndowns can be an educational experience. Ideally, the candidate may recognize technical or other skills he or she needs to improve upon to be a better candidate the next time around. The employer should highlight the candidate’s strengths and explain that the company’s needs were better met by an applicant with different skills or qualifications. Remember to resist the urge to reveal too much about the decision-making process leading to the turndown so as not to open another whole line of inquiry with no intrinsic benefit to either party. The communication should be cordial, respectful, and—most important—to the point.

John, a friend of my writing partner Jeff Barker, was a high-ranking manager of a nonprofit environmental organization based in Washington. As the head of development, it fell on him to hire a new fund-raiser.

The organization had winnowed a list of dozens of candidates down to two finalists. Both had good “people” skills—they could be charming to potential donors and work well with their colleagues at the nonprofit. But one was clearly superior. He was more experienced generally and more acclimated to the landscape—the foundations and corporations that had been willing to make significant donations in the past. The other candidate, Jeremy, had a liability. He was not a skilled writer. The sample direct-mail appeals and grant applications he submitted lacked polish, and some contained grammatical errors.

John knew that Jeremy—whom he had interviewed several days earlier—would be let down by not getting the job. Always eager to please, John felt uncomfortable delivering disappointing news. He considered having to reject job candidates among the worst of all office tasks.

Once, he had turned down a job candidate who continued to question him—belittle him, even—over why he had not been offered the position. John had held his ground, keeping his responses short. But it had been an unpleasant experience for John.

This time, John decided to jot down some rough notes to ease his anxiety—a script of sorts. And before finalizing them, he spoke them out loud to himself—he was his own devil’s advocate. His notes looked something like this:

Jeremy,

This is John from [the nonprofit]. I’m calling about the fund-raising position you applied for.

We enjoyed meeting with you, and we liked hearing your thoughts about the position.

After speaking with you, we think you would have brought lots of positives to our organization, but we went with somebody whose qualifications we believe are a better match for the job. This person’s experience in grant writing and direct-mail campaigns gave him the edge.

One thing we noticed—and were impressed with—is that you have a friendly, easy manner that seems suitable for the sort of informal contacts people in our profession must make at receptions, conferences, and other events. That, combined with building your other skills, will take you a long way in this field.

We hope you will keep in touch and we plan to keep your résumé on file in case another position opens up that matches your skills. Do you have any questions?

We appreciate your interest in us, and we wish you the best of luck.

Having his notes in hand allowed John to relax during the phone call. Because it was not a face-to-face meeting, John found himself reading sections of the script verbatim to Jeremy to make certain his words were correctly parsed.

Jeremy was cordial. The only time John had to deviate from the script was when Jeremy politely asked what he might do to bolster his credentials.

This gave John an opening to mention the writing. “I’d keep writing those sample fund-raising appeals,” John told Jeremy diplomatically. “Polish them, hone them, and show them to people in the business—even just your friends—to get input on good writing and what works and what doesn’t.” Jeremy expressed his thanks, and John moved on with his next task.

Keep in Mind:

• Keep the turndown professional. Don’t allow it to lapse into a personal conversation.

• Resist the urge to reveal too much about the inner workings of the decision-making process leading to the turndown. That should remain private.

• Provide an explanation that can help the candidate going forward.

• Tailor the medium of the turndown—e-mail, letter, or phone call—to the seriousness of the job candidate’s prospects and to the level of contact with the employer to that point.

• Don’t keep the candidate waiting for a verdict any longer than necessary.