Not sure about you, but I find the self-check-out system at most stores to be an elaborate ruse. An ambush of inconvenience that ends with me feeling confused, dejected, and as though a faceless demon just robbed me of time and vitality I will never get back.
Stores construct psychologically adept systems to lure you into this trap. Confronted with lengthy queues and the deceptive reassurance of employees huddled disproportionately amid the machines, seemingly waiting to pounce at the mere hint of customer distress, I have many times gravitated to the siren song of the automated attendant.
Only to find that the novel combination of booze, bleach, and batteries in my basket not only earns me an instant red strobe — promptly ignored by the amused zombies who pretend to work there — but seems to land me on some sort of silent watch list. My hapless face is cataloged alongside my shopping habits in the database of hapless tits dumb enough to expect the promised conveniences of semi-automated commerce.
Several pratfalls later, having weighed and repeatedly re-weighed a solitary onion, the purchase of which I was ambivalent about in the first place, I am finally able to escape. I leave the store wondering why they asked me to do something only to harass, ridicule, and ultimately dismiss me for trying.
This is how people feel in the self-service job market of our day.
They are invited, cajoled, and begged to apply for roles.
They do so, not merely as humble creatures tempted to weakness, but as prospective employees. Professionals hoping to slot into a place where they can add some value and make a difference. And of course, earn a living.
Suddenly, they find themselves running a gauntlet, assailed from all sides by relentless questions, probing, and curiosities from beings they’ve never met. They turn over sensitive personal data, bare their personal views and formative experiences in interviews, and submit to assessments qualifying them for residency in Area 51.
And then, after an interval long and silent enough to buoy their hopes, they get an impersonal email from a complete stranger unceremoniously chucking them out the back of the process. Rejected.
“Thank you for your application for the role of Supreme Allied Commander of Process and Engineering Management II. Unfortunately, we will not be moving forward with your candidacy. We wish you the best in your search.”
And that’s it.
Without the insincerity, it would be content-free.
Whatever connections were made or felt in the interview are rendered meaningless. The time and effort invested are unappreciated and instantly gone.
No rationale. No feedback. Nothing to consider, nothing to challenge.
And zero empathy.
Now don’t get me wrong. Some rejection letters are totally deserved.
And once in a great while, there is a chance to discuss the rejection further with the prospective employer. Though most often, attempts to do so will be ignored.
But the main thing with a hollow rejection email is how it feels to the individual like they probably dodged a bullet. Like working for a company bad enough to send this sort of message would be like getting hemmed into a lifetime of self-check-outs.
Unfortunately, this has become the norm.
Which is what makes the exception so exceptional.
I came across a shared example of a rejection email someone received after an unsuccessful candidacy with Zapier, a software firm specializing in web application productivity.
This is the best message of its kind I have seen in 33 years of work. By a country mile.
Phil is given rationale for why he wasn’t selected.
Phil is given feedback, in the form of how someone else was able to create a positive contrast with his candidacy. This feedback doesn’t diminish Phil or tear him down. It highlights his opportunity.
Phil is given some things to consider. And should he choose, some things to challenge.
Most of all, Phil can feel empathy and genuine support. Zapier give him advice on where else to look for a role. And in the tone, timing, and style of the message, there is real human compassion … anticipation of how someone will feel to get a rejection letter and an attempt to soften the blow without being dishonest.
This is exemplary. It reflects well on the company.
I dare say that when an unsuccessful candidate is sufficiently impressed by how he wasn’t hired to go tell the world about it, the company’s brand is improved via one of its most unpopular and inherently negative actions. That is remarkable.
Some companies have no value system. Let’s call them nihilists. They don’t care how they make their money or who gets hurt. They lack basic humanity, but they are often successful nonetheless.
Most companies have value systems because they recognize a clear business interest. Teams unified by values are more productive. They give more discretionary effort. Retention is better. Morale is better. But these companies are nevertheless adopting values as instrumentalists looking to advance their interests, not necessarily as true believers in the values they propound.
The best companies believe in their values. They are genuine. They adopt and champion and protect values because it’s the right thing to do.
How do you distinguish between the fakers and the true believers? Well, there are two easy ways to tell how they really mean it.
First, if values cannot survive pressure, they were never commitments in the first place. Genuine companies find a way to preserve their values even and especially when the going is tough.
Second, genuine companies practice their values even when dealing with people who can’t do anything for them. For example, choosing to respect and honor the time and effort expended by people they are choosing not to hire.
Perhaps the single most telling measure of a company is how it treats people who can’t add to its bottom line. Every company is in the market to make money. But how a company does so really matters.
An email like the one from Zapier reflects a genuine company with values it believes in and practices for the sake of doing so.
Let’s hope it maintains this ethos as it grows.
US companies are leaving $1.9T on the table due to disengaged employees according to recent workplace research. The key to getting that value onto the balance sheet is to have a value system.
And all the better if you actually believe in it.
With acknowledgement to Bonnie Dilber, whose writings have influenced me a lot, which led me to take notice of her company.
This is on my radar today, and now on yours.
TC is an independent writer and keynote speaker who specializes in leadership, organizational culture, and value-driven performance. He has built elite teams as an Amazon operations director and a military commander.