I tell you, the career fair is probably the most awkward time during recruitment. You’re there, with hundreds of other students, to sell yourself to companies who really are not going to remember you at the end of the day, unless you show up naked (Freshmen: take note). You’re there with the rest of your interchangeable class, asking the same dumb questions we’re told to ask, getting the same dumb answers they’re told to respond with, you distribute some resumes, you pick up some free goods, and you rarely hear from the companies ever again.
The last career fair I went to I took very seriously. I dressed in a sharp suit with a striking shirt and a matching tie. I had my portfolio notebook with my extra resumes and reference sheets. I had a smart looking pen and keen eyes, ears, and mouth for conversation. I gave out 15 resumes, hoping to get interviews and offers for summer positions. Well, after following up, I got no response from those 15 resumes, and I have an excellent resume.
Therefore, for this career fair, I was a bit more lackadaisical. Sure, I still dressed in some nice pants and put on my fancy shoes, but gone was the tie and jacket. If they weren't going to take me seriously, I wasn't going to take them seriously, but it's always fun to pull out those business casual outfits. Playing the game involves being aloof in that such way, not the tattered jeans I'd normally wear.
I still had my resumes, but only five. And I knew what I was really going for: free goodies. Stress balls, backpacks, water bottles, t-shirts, puzzles, soda, food, writing utensils, flyers, sticky notes, and any other crap that happened to be lying around on those employer tables. Sure, I had no interest in working for Morgan Stanley, but if they'll give me a pen-light and a water bottle, I'll pretend to be into investment banking. I think any right-minded person would do the same.
So I arrived at our latest career fair right at 11:00am, when doors were supposed to open. I was greeted by a long line wrapping around the block of my classmates, dressed in black suits with white button-ups and red power ties. Walking down the line to reach the end, I garnered more than a few stares ("bright blue is no color to be wearing when one is to be in the presence of Goldman Sachs representatives!!"). And then, slowly, we were let into the building.
After producing my school ID for verification, I was given a map of all the 160-some-odd companies represented, and shoved into the wilderness. There were three rooms to tackle. First, I walked through all three, getting my bearings as to who had the best goods and who would be most fun to mess with. Pepsi had free soda. Zuirch had backpacks. Yahoo had water bottles. And IBM had fake ice cubes with blue LED lights on the inside. I do believe we've found the winner.
The thing about being one of the first people to arrive at a career fair is that you can see all of the HR representatives from all of the companies waiting for people to come up to them. Some companies send two reps, and I've seen some send up to seven. Now that's a little overkill. If you send seven representatives, it's like saying, "We know we're so cool that we'll have at least seven people at any given time just dying to talk to us. And we'll probably have a queue, too." Though, there is something comforting about being a prospective employee, walking down these aisles and being flanked by HR reps, just dying to act excited and enthusiastic about you (yes you!) being their next entry-level employee.
After talking to eight or nine companies, their shtick started to sound the same. I would ask what majors they have openings for. If it was not my area, I would feign interest. They would explain the 2-month, 3-month, or (a record) 6-month training process. I would look into their eyes and lean forward with a smile and glimmer. When they turned to grab a pamphlet, I would eye what they had on the table. I would stare at their finely manicured eyebrows until I could see every individual hair. And then, when I used all my standard questions and somewhat probing questions ("Are you married?" "Do you have any plans for further education? Does your company support that?" "How much of what you're saying is in a script?") and I could tell their intonation was getting tired, I said a quick thank you, lunged for the false ice cubes, pen-lights, and sticky notes, shoved them into my Zurich backpack, and made my way to the next clan of human resource representatives.
Around 15 companies and conversations later in my life (and four resumes handed out to actualy potential employers who sounded somewhat interesting and exciting, where I didn't have to feign interest, major, or preferred occupation), I had exhausted all of the goodies and exhausted my endurance for this day's career search. As much as I would love to, I don't expect to hear from any of the four companies to whom I distributed my resume, in which case I've come out of the experience simply tired, hungry (I wasn't allowed to eat the employer-only food), and with some knick-knacks that will make some great stocking stuffers.
So why continue on with them? Tradition? Because you’re supposed to do it? No... it must be the free goodies. Believe me when I say I can always use more stress balls.
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