Harper's Rules (15 page)

“Five minutes? What if a client wanted to schedule an interview or something was wrong with Madison? That's my son, Casey.”

Okay, everyone I know is having babies, and everyone is naming them after presidents. If I hear of one named Grover or Millard, I may renounce my citizenship.

The truth is, technology was supposed to free us up so that we would not have to be chained to the office in order to receive information. Instead we are imprisoned by it. We are petrified of missing anything. We are never not working.

For the first time in history, when asked, ‘If you left your wallet and your cell phone at home, which would you go back for, if either?' the majority of people polled say they would only go back for the cell. We will go without money or proof of identity, but we won't go without our real sense of identity, our connection to the world.

Technology exposes the truth about time-killing deals. We can't say we don't have time, we can't say we didn't get that message, we can't say we're not in a place where we can respond. If we say those things, we are only delaying, and a delay is usually a ‘no' on a deferment plan.

“So, Harper, you have been ducking me about Wallace Avery? You have bad news, and you haven't had the moxie to call and let me know. Right?”

Harper exhaled deeply. His voice seemed milky and distant.

It seemed I was about to lose my opportunity with InterAnnex, the only viable return to employment I had, and all I could feel was alarm at how tired and dazed Harper suddenly sounded.

“Nothing has been decided, so let's dial down the drama,” he began. “But yes, some concerns have surfaced.”

“I don't get it. What could surface?”

“He checked references, okay? Normal due diligence.”

“Of course he did; I provided them. My references rock.”

“One that you didn't provide apparently did not.”

“Who?”

“I don't know. Casey, this happens. I will deal with it.”

“How are you dealing with it, Harper? By sending in other candidates?”

I had gone too far; Leena felt she had to come to his defense.

“We haven't sent in even one other résumé, Ms. Matthews,” she said.

“You don't know what it's like, neither one of you. You don't know what it's like to be alone and have everything unravel.”

Harper laughed softly: a sad laugh—tired.

“I have to go, Casey,” he said, and for a moment I thought his voice would crack. “I will get to the bottom of this, and we'll talk soon about the realities of reference checking.”

“Okay. I thought everyone loved me. You'd think, given all the evidence to the contrary, I would know better.” I could see Peter handing a towel and a plastic bottle of water to his client as a reward for her set of squats.

“Leena, can you give us a minute, please?”

“Sure. I'll speak to you soon. Hang in there.”

I waited until I could assume she was gone. “Harper, I struggle daily with the question of just how good a person I am, but I am an excellent salesperson. I really am, and I just . . . I need you to know that. I don't care what someone said about me. I do care what you think about me.”

“Casey, I love you to death, but if you weren't excellent at what you do, if I couldn't place you and make money off you, I wouldn't waste a moment of my time with you.”

This outright lie made me laugh, which made him think I believed him, which made him happy.

“Are you okay, Harper? Give me credit for not asking until Leena was gone.”

“I am perfection personified. Bye, Casey.”

Who told Wallace something negative about me? An ex-boss? A colleague? It was so frustrating being judged without being able to defend myself.

I just wanted to go home. But as I retrieved my car keys from the rack, Peter yelled my name from down the hall. I could have kept going; I didn't.

“Were you just going to leave without even talking to me?”

“Yes.”

“But I have a whole speech.”

“Peter, look . . . no.”

“Let me give you the Twitter version then, 140 characters or less.”

“Go. I'm counting.”

“I didn't call you because I didn't know if I should. Did you hear anything about me? Something bad?”

I nodded slowly. I owed him.

He smiled the way actors do at the Oscars at the precise moment it is announced they did not win, and yet the whole world is watching to see how gracefully they handle the pain.

“It's not fair, you know. People talk, but not to your face. I would have told you; it just didn't seem cool on the first date. As much as everyone talks about moving on, no one really lets you do it.”

Had I judged Peter on a bad reference?

“Okay, you went over. But it was pretty good. I'd like to see you again.”

Before he could hug or kiss me, I turned and actually sauntered out.

Harper made me join Facebook. I told him I didn't want to, that I was in touch with everyone I wanted to be in touch with, but he called me on it. Harper is the only man
who calls me on things, at least the only man whom I continue to talk to after he calls me on things.

“By not joining, you are making a statement: You are too good for us.”

“Okay, I'll join. But I'm putting a picture of Starbucks up on my main profile. And I'm not tagging photos and relentlessly informing friends of my most trivial daily events.”

“As an unemployed person, it is irresponsible of you not to post your status and subtly request help.”

And as I logged in, sure enough, I had a response to my status (“Casey is crazy busy interviewing, still looking for that perfect-fit senior sales role for a technology company”).

It was from my old boss, Mike Ogilvy. He said hi, that he didn't know I was looking, and that he would ask around.

So Mike is off my list of suspects for whoever sabotaged my reference with Wallace Avery. I used the Find Friends function and, after taking a couple calming breaths, typed “Tyrus Conway.”

Ty must be in his early sixties now. Facebook has truly become ubiquitous if Ty comes up. Seven years ago, he was part of the company's mentoring program: twice a month a senior rep would travel with a junior rep to offer critiques and shore up any product knowledge or salesmanship issues. Ty called me “honey,” which I chalked up to a generational divide. But by the second meeting I had concerns: a hand on my backside guiding me through revolving doors; leaning in and whispering to me in a crowded elevator.

But the red flag vibe came after a couple of drinks while stranded at O'Hare. The ruddy face, the expansive mood, and the wide-open pores were obvious evidence that he had a drinking problem. Two hours later, when we got to the hotel, checked in, and walked to the elevators, he asked me what room I was in. I hesitated. His eyes narrowed and he dramatically put down his bags.

“Listen, young lady, you and I have to work together. I suppose you think every man in the world is trying to make a move on you. But I am fifty-six, married for thirty-four years to the mother of my children. No offense, you ain't worth losing her over. I asked which room you were in so that when our customer calls in the morning to schedule the demo, I could buzz your room. But just call me when you wake up.”

I apologized and gave him my room number. But as soon as I had gotten settled in— and had called Donald to say good night and to have him put Starbuck's head close to the receiver's mouthpiece so that I could hear her purring—I had a tap at the door. I opened the door two inches and could smell the bourbon on Ty's breath.

I began my “go sleep it off” speech, but I didn't get four words in before he pushed open the door, grabbed me around my waist, pinned me against the wall, and began kissing my neck and face.

It's a blur now, but I remember, in no particular order, a simultaneous gouging of his face and kneeing of his groin. I remember screaming, and because the door was still open, it was just a few seconds before a kid named Ron, delivering room service two rooms down, had Ty pinned on the ground. By midnight the CEO was reassuring me that this would be dealt with through both legal and corporate channels. I only bristled once when he told me he was sure I had nothing to do with provoking the behavior. “You're damn right I didn't,” I said. “I got served up to this joker, and I have rights, too!”

Ty never came back to work. I knew he was suspended, but I don't know if he eventually quit to spare himself the ignominy or if they fired him. Ty was not a bad person, just weak and ruined.

Was Ty Conway sabotaging my reference with Wallace?

Can anyone just say whatever they want about someone and because it's a “reference check” get away with it? Aren't there laws?

My answer came to me in the form of Facebook's instant messaging. I can't even bust Harper about being on Facebook when he should be working; networking
is
working for him. I told him I was confused about the ethics and legalities of reference checks. He responded that I should check my email. Apparently I had inspired another chapter for his book.

HARPER'S RULES
Reference Checks—What Are Your Rights?

On one end of the spectrum, one can check a reference and the report is absurdly positive: the subject walked on water; was not only the best worker/employee ever, but as a human being should have been canonized at the end of her first fiscal year. On the other end, if the reference is negative, it can be searing: the person was ineffective, inefficient, incompetent, and, from a personal perspective, whether the person was the Antichrist was openly and seriously discussed.

But is any of it true? What is the vested interest of the party making the statement? What bridge was burned, what transgression unforgiven? These questions are critical for a simple reason: hiring decisions are often made based on reference checks. And where is that grey line of slander or defamation? When does opinion become actionable? And how do we (companies, recruiters, candidates) protect ourselves?

Luckily for us, there are rules, rights, and laws.

The Fair Credit Reporting Act, (enacted in 1971 and amended in 1996 and 1998), governs the reference checking done by recruiting/search firms on behalf of specific and
prospective employers. The purpose of the law is to ensure that those charged with the responsibility of checking references exercise this duty gravely: “with fairness, impartiality, and respect for the right to privacy.” There are real teeth to this legislation. Willful failure creates a liability for the recruiter that could result in punitive damages. These damages, and associated court and attorney fees, will always be far greater than the fee the recruiter could earn by violating the law. No quality recruiter would take such a risk.

Your rights as a candidate:

1. Your recruiter must get your permission to check any reference.
   
2. Your recruiter must, upon request, accurately disclose the nature and substance of the information, but the source need not be disclosed.
   (So you get to know what was said about you, but not who said it. This drives candidates crazy, but it allows for more candor and less fear of reprisal.)
   
3. You have the right to receive the reference content in writing within five business days.
   
4. The recruiting firm must keep these records for two years.
   
5. Some info, if obtained through a third-party reference-checking firm, may not be disclosed: e.g., bankruptcies if over fourteen years old, paid tax liens, and arrest records, if over seven years old.
   

I still didn't get it. I can find out what was said about me but not who said it? If I don't know who is trashing me, how do I know whom to confront, or failing that, whom to leave off my damn list of references? And if the recruiter can only call the references I provide, how did Wallace get a bad reference Harper doesn't know about? I was about to call Harper to get to the bottom of all of this when I saw he had provided an FAQ section.

REFERENCE CHECK FAQS

Q:
Do companies really put any stock in references? Aren't they loaded? I am only going to give references I'm sure will say great things.

A:
Novice headhunters are always shocked when they learn that more than seventy percent of the time, the reference tells the truth, even if it could hurt a candidate's chance of getting a job. This is as it should be. These references are bosses and hiring authorities themselves, and they take telling the truth on a reference as a matter of duty and honor.

Q:
Does that mean my boss lied when he said he'd give a positive reference?

A:
Absolutely not! It means an experienced headhunter or HR professional asked penetrating and difficult questions. Keep in mind many references are done at the end of the interviewing process when you have had several meetings and people have started to form opinions about you. So when your ex-boss is asked, “Does he have a temper issue when his
authority is challenged?” and that is a matter of record in your work experience, he feels obliged to discuss it.

Q:
I am going on a final interview, and I'm pretty sure they're going to make me an offer. I have 101 credits toward my bachelor's degree, but I never finished due to some family stuff I will spare you. But I went four years and did all the classes my major required and . . . well, here's the deal. On my résumé it says I have a BA degree. Will they check? Can they?

A:
They can and usually do, and if you get caught, they will not hire you. Colleges and universities keep the strictest of records. (Their legal accreditation depends on it.)

Q:
Do you have to have perfect references to get hired? I was immature at my first couple of jobs and made some bad choices. Is it going to follow me forever?

A:
Here is what I tell all my candidates.
Find
me a bad reference. That's right! Because if you don't, the company will take your three “perfect” references and discount them. Here is what you must understand: companies are made up of humans making decisions. And these humans are flawed. They don't trust or believe references without negatives. Give me three excellent references and one “bad” (as long as the bad part is not morally reprehensible or occupationally egregious; I can't place a murderer just released from prison or an embezzler in a CFO's job) and companies will hire you. Give me just the three excellent references, and they feel they are not getting the whole story.