Fitting In

I have no words for my reality. [ Max Frisch (1911–1991)]

Early on during my time as the science & technology dean (slightly less than two years ago), I called a gathering of the entire division to talk over some old and new business. Now, I guess my personal meeting-leading style is a bit different than other deans who have occupied this position: I remember mentioning things like “we all work too hard,” and that “we should take better care of ourselves,” and that “I’m not willing to die for this job”…that kind of stuff.

I think most would agree that I tend to be honest and direct.

Further, when I speak to things that I am passionate about, I typically have great energy. I’m expressive, I gesture, I emote. In sum, I likely exhibit a collection of personal characteristics and interpersonal communication styles that are different from your stereotypical, geeky, sometimes-reticent, always-in-his-head science guy.

Directly after one of these early meetings, I remember F coming up to me and exclaiming, “you don’t talk like any dean we’ve ever had here before!”

Now, at the time, I wasn’t exceptionally surprised by this remark. In addition to my science education (two degrees, a bachelor's and a master's), I also have a master’s in counseling. In case you didn’t know: this is quite an unusual background. While scientists tend to focus on theories, experiments, findings and ideas, counselors mostly attend to feelings, relationships, and personal growth. These are radically different approaches to knowing the world, and I admit that I probably am a pretty rare bird both in terms of my formal education and how I interact with the universe around me.

It seems, over time though, that the Division faculty here have rather gotten used to me and my non-traditional ways of talking and behaving. However, when it comes to job searching, I’m not so sure my, well, deviance is all that much appreciated. I’ve talked this over with M, and he agrees: when it comes to a job interview, a new group may not quite know what to make of me. “Could this be our new dean ?” [I can imagine some of them ( most of them) wondering...]

This topic has been more on my mind in the last few days due to another, more recent interaction: this time with T. As I was lamenting my lack of a job offer despite my ambitious interviewing schedule of late, I once again mentioned something like “I guess I just don’t talk like a science dean.”

Her comeback was a very quick, energetic, and expressive, “Jim, you don’t talk like anyone I’ve ever known !” She went on to say that, “in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone quite like you!”

Now, I’m positive that these statements were offered in only the most complimentary way. And, I certainly received them as such. Actually, such observations are (to me) pretty flattering. But, the more I’ve thought about the implications of these remarks, the more distraught I have become. In terms of locating a new workplace, how can I possibly find somewhere to “fit” if I am perceived to be so different? Who would want to hire me if I’m not “one of them?”

Well, it’s going to be hard, isn’t it? Actually, it HAS been difficult, and maybe this is one of the primary reasons I am facing unemployment: I am too different, and I really just don’t fit .

The question now is: where do I fit?

Issues and Challenges

I went for another job interview today. (Now there’s news!) The location happened to be in the greater metro area, but really, it could have been anyplace. It was a scheduled one-hour session with a screening committee, for a vice presidency position at a community college.

I showed up early to the Human Resources office, only to be informed that the interview was actually located in a totally different part of campus (driving distance away). After attempting to give me directions (although early to show up at HR, I was now going to be late for the interview), one staff member agreed to ride with me and show me where the committee was meeting.

The chair of the committee was standing in the hallway: waiting not only for me, but for a committee member who had disappeared. After a few minutes he announced we were ready. He led me into the room, and I found the “hot seat” easily. Everyone said their name and area, and the chair immediately said “[some name] has the first question” – and she proceeded to read it. No putting the candidate at ease, no explanation of the process, no nothing. Just boom: the first question.

Now, I had spent some serious time today researching this place. They have problems. The faculty in the last week voted “no confidence” in the president. A consulting firm has been doing survey and interview work on campus to prepare a status report for the Board, to be delivered on June 26th. The local newspaper has reported that a very long list of high-level administrators (the names were given, and I know some of them) have left since this president has taken over. A recent editorial identifies him as “controlling, egocentric, power hungry and suspicious.”

OK: so the first question was something about “issues and challenges of faculty.” (Note: they just jumped right into content, there was no obvious question on the list of fifteen actually designed to solicit information about me. It appeared that they had structured quite an academic exercise.) I started by saying that I had hoped to have a dialog with them today. Given the question about “issues and challenges,” I said that I knew the college had them, but I wanted to have a discussion about what was going on there on campus. I stated that I believed they might learn a little bit about what I know in this rigid question/answer format, but not who I am and what I could bring to the college during these troubled times. I was interrupted and informed that they had a process to follow. I said that given the current issues and challenges of the college, I had at least an hour’s worth of questions of them. I was informed that we had 50 minutes total.

I respectfully withdrew my candidacy and drove home.

And I Say It’s All Right

How do I best say goodbye?

This is the question that tumbles around in my brain as I prepare to convene the faculty and staff of the Science & Technology Division one last time.

Tomorrow afternoon I will gather the group together, do the routine business, then have a little chat with them all about my imminent departure.

I started to get to know everybody on the morning of September 15, 2004, during the first Division meeting I led. During my “introductory message” (that’s what I had listed on the agenda for the meeting), I pretty much gave them the Reader’s Digest version of my biography and how it was that I came to be standing in front of the room that day. I outlined the long and winding road of my life’s path, and I hope it made some sense how a person (me) could have earned degrees in chemistry, counseling, and higher education administration. And, how (weirdly) I had also worked a few years as a professional photographer.

I was hopeful, too, that maybe, just maybe, I was able to communicate that I had enough training, skills and experience to lead this large academic unit (even though I had never done the job before).

At any rate, I wanted to get to know them, starting by having them know me. My initial goal was to build relationships and trust.

Although I have had some up and down times here, my assessment is that I have led the division well. Certainly, last year at this time, when administrator evaluation forms were completed and then tabulated by our research office, just about everybody agreed that I was doing ok. In fact, many were downright enthusiastic about my efforts. I was humbled. Honored. Touched.

So, the time has come to publicly acknowledge that I will be moving on. It will be particularly difficult for me to report, since I don't know where I’ll be moving to. I had been hoping that my departure would be under different circumstances: maybe that I’d taken a position as a vice president someplace. Ah, but such is not the case.

It’s looking increasingly likely that I’ll be unemployed for a time...a state of affairs I had really wanted to avoid!

Maybe I’ll be able to share some more of my personal story. Or maybe not. I don’t know how choked up I might get. Let’s see what happens tomorrow...

Soundtrack Suggestion

Here comes the sun
here comes the sun, and I say
It’s all right

Little darling, it’s been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it’s been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun
and I say it’s all right

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces
Little darling, it seems like years since it’s been here
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun and I say it’s all right

Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes...

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun,
and I say it’s all right
It’s all right

(“Here Comes the Sun” – George Harrison)

Signs Everywhere

I guess if you’ve been paying attention, you’ve noticed that most of the photos I’ve posted recently have been of signs. Signs, signs, wherever I look. Big signs, small signs, commercial signs, hand-made signs; advertising, promoting, accusing, demanding. They’re everywhere!

So, I’m thinking: aren’t there signs made not of solid matter, but rather more like “signals from the universe”?

What’s going on? There are “signs” in my life that seem to be pointing in a positive direction. And it’s happening rather all of a sudden. I had those two interviews the week before last (and I’m still waiting to hear back about results and/or next steps). Now, as of this afternoon, I have three more scheduled in the next three weeks: for an associate dean position (Salem, OR), a vice president position (Aberdeen, WA), and a vice chancellor position (San Mateo, CA). The latter is with the San Mateo County Community College District (Bay Area), the place where I came in a close second for a dean’s position during fall term (and where I made a good impression and some friends, I think).

With all this interviewing activity, aren’t the chances pretty good that there will be some place that will fit? (One would think…!)

I’m choosing to believe that all these invitations are a good sign.

And it certainly feels better to be popular than not!

Soundtrack Suggestion

And the sign said “Long-haired freaky people need not apply”
So I tucked my hair up under my hat and I went in to ask him why
He said “You look like a fine upstanding young man, I think you’ll do”
So I took off my hat, I said “Imagine that. Huh! Me workin’ for you!”
Whoa-oh-oh
Sign, sign, everywhere a sign
Blockin’ out the scenery, breakin’ my mind
Do this, don’t do that, can’t you read the sign?

(“Signs” – Five Man Electrical Band)

Travelin’ Man

Yup: I made it to Corvallis, to Bend, and back. I’m exhausted but alive and well. It’s amazing how much living can be packed into a few short days should the opportunity present itself. My brain is abuzz with things to talk about.

Ah, where to start? Maybe with a list of topic possibilities, such as: the pleasing size of my tax refund?; the car/bicycle accident I witnessed in Corvallis?; an extremely rare ex-wife sighting?; how my body was reacting to the stress of this most-recent interview experience on Thursday morning?; how I played with my water-bottle cap during part of my interview time in Corvallis?; the drive across the mountains, particularly the blinding snow, rain, and hail storms I experienced (successively, not all at the same time) late yesterday afternoon?; or the state of exhaustion I felt last night after being “on” for five straight hours during interviews, then immediately driving four hours to get home?

I could probably write a decent little blog-entry essay on any of those topics. And, it’s possible I will. But of course, the heart of this week’s experience was the OSU interview. And, believe it or not, as I write this today, I’m struggling with the inclination to hold back in discussing the last two days’ events.

The Central-Oregon-based Oregon State University position I interviewed for, if I were selected, would quite likely make me a public or semi-public figure in Bend. There will surely be an article in the Bend Bulletin about the position and the successful candidate, whoever that is. So, I can’t help thinking: my name would be announced; somebody, likely the newspaper, would Google me; and here’s TechnoMonk’s Musings: my personal life totally on display for all the world to see. I haven’t kept too many secrets here! (Ohmygod! Maybe I should have thought of this earlier?!)

Well, I guess the reason this is even in my head, is that I believe the interview process went quite well. I walked away yesterday with the sense, and still feel today, that my performance was exceptional (if I do say so myself) and that I made a compelling case why I should be the successful candidate.

So there.

At this point, I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to go into any of the real details of the process or the personalities involved. Well, other than to say that they certainly did structure an experience designed to get to know their candidates. I’m pretty sure they have an excellent sense of me, anyway.

One little story might not hurt, though. As I was attempting to answer one of the questions posed by a committee member in Bend yesterday, I was talking away…and talking and talking. I went on for maybe three or four minutes (that’s a guess), and then, smiling at the group, I finally stopped myself. I said, “well, you know, I’ve been told that I’m really pretty good at giving ‘policy-speak’ kind of responses – you know, the kind of political non-answer answer that sounds good but just doesn’t really say anything? I think maybe I’m doing that here and should probably stop.” It got a little chuckle from the group, and the mayor of Bend made an observation, something to the effect, that given my skill in this area, perhaps I should run for Governor?

So, there was a little time for a touch of humor in the midst of much seriousness.

I’m told that Bend, Oregon gets, on average, about 300 days of sunshine a year. Even though I’d have to buy snow tires, I could probably handle that. 

Soundtrack Suggestion

Here comes the sun

Here comes the sun, and I say

It's all right

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here

Here comes the sun

Here comes the sun, and I say

It's all right…

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting

Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear

Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun, and I say

It's all right

Here comes the sun

Here comes the sun, and I say

It's all right

It's all right

(“Here Comes the Sun” – George Harrison)