When I started out in business, applying for a job was a rather formal and prescribed thing. The candidate sent out a cover letter expressing interest in working for the company (or in a specific open position), highlighting qualifications, and asking for an interview. This was folded up with a resume, stuffed into a #10, and sent out to unsuspecting HR people all over the country. At the time, 90 out of 100 of those were followed up with a form letter expressing appreciation and an apology.
Nowadays, the job search is a whole different animal. Ad agencies post about a job opening on their website, blog, Twitter feed, Facebook, or other. Candidates then go to a site, paste in a resume, link to a portfolio, and type in a cover letter (for which there’s a tiny box, presumably to encourage short and sweet letters. Admittedly, no one has the time to read a lengthy missive about why your experience on your high-school wrestling team qualifies you to be a copywriter). Then, candidates click “submit.”
What follows next is… well… nothing. If you’re lucky, you receive a “Thank you for your submission. We’ll let you know” email a couple of minutes later. But more often than not, nothing.
I long for the days of the cold, impersonal form letter. “Sorry, you suck in our eyes,” is way better than hearing nothing.
As I type these words, I have two applications that I submitted in the last week that are out in the ether. I’m still waiting for my form letter. For one of the openings, I’ll admit I’m overqualified. (In a future post, I’ll detail why that’s absolute bullshit.) For the other job, I’m the perfect candidate. Probably worthy of the position, certainly worthy of an interview.
So still I wait for the form letters that will never come. Because the form letter seems to be dead. And as for the form email, it was stillborn.
To all the agencies out there, impress me. Show me that the old way wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Show me that while the economy may have killed our spirit, it has not killed common courtesy. Have one of your designers put together a mimeograph-tainted, Mad Lib-inspired form letter with fill-in-the-blank fun. Then give an intern a crayon and have them go crazy.
For the form letter isn’t really dead. It’s merely waiting for you to breathe new life into it.
