Two years ago, I was living in New Jersey but applying for jobs in Michigan. I wanted to move to the Detroit area because that’s where my girlfriend lived, and we wanted to live together after she finished college. The natural course of action was for me to secure a job first, and then move.

At the time, I imagined that finding a new job would be pretty painless. I felt this way because I’ve been rather fortunate when it comes to gainful employment: I have a Bachelor’s Degree in Computer Science, I have over seven years of experience in the IT industry, and I have a knack for resolving computer problems without making anyone feel embarrassed or stupid. Furthermore, every organization I’ve worked for recognized me as an exceptional employee, and therefore commemorated my contributions with an impressive letter of recommendation.

In other words, I felt like I was hot shit: I believed that potential employers would be just dying to hire me. Lucky to hire me. Fighting over one another to hire me. I was therefore surprised when six months passed without hearing back from a single job inquiry.

It seemed unbelievable. I applied to over 100 jobs, none of which resulted in more than a preliminary phone screening. I knew that I was qualified for the jobs I was applying for, but something about me was turning employers off. I convinced myself that it was because I lived 600 miles away.

That explanation made sense to me. After all, if I was an employer in Michigan who was choosing candidates to be interviewed in person, I would probably eliminate the applicant from New Jersey first. An in-person interview from an out-of-state applicant would require special accommodations — so unless they possessed extraordinary skills and experience, there was no reason to consider the out-of-state applicant over the qualified local candidates.

I felt like I had found the answer: Employers weren’t taking my application seriously because I wasn’t already living in Michigan. I’d been trying this “Get a job first, and then move” approach for six months without success. It became clear that I might wait forever before receiving a job offer while still living in Jersey — so I changed strategies. My new plan of action was to “Move to Michigan first, and then get a job.”

Everyone I knew thought I was nuts. When they heard I planned on moving out of state, they assumed it was because I was offered a better job. They couldn’t understand why else I’d be moving, and so the questions began:

“What did you, get a job in the auto industry?” — “Where will you be working then?” — “You don’t have a job waiting for you there?” — “Why are you moving then?”

I explained that’s where my girlfriend lived. I said that she would finish college soon, and that we wanted to put an end to this long-distance thing. I thought they would understand, but my “explanation” just caused them to ask more questions:

“Don’t you know that Michigan has the highest rate of unemployment?” — “Don’t you know that the job market out there is awful thanks to the struggling auto industry?” — “Do you really think it’s smart to quit your job in Jersey for some girl in Michigan?”

The thing is, Cassie may have been the primary reason I wanted to move — but she wasn’t the only reason.

First of all, I wasn’t in love with my career. I thought that moving away would give me a great opportunity to reinvent myself, and so I looked forward to starting with a clean slate in a new state.

Secondly, I had been tossing around an idea in my mind for a while involving an unusual way to earn a living online. Since I had experience in the computer industry, I possessed the knowledge of how to create and maintain my own website. I imagined that I could create a blog similar to the one I kept while I was in college, and that a popular blog could turn a profit using advertisements. If it actually worked, then I might not even need a job.

Finally, I felt like it was now or never. I was at a point in my life when nothing was binding me in place. I wasn’t paying a mortgage. I wasn’t married. I didn’t have children. I hadn’t invested 10-20 years into one career path. If I was going to do something risky, illogical, or downright stupid, then I’d better get to it before I lost my chance. I was afraid that saying “maybe next year” for too long might transform me into a middle-aged, do-nothing-outside-of-my-routine office worker that always complained about how I’m “too old” for change and that “I don’t have a choice anymore.”

So I did it. I resigned from my job, sold nearly everything I owned, packed up what was left, and moved away — all in the name of love.

It’s been an exciting adventure. I embraced my love for writing and set up my new website, LifeReboot.com. I wrote about being tired of the computer industry and my desire to reinvent myself as a writer. As my blog gained its audience, I learned that I’m not alone in my unending search for a career that’s both personally rewarding and financially stable.

For a while, I believed that I discovered my own personal paradise. I was doing what I love to do, and the money-making systems I had set up on my blog were earning a respectable amount of money. I was living my dream by writing to live, and I was proud of what I was doing.

Unfortunately, the fact that I am proud of my writing doesn’t negate the fact that it simply doesn’t earn enough to live off of.  For one year, I tried to see where LifeReboot could take me.  I wrote several popular articles that were featured on Digg, and whenever this happened, my site managed to earn a few hundred dollars in a single day.

It was something, but it wasn’t enough.  I wasn’t writing popular articles frequently enough to pay the bills.  Consequently, I spent more money than I earned for an entire year and depleted my savings.

I don’t regret it.  It was a choice that I made by my own free will:  I was investing in my dreams.  Although it hasn’t turned out as well as I had hoped, it’s a fair start.

Whenever I reach these points in my life — times when I see how something needs to change in order to move forward — I like to ask myself “What’s the next step?”  It helps me ignore the overwhelming aspects of the future and lets me focus on the now.

Right now, I need to find a job.  Unfortunately, right now is a rather bad time to be looking for one.  The state of the economy is such that more employers are letting people go than bringing people in.  As a result, I’m having a hard time finding anything despite my somewhat impressive skills set.

It’s interesting because when I began this adventure, I imagined that the option to “Get a dayjob” would always be there.  I would have never predicted that returning to the “wake work sleep repeat” lifestyle would prove to be this difficult.  In other words, I never thought that what I was doing was risky.  What I did think, was that my worst-case scenario was that I might need to get a job again someday.

Now that day has come, and I’m finding myself in a cruel “Career Limbo.”  I can’t seem to just pick up where I left off, because no one in this economically depressed region will offer my previous salary as a starting salary.  When I try to apply to positions that are one step above my last position, I’m told that I lack experience.  When I try to apply to positions that are one step below my last position, I’m told that I’m overqualified.  When I try to apply to entry-level positions in an industry unrelated to my major, I’m asked why I’m interested in working [part time, for minimum wage, in an unfamiliar field, etc.]

I’m reminded of the summer of 2002, the first summer after the attacks on 9/11.  I had difficulty finding a job that summer because people were reluctant to spend money.  Consequently, the places I was applying to were reluctant to hire anyone.  One restaurant owner even said “Sorry, I don’t hire smart people” after he found out I was halfway through college.  My knee-jerk reaction was “Well why not?”  He explained that it was a waste of his time to train new workers if they would only move on to something better after the economy stabilized.

I was reacquainted with this attitude this year, while dealing with the hiring manager of a Fortune 500 company.  After interviewing for a particular position, I was informed that they decided to hire a different candidate.  In an attempt to learn from the experience, I sent the hiring manager a message asking for pointers.  Some highlights from my message:

“Is there something I could have done differently in order to make a more favorable impression?  Was there anything I said that significantly reduced my chances of getting hired?”

Her reply:  “You mentioned that you were trying to pursue a career as a writer, so it seems as if you might want to do something other than [work for us] after a few years.  This information might make some potential employers wonder as to your dedication to the position and/or the company long-term.  Many employers look for a good return on their investment in terms of the training and benefits provided.”

I’m glad that she was willing to share what I quoted above, since most recruiters aren’t willing to disclose such information — but I think it’s a shame that I was penalized for being honest.  The question I was asked was:  “So what have you been doing in the past year, if you haven’t been working?”  I told them about my attempt to become a writer, and how I was using the Internet as my publishing medium.

Would it have been better if I said that I’ve done nothing in the past year?  Would it have been better if I said that I’ve spent the entire year searching for a job?  In short, would it have been better if I lied?

Not really — or at least, not long term.  Making up lies to give a “better” first impression during a job interview may help in the short term if it causes you to get the job, but lying will most likely come back to bite you in the ass.  I believe it’s  more important to be yourself during job interviews.

Incidentally, I was once in an interview where I was asked if I was familiar with a popular software package.  I said yes.  The interviewer named another, less popular software package.  I said yes.  He named a rather obscure software package.  I said “I’ve heard of it, but I’ve never used it.”  After that, every software package he named was something I had never even heard of before.  I shamefully admitted that not only was I not familiar with them, but I didn’t even know what they were.  “I’ve never heard of it.” — “I’ve never heard of that one either.” — “I’m sorry, I don’t know that one either.”  By the time he had finished naming the entire list, I was convinced that I wasn’t qualified for the job.

As it turns out, I had never heard of them before because the interviewer made them up.  They weren’t real software packages!  The reason he asked was to test to see how honest I was:  Was I the kind of person that is so eager to impress that I would lie about knowing the fictional software, or was I the kind of person capable of admitting that I didn’t know everything?  According to him, many interviewees are nothing but job beggars who will say anything to get hired.

In the above case, honesty clearly helped my chances of getting the job.  Although most interviews aren’t that cut and dry when it comes to being honest, this one helped me understand that it’s worthwhile to tell the truth.  I believe this also applies when you’re in a situation where the job is not a good match for you.

For example, I recently responded to a job posting described as a “Technical + Assistant.”  The job details specified that applicants should be able to perform computer maintenance on a small business network consisting of only three computers.  After submitting my resume and cover letter, I received an invitation for an in-person interview the following week.

Over the weekend I got a haircut, pressed my pants, and bought a new pair of black dress shoes.  On the day of the interview I suited up and drove to meet this woman at her realty office.  Within the first few minutes of the interview, it became clear that there had been a misunderstanding.

She was describing the position as though I would be her personal assistant.  Although the “technical” requirement of servicing the office computers was an important aspect of the position, it was a secondary to the duties as her personal assistant.  Once I realized this, I explained how I thought I was applying for a technical support position, and that I wasn’t interested in a position as a personal assistant.  I went on to say that we might as well end the interview right now.

I stood up, extended my hand for a shake, and apologized for wasting her time.  She agreed that we probably weren’t the best match for one another, and said that she appreciated my honesty.  I left feeling like a bit of an asshat for making a mistake, but it was definitely more courteous to speak up once I realized it.

So anyhow, although I’m actively looking for a full-time job, I’m still in Career Limbo.  Interestingly, I read an article today that suggests I’m not the only one: Raised in boom times, many Gen-X and Yers see their dreams go bust.

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I sat in the waiting room with one other applicant. He was older than me by about ten years. Judging by our clothes, it was clear that we were taking different approaches to this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

He dressed professionally. Black suit, white shirt, striped tie. His dress shoes were polished, and their shine matched well with that of his belt buckle.

I dressed casually. Blue jeans. Sneakers. A brown collared sweater that hid the geeky maroon “Computer Wizard” t-shirt that I was using as an undershirt.

I was trying to dress the part. I had heard that Google’s dress code was simply “You must wear clothes,” so I wore something I might wear to the office if I got the job. Sitting across from Mr. Business Suit, I started wondering if I made a huge mistake.

For whatever reason, Mr. Business Suit hadn’t acknowledged my presence since I arrived. He sat cross-legged with a magazine in his lap, half-heartedly thumbing through it without looking up. He kept this up until the Hiring Manager opened the door to the adjacent office and called his name: “Don?”

Don set his magazine down and stood up.

“Good luck,” I said hopefully.

He nodded at me and followed the Hiring Manager out of the room. I took pleasure noticing that the Hiring Manager wore sneakers and jeans.

Now that I was the only applicant left in the room, I started reviewing the materials I brought with me to the interview. In my “Portfolio” (a thin 3-ring binder) I had:

• Loose copies of my resume
• How-To Instructions and Screenshots from three of my Open Source Projects
• Two Letters of Recommendation from previous Employers
• A Thank You Card that I planned to mail immediately following the interview

I imagined that I had at least ten minutes until the Hiring Manager asked for me. I was therefore surprised when a petite woman entered the room and called my name: “Shaun?”

“Yes?”

“I’m Stacy,” she said, extending her arm.

I stood up, tucked the Portfolio under my arm, and shook her hand.

“Shaun Boyd. How do you do?”

“Just fine, thanks. I have good news for you.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Your application has been fast-tracked. I’ll be giving you a quick tour of our facility, and then I’ll introduce you to the team that’s interested in your background.”

“Oh my, that is good news,” I said through a huge smile. “How exciting!”

“Definitely. Follow me.”

As I followed her through the double doors and down the corridor, Stacy filled me in on what being “fast-tracked” meant. She explained that I still needed to be interviewed, but because my application was unanimously selected by an existing project team I was exempt from the first-tier “initial screening” interview. I would start at the second-tier interview, which would be conducted by current members of the team I might be working with. Stacy, a Senior Hiring Manager, would sit in during this interview to see how I interacted with the team members, and to answer any HR questions I might have about the position.

Stacy led me into her office and told me to have a seat. She typed an instant message onto her screen, sent it, and then proceeded to copy and paste the same message to four or five other people. She toggled through the responses for a few minutes before speaking to me again.

“We have almost 30 minutes until the entire team will be available to meet with you. Would you like to join me for some Free Lunch in the cafeteria?”

“Absolutely,” I said.

The cafeteria was intimidating. Nearly every station had at least half-a-dozen Google employees in line for their Free Lunch. Since they were already familiar with the selection and ordering process, they moved around the cafeteria with ease while I stood in place holding an empty tray. Stacy pointed to the different stations, told me the type of cuisine that was served there, and encouraged me to not be shy.

“Everything is always free, tasty, and nutritious,” she said, more or less reciting everything I had heard about Google’s cafeteria verbatim.

I got into the line for Chinese cuisine. I asked for a helping of General Tso’s Chicken over white rice. The chef asked me if I’d like some orange slices to go with my entree, and I said “Yes please!”

I joined Stacy at a round table in the center of the cafeteria. She introduced me to Tom and Anu, two of the team members who would be interviewing me once we finished our lunch. She then busted my chops a little by telling them how I chose to get Free Lunch instead of a tour of the facility, but they said I made the right choice. Anu scolded me for not taking advantage of the Slurpee machine.

Tom asked about the Portfolio I was carrying. I paged through it briefly, and explained that it was basically a detailed addendum to my application. I said that I’d like to show it to the entire team during the interview, if they’d be interested. He gave me the impression that they would be.

Once we finished lunch, we returned our trays and left the cafeteria. The four of us rode the elevator up together and got off on the floor where the meeting with the entire team would take place. I followed Stacy around a corner and through a large wooden door.

I stepped onto the boat and felt disoriented. I suddenly found myself on a sailboat with my father, in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, rocking violently in a complete mess of a thunderstorm. My dad was signaling for me to grab the lines near the bow, but before I could grab a hold of them a giant wave crashed into the broad side of the boat and knocked me overboard. Right before I hit the surface of the water, I woke up.

…

I’m jobless in Michigan. For the past month, I’ve been relentlessly applying to and interviewing for various local jobs with little to no success. As of last night, the job hunting process has permeated my subconscious mind to the point where I’m literally dreaming about it.

What I experienced in my dream was so vivid that I felt compelled to share it above. No, it never happened. No, it’s not an accurate representation of the application and interview process at Google. It is, however, more interesting than my recent experiences in the real world.

If I misled you, I’m sorry. I just wanted to take a break from writing cover letters to write something enjoyable. I hope some readers will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

96 Comments »

For over a year now, I’ve tried to earn a living as a writer.  When I began this journey, I imagined that I could always return to the 9-to-5 workforce lifestyle if the writing thing didn’t take off right away.  Now that I’m trying to find a job to supplement my writing income, I’m starting to wonder if I made some bad choices.

As you may already know, I’ve resigned to the fact that I cannot live off of my blog earnings alone.  In 2007, LifeReboot earned only ~$3500 for the entire year.  In order to cover my living expenses, I have been using savings from my previous day jobs.  Tapping into these funds for the past year has caused them to dwindle.  As I continue to watch them lessen, I become more and more anxious to find a job.

Currently, my “full time job” is to find a job.  I spend my days searching through as many job postings as possible.  I submit my resume along with a cover letter tailored to the specific position and cross my fingers.  As I’ve previously written, this “shotgun” approach to job hunting (i.e., spreading out your applications just hoping to hit something) is often ineffective.

If a particular position really appeals to me — because of location, starting salary, or other incentive — I’ll go the extra mile to make an impression on the employer.  I’ll fax my cover letter and resume to their HR department, so that my application is not just another unread message in their overflowing inbox.  I’ll ask my references to submit a letter of recommendation to the HR department on my behalf.

I’ve learned that the process for applying for jobs is extremely delicate.  I don’t want to come off as a job beggar — I want to demonstrate that I’m a resource person.  I believe that submitting too little information (for instance: no cover letter) makes it appear as though I’m not serious about the position.  On the other hand, submitting too much information (for instance: a cover letter, 3-page resume, 2-page letter of recommendation, and samples of my work) makes it difficult for a hiring manager to quickly assess how well-suited I am for the position.

Furthermore, any application strategy is subject to misinterpretation.  In the past I would often skip the step of customizing a cover letter for the position, under the belief that my resume had all the information the employers needed.  The 2007 edition of “What Color Is Your Parachute?” says that most Hiring Managers view someone’s application as a representation of their work ethic, meaning “no cover letter = lazy applicant.”

In other words, what I imagined could save the recipient time may have actually caused them to trash my application.  This potential for misinterpretation is present no matter what you do:  Provide too little, be interpreted as lazy.  Provide too much, be interpreted as an overeager job beggar.  When you’re blindly submitting your information to strangers, how can you know what is the best approach?

Since I have had so much difficulty even getting an interview for a job, I recently swallowed my pride and asked for help.  I approached my girlfriend’s father, who had offered me an entry-level position at his office when I moved to the area, and asked if there were any open positions at his firm.  He could only offer me a part-time position  with no set schedule — an “as needed” position where I would be called if “something came up.”  I understood his offer as a gentle suggestion that it would be a better option to look elsewhere for work.

So I continue looking, hoping that I’ll find something before my savings runs out.  I worry about the future, wondering how it’s possible for someone like myself to experience so much trouble finding a job.  I’m pretty sharp guy.  I did well in school.  I went to college under full scholarship.  I earned a computer science degree with honors.  I have seven years of experience working in the computer industry as a consultant, technician, or analyst — and yet I can’t find a job that pays above minimum wage.

I could place the blame on a lot of external circumstances:  the rate of unemployment in Michigan, the declining dollar, or the tanking economy.  I know, however, that I’ve had several jobs that could have been lifetime careers if I wanted them to be.  I could have settled for what I was doing, what I was earning, and continued living repetitiously for 40 years in a job that was “safe” — but I didn’t.  It was my own choice to leave those positions, and I left them on my own free will.

I made a choice to pursue my dream career as a writer because all of those other jobs left me feeling unfulfilled.  I imagine that even if I successfully find a job to help me through this rough spot in my life, the job will still leave me wanting more.

I want to do something significant.  I want to do something challenging.  I want to do something impressive…

…and I want to believe that every choice I’ve made has been my own.

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I had a friend in college who always told me “You remind me of my friend James.” When I’d ask why, he’d just say “You’ll probably meet him sometime.”

I didn’t meet James for over a year. Consequently, I had an entire year to develop preconceptions about him. After repeatedly being told “You remind me of James” I started believing that I must have a lot in common with him. I started believing that once we finally met, I’d see a lot of myself in him. I even imagined that when the day finally came, I’d basically be introduced to my long-lost twin. So when I finally met James, I was actually a little insulted.

John and I were playing cards in his dorm room when his cell phone rang. He looked at the Caller ID, flipped it open, and said “Sup homey?” — “You here?” — “Which lot you in?” — “Aight, I’ll come get you.” He closed his phone, turned to me and said “Know my friend James I’m always talkin’ about? He’s outside.”

John went to show him in while I cleaned up our card game. I was a little astonished when I caught myself straightening my shirt and fixing my hair in John’s mirror, as if I was meeting a blind date. When I heard John’s voice approaching through the thin dorm walls, I quickly wiped my palms on my jeans and opened the door for them.

It was in that brief moment where I pulled the door open that I got my first impression of James. He had been following John down the hall, and when I opened the door to greet them he flinched awkwardly. He wasn’t expecting the door to open, so when it did, he seemed to step behind John as if he was ducking for cover.

John spat out an introduction. “James this is Shaun. Shaun, James.”

I held out my hand for a shake. James wouldn’t meet my eyes and gave me the most reluctant “dead fish” handshake I’ve ever received. “Nice to meet you,” I said hopefully. A timid “Hi” directed at the floor is all he said in return.

We entered John’s room and John immediately went into “Host Mode.” He offered James a soda from his mini-fridge and unpacked a spare folding chair for him to sit on. James didn’t sit down right away, because he was admiring the selection of movie posters which adorned John’s walls.

At first glance, I had no clue why John would ever say that James reminded him of me. I wore a green hooded sweatshirt and jeans, while James wore a black leather jacket over his plain t-shirt and khakis. My face was shaved clean, while James sported a natural moustache. The only physical similarities we shared were that we were both skinny white guys with no visible tattoos.

When James sat down I tried to start a conversation with him. I thought that if I could get him talking, maybe he would reveal something about himself that could explain John’s comments.

Unfortunately, James wasn’t much of a talker. When I asked “So how do you guys know each other?” James only looked at John, expecting him to answer the question.

“We grew up next-door to one another,” John said.

That at least explained one thing: John is the most outgoing and gregarious guy I’ve ever known, who regularly parties with other outgoing people. It was confusing to me that he’d become good friends with James, since he seemed so shy. I concluded that they’ve most likely been friends since they were really young, and then grew up to become two radically different people.

But what is it about me that reminds him of James?, I wondered. When James excused himself to use the bathroom, I took the opportunity to find out.

“I don’t see it,” I said.

“What’s that?” John asked.

“You always say that I remind you of James. You don’t really think I’m that shy, do you?”

John laughed. “Yeah right. I don’t think anyone is as shy as James.”

“So what is it then?”

John paused for a moment, thinking. When he finally replied, he spoke with a definitive swiftness that indicated just how certain he was that he was speaking the truth:

“You’re both geniuses, with unique hidden talents.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“I’ll show you,” he said. The moment James re-entered the room, John said “I was talking to Shaun about your movies. He wants to see one.”

The transformation was immediate. A broad smile appeared across his face as James said “I’ll grab a tape from my car.” He dashed out of the room. Within seconds we heard the outside door burst open and slam shut behind him.

“I don’t understand,” I said. “I remind you of James because you think I’m smart?”

“No. You remind me of James because you’re passionate about something. You write. James makes movies.”

James came back holding a VHS tape. He popped it into John’s VCR and queued up his latest creation — a 10 minute movie called “Cinemaphobia.”

[Aside: The above version is slightly different than the version I remember watching in 2001. There was a longer introduction involving the “crazed fan” who recognizes James’ car and asks for his autograph. Furthermore, there was a scene where a make-up artist (played by John) applies make-up to James’ face after he washes it in the bathroom. For whatever reason, some scenes have been altered or removed from this version now available on the Internet — but these parts I remember are still referenced in the closing credits.]

As the movie played, all of James’ social anxiety disappeared. He enthusiastically described how he did certain shots. He talked about the props that he reused from his previous movies. It was clear that he was passionate about his craft…

…and he had good reason to be. It was 2001 — a time where most home users were still browsing the Internet using dial-up connections, and YouTube was nonexistent. At that time, the process of producing self-directed movies to show other people was incredibly unique. I had never met anyone else who had such a hobby.

After “Cinemaphobia” was over, James could not stop talking. He talked about his favorite movies and the different film genres that inspired him. He talked about the creative process and how he gradually learned different techniques through experimentation. He talked about film school and how he was nearly expelled due to the gory nature of his student projects.

This was the one and only time I ever met James Rolfe in person. The next time I saw him was over five years later, in a YouTube video, after he became an Internet sensation known as “The Angry Video Game Nerd.”

If you’ve never heard of “The Nerd,” don’t feel left out — he’s not what I’d consider a “household name.” That doesn’t change the fact that he has a cult following consisting of millions of nostalgic gamers across the nation and currently holds the #9 Most Subscribed channel of All Time on YouTube.

What surprises me most about these AVGN videos is how the James Rolfe I met several years ago was the polar opposite of his on-screen persona as “The Nerd.” I mean, James was barely capable of socializing before John encouraged him to show off his movies. The character he plays in his videos is an angry, in-your-face, trash-talking, f-bomb dropping gamer/comedian who is incredibly entertaining.

I admit, however, that his videos aren’t for everyone. I’m a fan because I fit his demographic perfectly. I grew up playing the same video games that he reviews in his videos. I’ve watched every episode — most of them more than once — and I enjoy the feeling of nostalgia I experience when he reviews a game I’ve played before.

The reason I’m talking about him today is because he embraced his passion and ran with it. After many years of making movies as his hobby, James’ Nerd series made him an Internet Celebrity. As a result, he was picked up by a website who wanted to pay him for new episodes. In a sentence, he found success by following his passion.

For a long time now, I’ve wanted to write about how I met James in college. I wanted to describe his journey to stardom, using his experiences as a demonstration as to what can happen if you follow your dreams and live passionately. The only thing holding me back was the fact that I didn’t truly know James, and I couldn’t accurately speak for him.

Incredibly, he recently made his 200th movie — “CineMassacre 200″ — a video documentary that he describes as “my own retrospective on how I got started making films and how my hobby evolved.” It was such a fascinating watch that I finally decided to write about James. Everything that I couldn’t say for him, he says for himself in the documentary.

(Possibly Not-Safe-For-Work Warning: CineMassacre 200 starts off with a humorous use of the f-word. There are also some occasional swears later in the film. If you’re at work, make sure to watch your speaker volume level!)

James: Congratulations on your 200th movie! You are an inspiration to a countless number of people — myself included — who hope to find success through their passion. Thanks for sharing your creations with the world. I hope you will find continued success throughout your life as a filmmaker. Cheers.

External Links:

• The Official Angry Video Game Nerd Website
• The CineMassacre Productions — James Rolfe’s Homepage
• ScrewAttack — Gaming Site that Hosts the AVGN series

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Finding a job using the Internet is kind of like playing the lottery. I say this because after five years of consistently playing the game, I still haven’t won anything. The process goes something like this:

1. You search for job postings using online classifieds websites.
2. You submit a cover letter and resume in response to a job that interests you.
3. You never hear back from anyone.

I’m exaggerating, of course. I’m sure that there are plenty of people who have successfully found a job using the Internet. Maybe they’ll read this and simply tell me I’m “doing it wrong.” Though that might be true, my point is that the majority of people who apply for jobs online must experience the same frustration that I do.

When I actually take a moment to think about it, I recognize how incredibly unsuccessful this process has been:

• I’ve used the Internet to apply for jobs — often casually, sometimes relentlessly — for at least five years.
• I’ve probably submitted my resume to over 1000 different employers in that time.
• I estimate that I received callbacks at a ratio of 1 phone-screening per 20 submitted resumes.
• I estimate that I received in-person interviews at a ratio of 1 interview per 5 callbacks.
• I’ve never actually been hired using this process.

Don’t get me wrong — it’s not like I’ve never been hired before. It’s just that I’ve always been hired as a result of some other process, such as:

• Using my college’s Career Services department. They put me in touch with a business that “hired” me for an unpaid internship. At the end of the internship, the business offered me a part time position. Once I finished college, the business hired me full time.
• Taking advantage of People Networking. I met a lot of people while working as a computer consultant. Some clients liked working with me so much that they preferred to call my cell phone directly instead of phoning the main office. When I continued receiving these direct calls after I was no longer employed at the consulting firm, I had to explain I was no longer working with “Big Consulting.” In most cases, the former client asked if I’d be interested in contract work.
• Doing something Spontaneous and/or Unorthodox. I once got a job just by walking into a restaurant between the lunch and dinner rushes and asking if I could work there. I had no idea if they were hiring. I had not prepared a copy of my resume to give to them. Most importantly, I had no experience working in restaurants. When the manager asked why I wanted to work there, I said “Because every time I drive past here, the parking lot is PACKED.” He liked my response so much he offered me a job.

So if I’ve had success using the above processes, why do I always end up returning to the online classifieds? Considering the fact that they’ve consistently demonstrated a 0% effectiveness rate for me, you’d think that I’d have the sense to explore other options.

The truth is, I gravitate towards online classifieds because even though they’re ineffective, they’re incredibly appealing. Here’s why:

Applying for jobs online is convenient. You search for a job using keywords. You find one that sounds promising. You attach your resume to an email message, type a corresponding cover letter, and click “Send.” The entire process involves maybe five minutes of effort. If you’re like me, you’re easily able to apply to two or three jobs during your lunch break.

It makes me feel like I have options. Job Category, Job Title, Job Description. Keywords, Salary Range, the number of miles from your zip code… When you apply for jobs online, you feel like the master of your own destiny. You’re selecting a future career on your own terms.

The more jobs I apply for, the better my chances. Applying for a job online is like fishing. Once you’ve cast your lure out into the water, the next step requires a biting fish. Since you don’t know when or where the fish will bite, you cast another lure in a different direction. You do this again and again and end up with dozens of potential chances to reel in an interested employer.

It helps me keep up appearances. In some social settings, you may be asked “What do you do for a living?” or “Are you still looking for a job?” or “Are you still (doing some job where your talents are obviously being wasted)?” If you’re applying for jobs online, then you can honestly respond with “I’ve applied to a few positions, but I’m still waiting to hear back from them.” It’s something you say to reassure yourself that it’s not like you haven’t been trying.

It gives me hope. I believe the main reason people browse through online classifieds is because they imagine that someday they’ll stumble upon their perfect career opportunity. You have a job — and although it’s not awful, it’s not wonderful either. So you spend a fraction of every workday secretly visiting sites for job seekers, always hoping that today will be the day that your perfect job listing appears: A job where you can do what you’ve always dreamed of doing. A job where you’re finally being paid what you’re worth. A job where life’s better.

In other words, the process of applying for jobs online is comforting. It convinces me that I haven’t settled for life as is, and that I’m striving for something better. It would be nice, though, if the process resulted in employment (for a change).

Until now, I’ve only discussed the application process from the perspective of a hopeful job seeker. While writing this article, I had an idea that would allow me to experience an alternate perspective. Namely, the perspective of a Hiring Manager.

In order to get a taste of what a Hiring Manager sees, I did something that is admittedly unethical: Using a popular online classifieds website, I created a job posting for a job that didn’t actually exist.

Creating a believable-yet-fictional job posting was easier than I imagined. I simply typed up a job title, job description, and required qualifications for a job that I myself might apply for. To help aid my anonymity, the site automatically hid my newly-created Yahoo! email address in the posting.

It read something like:

Computer Position Immediately Available

Office in (city) seeks knowledgeable Computer Expert to join our experienced team. Bachelor’s Degree in Computer Science or Technical Degree required. 3-years relevant experience required. Certifications preferred. $45,000 annually with advancement opportunities to $70,000.

I mentioned that applicants should indicate their salary requirements in the subject of the message. Within a few hours, my inbox looked like this:

I was amazed at the amount of people who applied to the position so quickly. I was even more amazed at the amount of people who were willing to undercut the starting salary of $45,000/year.

By the next morning, my inbox looked like this:

At this point, I felt extremely guilty about the number of people I was misleading. I removed the job posting from the website before it got any worse.

50 inquiries in less than 24 hours, all of them roughly the same:

To Whom It May Concern: Dear Sir/Madame: Hello:

I am writing you in response to the Computer Position.

I would be a generous asset to your organization. Please see my attached resume.

Please contact me so we can arrange a mutually convenient time to meet.

Sincerely,

Cookie-Cutter Applicant

Faced with an inbox of 50 such inquiries, what would you expect a Hiring Manager to do? Since most businesses are only interested in one thing — The Bottom Line — I’d wager the first person they’d call would be whoever is cheapest. In my small sample of applicants, that was the guy who wanted $16/hour for his salary.

From a business standpoint, even if this applicant could only do the job half as well as some of the other applicants, it’s still a good deal. The business would be paying diddlysquat for a person to take on the responsibilities of the position. At the very least, the business has hired a scapegoat to point a finger at if something goes wrong.

I had always heard that employers often spend less than 30 seconds per resume — and now I understand why. When you provide such a convenient way for people to apply for jobs, you get an overwhelming response. My posting was available for less than a day and I received 50 inquiries. Most postings are available for much longer, and Hiring Managers most certainly have more than one job opening posted at any time.

Consequently, Hiring Managers receive hundreds (if not thousands) of inquiries each day. It’s unrealistic to believe that every applicant can be considered for the position, even if they’re qualified for it. Making matters worse is that the vast majority of applicants are qualified for the positions they apply to, making it difficult to differentiate between applicants.

It’s interesting because I used to believe that applying to as many jobs as possible truly increased your chances of landing a job. Now I understand that would only be true if you were the only person doing it. The thing is, applying for jobs online is so simple that nearly every job hunter does it. As a result, you’re not only competing with people who are unemployed, but you’re also competing against people who are working jobs they’re unhappy with. The overwhelming competition is a consequence of convenience.

Most interestingly, employers generally don’t even like resumes. The 2007 Edition of “What Color is Your Parachute?” says that employers often prefer to find new hires based on recommendations from existing employees. Not only does it save them time, employers also experience a higher rate of success when trying to match potential candidates with their business. Statistically speaking, the needle-in-a-haystack process of sifting through resumes is often a “last resort” for most employers.

After having done the research, I’m no longer surprised that I’ve never gotten a job using this process. It all depends on whether or not you can manage to impress a stranger in 30 seconds or less. If you manage to do that, they’ll call you to immediately ask about your salary expectations.

This fascinates me because in all of the “mock interviews” I had in high school, it was emphasized that you should save salary discussions until the second in-person interview. My classmates and I were taught tactful responses such as “Until we’ve determined that I’m a good match for this position, I believe that any discussion regarding salary would be premature.” If the interviewer persisted, then we were to turn the tables by saying “Well since you’re the ones who created the position, certainly you had some figure in mind?” My teacher relentlessly reminded us that whoever mentions a figure first will almost always “lose” the negotiation.

It appears as if all of that preparation has gone to waste. The information we were taught is no longer valid. In today’s competitive job market, you can’t hold out until a second interview before discussing salary. Employers don’t have the time or interest in playing games, which is why they often ask about salary requirements in phone interviews.

Which brings me to my last point. There’s a lot of information about what the “right strategy” is when it comes to job-hunting. There are countless numbers of recommendations regarding “How To Ace an Interview,” “How To Spruce Up Your Resume,” or whatever else. The only advice that seemed 100% honest was given to me by a Hiring Manager.

I was invited to be interviewed for a position with her organization, but a different candidate was hired. I followed up with a message thanking her for her time, and asking if she had any recommendations that might assist me in my job search. All she said was:

“Every recruiter and company has their own take on things.”

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In high school and college, I had a lot of thought-provoking discussions about the future with my friends. We talked about where we were in our lives, where we were going, or how the path we were currently on didn’t really match up with where we wanted to be.

Frequently, these discussions ended up depressing us. We talked openly and honestly to one another about our plans for the future, and suddenly we experienced a daunting feeling of helplessness. As the conversation progressed we identified more and more obstacles blocking our path. What stressed us out even more was the amount of time that was required for overcoming these obstacles.

The conversations never accomplished much. We talked in circles often. We said a lot of things that everyone listening already knew. Ultimately, we arrived at the same, fairly obvious conclusion: Life ain’t easy. Once everyone had had their say, we’d sit in silence for a while — practically paralyzed by the overwhelming feelings of fear and uncertainty.

It was during these times that I lightened the mood with my signature one-liner: “Well, there’s always Plan B.”

Plan B: The “Backup Plan.” The thing to do when all else failed. The mere suggestion a hopeful alternative in a long, depressing conversation about the future sparked everyone’s interest:

“What’s Plan B?” they’d ask.

“I could be a bouncer,” I’d say — trying to keep a straight face.

They’d laugh. The idea of Shaun Boyd muscling troublemakers out of a club or bar was simply preposterous. I’ve never been in a fight in my life: I’m scrawny and non-confrontational. Consequently, I’m an absolute pushover. Anyone who knew me understood that my alleged “Plan B” was a ridiculous idea — which made it funny.

What’s even funnier is after years of using this line, always imagining it as an impossibility, I actually worked the door to a bar last night.

To clear up any possible misunderstandings, I’ll immediately say: No, this is not my new job. It was a one-time thing that just sort of happened.

The Scenario: Cassie and I were invited by our friend Sarah to a benefit concert. The charitable cause was “Gift of Life,” a Michigan-based organ and tissue donation program. Sarah recently lost her older brother Jason — a good guy and registered organ donor. When he passed, some of his organs were used to save the lives of others. Sarah arranged this concert and fund raiser to be held last night — on what would have been Jason’s 30th birthday.

We arrived early at Sarah’s request. She had been promoting the concert for over a month and was expecting a huge turnout. Consequently, she needed some help with all that needed to be done.

At the time, the bar was relatively tame. A few regulars were at the bar, chatting up the bartender. The first of the three bands was on-stage, setting up their equipment. The caterers were upstairs, setting up the buffet. We spotted Sarah speaking with someone (later identified as the bar owner) and made our presence known.

“What can we do?” Cassie asked.

Cassie was assigned to the merchandise/donation table. Sarah explained that her friend Xania, although not there yet, already claimed the duty of running the 50/50 raffle. She looked at me and asked “Hey Shaun, do you mind running the door?”

She gestured towards the “We I.D.” podium. It had been outfitted with a cash box and a homemade sign that read “$7 entry fee - All Proceeds go to the Gift of Life Michigan.”

I smiled. A chance to experience the impossible career path I had been joking about since high school had suddenly fallen into my lap. “Sure. I’ll run the door,” I said. Sarah led me over and quickly explained what I needed to do.

It seemed simple enough. Ask everyone that comes in if they’re here for the concert. If they are, then ask if they need tickets. If they already have tickets, let them through. If they need tickets, ask if they have tickets on hold or if they need to buy some. In the cases where someone is not here for the concert, explain that the $7 entry fee is for a fund raiser and invite them inside.

I familiarized myself with how the bills in the cash box were organized, pulled up a chair from a nearby table, and then proceeded to stare out the door while I waited for someone to come through it. While I was waiting, I went over the imaginary “flow chart” that had assembled in my mind and mentally rehearsed the questions I needed to ask.

“Are you here for the concert?” I finally asked an older couple.

“Yes, we’re Jay’s parents.”

Although I had been unprepared for this response, I reacted instinctually.

“I’m really sorry for your loss,” I said.

“Thank you,” the mother responded as they passed, “and thanks for your help tonight.”

The next group was a young couple who immediately drew out their driver’s licenses. When I asked if they were here for the concert they said “No.” When I explained that a fund raiser was going on and that it cost $7 to enter, they simply turned and left.

The first band kicked off the start of the concert, and for the next hour or more, everybody who entered the bar already had their tickets or had tickets on hold. Finally, someone arrived who answered “No” to my “here for the concert?” question, giving me an opportunity to try a different approach:

“Tonight we’re having a fund raiser for Gift of Life, an organ donation program here in Michigan. We’ve got three bands playing, and there’s food being catered upstairs. The food and entertainment is free — but we’re asking for a minimum donation of $7 from everyone here tonight.”

The man nodded, pulled out his wallet, handed me a $10 bill, and said “Keep the change.” I said thank you as I handed him his ticket and directed him towards the information table and encouraged him to help himself to the food upstairs.

Of course, not everyone was as generous as this man. I had one of the bar’s regulars try and slip past me, and when I stopped him, he got a bit loud: “I’m a regular here!” he shouted over the music. “Get Jackie, she’ll vouch for me!” I didn’t even know who Jackie was so I just let him by.

As the night went on the amount of people coming in slowed down. The caterers brought me a plate of food and for the most part, I just sat and people-watched while the bands played their sets. When the 50/50 drawing happened at midnight, the person who won was kind enough to donate their half to the cause.

When the concert was over and everyone had gone home, we pooled our totals from the different tables. The combined amount from the door, the donations/merchandise table, and the raffle totaled nearly $1600. It felt good to participate in a fund raiser for a good cause, and those who were left gave Sarah a round of applause for putting the whole thing together.

During the drive home, I thought about what an unusual role I took on in order to help out. Of course, I wasn’t a “bouncer” by definition — but I believe working the door to a bar is the next closest thing. It felt so surreal was because I was doing something that I had long considered impossible. I never expected I would find myself in a position to even attempt such a thing under normal circumstances, and yet there I was. The chance presented itself to me, and I gave it a go despite my lack of experience.

Have you ever done something that was so “out of character” you felt surprised that you did it?

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Today marks an interesting anniversary for me. One year ago, I arrived in Michigan after a two-day, 600-mile drive from New Jersey. At the time, I still had New Jersey plates on my car, I still had health insurance, and I still had over $20,000 in savings. At the time, I was also still on payroll (thanks to some leftover vacation time). At the time, LifeReboot was still only an idea in my head.

A journal entry from that time in my life reveals what I was thinking:

Tomorrow will mark the very first time in my life where I’ll be taking a serious risk. Most of me is ecstatic. Part of me is terrified. It’s this one terrified part of me that I’m trying to kill.

Six months ago I made a promise to myself. After submitting a written proposal to my employer asking for a raise, I gave myself a personal deadline. At the end of six months, I will either:

1. Receive a raise, or
2. Quit my job and move out of state.

My proposal more or less argued that I had been working outside of my job description for two years, and was being grossly underpaid for the amount of work I was doing. Although my letter was acknowledged and my hard work commended, I quickly learned that my request for a raise was not going to be honored.

Well aware that my time left with this organization was limited, I began taking the steps necessary to “reboot” my life. It was time to start over.

The process of rebooting my life is practically complete. Over the last six months, I have:

• Sold, donated, or thrown away everything I cannot take with me.
• Established new living arrangements in Michigan with the help of my girlfriend Cassie.
• Put in my final two weeks at the last job I ever want to have.

My apartment has been emptied, my car is packed, and all that remains left to do is drive from New Jersey to Michigan. I have no clue whether or not this will work out or not — but I’m doing it tomorrow.

Now is the time to do it. I’m young, I’m not paying a mortgage, I have no children or anything else binding me in place.

I’m gonna go live a little.

After a year, there have been some changes. My car has Michigan plates. My health insurance is nonexistent. My savings account has been tapped to cover my expenses, and only $5,000 remains. My vacation time is long gone.

I made all of these changes for two reasons: My relationship with Cassie, and my desire to create this blog.

It’s been an interesting year. I’ve published nearly 100 original articles, causing:

• Over 300,000 people to read at least one of them.
• Nearly 1,300 comments.
• Over 200 other blogs to link to LifeReboot.
• Over 2,000 people to email me.

The reactions I get from my blog cover the entire spectrum. Some people love me while others hate me. Some people email me to share their life story, while others send one-liners like “How old are you?” That reminds me how some people call me an “old soul,” while others say I’m too young and inexperienced to have anything worth writing about.

The same polarity is demonstrated by the donations I receive. I was surprised when a complete stranger gave me $220. I was just as surprised when a different stranger donated $0.01 — coupled with an explanation that it was all that my writing was worth.

The wide variation of reactions that I get from my blog constantly makes me wonder: “How many people subscribe to LifeReboot just to see whether I succeed or fail?” My original intention, after all, was that writing for LifeReboot could eventually earn enough advertising revenue to cover my living expenses — effectively replacing the need to work.

It hasn’t happened yet, and maybe it will never happen — but I’m trying.

I’ve always been one to give myself a set time limit to reach a certain goal:

• I gave my last job 6 months after asking for a raise. After those 6 months I would either have the raise I asked for or I would quit. I ended up quitting.
• I gave LifeReboot 6 months to earn an average of $10/day. If I couldn’t reach that goal, then I’d start looking for a 9-to-5 job. I reached that goal.
• When I reached my $10/day goal, I set a new one: In another 6 months, I hope LifeReboot will be earning $1000/month. That time is up, and my site earnings have actually gone down.

It’s disappointing when I fail to reach a goal I set for myself — but unfortunately, that sometimes happens. I’ve been “off the job” for a year, and my plan to earn a living online is starting to look like a failed experiment.

As I already indicated, there were two reasons I chose this path: Cassie and LifeReboot. I realize that if I tell myself that I still have time, and I continue using LifeReboot as my sole source of income, then I will be risking what I have with Cassie. She and I have been splitting our expenses 50-50 ever since we started living together one year ago. Unless I find another source to supplement my income, I won’t be able to afford my share of the expenses for much longer.

On some level, I’m disappointed. As I indicated in the above journal entry, I don’t want another job. What I wanted was to try and “write to live.” I wanted to take something that I love to do even if I’m not being paid to do it and see how far I could run with it.

When I first started, I knew the statistics were against me. I had read that only 1 in 100 people can successfully earn a living online. I had read that it takes an average of 33 months (almost 3 years!) for a blog to become popular. Regardless of the risks involved, I still wanted to do it — and so I did…

…and I will continue to. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that this is the end of LifeReboot. I’m just saying that this is the end of one particular chapter of my life. I’m about to reinvent myself as a worker by day and writer by night. Although it’s not what I originally envisioned for myself, I feel that it’s an appropriate “next step” — and it’s a great day for a life reboot.

14 Comments »

I was surprised to learn that my How To Ask For A Raise In 3 Steps article attracts many new visitors to my website. The reason I’m surprised about it is because this early article of mine has received zero comments since it was published almost one year ago.

In other words, the lack of responses caused me to think this article was unpopular. In reality, however, people were constantly discovering this article via Google searches: “how to ask for a raise letter” — “letter asking for a raise” — “asking for a raise letter” — etc.

In my “3 Steps” article, I did not provide a template for the letter I was encouraging my visitors to write. For this, I apologize — because it’s clear that’s what you were looking for.

Here is the basic template for a letter asking for a raise: [Click here to read more →]

8 Comments »

For the past four months, I’ve been collaborating with Jon Phillips of Freelance Folder.  I wanted a more professional and easier-to-read design for LifeReboot, and Jon was willing to make one for me.  Tonight, the new blog design went live.

As a former computer guy, I know that upgrades tend to create problems.  I’m expecting there will be some design issues on the site for the next few days.  Please excuse the mess while the kinks are being corrected.

If you want to report a problem with the new design, please describe it in the comments section.  A few requests:

1. Read previous comments.  Don’t repeat problems that have already been reported.
2. Indicate what browser you’re using.
3. Be clear and concise.

Thanks in advance for your feedback, patience, and understanding.  I hope you like LifeReboot’s new look!

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The number one topic people ask me to write about is relationships. On an average of once a week, I’ll get an email asking something like “How do you deal with heartbreak?” — “What do you do when a relationship is one-sided?” — “What steps do you have to take to make a relationship work?”

I’m reluctant to reply to these inquiries because I know that every relationship is different. Different people from different backgrounds. Different motives, different expectations, and different perspectives. The only thing that’s the same from one relationship to another is that they’re learning experiences.

In this article, I’ll be sharing some of the things I’ve learned from my past relationships. [Click here to read more →]

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