As college students, we are trained to work incessantly towards a purpose; we are taught that we must configure our lives in such a way that they catalyze our careers. How can we catalyze our careers to embody the purpose of our lives? How might we plan for the future without limiting our activities for the sake of marketing ourselves to employers in a certain field? More specifically, when do the activities listed on our resumes make sense not only to us and our purposes, but also to our prospective employers and their values?
Imagine that you are filling out the application of your dream job. Before you continue the application, however, you notice more pamphlets for the Racing Student Unicyclists, the Lovers of Stupid Band Names and clubs that you have to stuff into a drawer before you try to refocus. “Wow,” you happily squeal as you fill the application with more information from your very long resume, “I don’t know how they could ever reject me; my resume is awesome, because I’ve done so many things! I’m so unique, and I’ll be their first choice because I’ve had so many different experiences!” You spin with glee in your swivel chair for a moment, then return to the desk.
Yet also imagine that further into that application for your ideal career, you glance at the section that says, “Please list years of experience in this field.” What if you didn’t even attend your major’s club more than once a month because you tried to extend yourself to each activity on campus? We’re humans with a purpose, and it’s a great risk one takes to extend in every direction as only an octopus can. If you and I feel sick at the thought of how many times we could have quit the host of awesome, diverse clubs in order to excel in a hobby related to our majors or desired careers, what does that say about us to potential employers?
I admit that it is exhilarating to see how long a resume can be; we as humans are programmed to think the concept of “more” equals “greater,” and the more activities a student lists on his or her resume, the more likely they will feel successful. However, many employers tend to notice less value in the variety of what we do than in our devotion to a few key activities related to our desired fields.
It is a rare bunch of employers who will understand the advantage of an employee’s long list of activities, regardless of how many different skills a student learns in different outlets. Fewer employers will allow a varied skill set to supersede requirements for career-specific knowledge in their applicants.
There also is an issue of whether or not one’s involvement in many clubs indicates superficiality. On one hand, employers may offer such a student a position, believing that the student will be prepared for just about anything precisely because he or she tried everything in college.
Oftentimes, though, we students are inundated with the idea that employers want specific experience in their employees. Medical school admissions, for example, look for a great deal of medical-related involvement in their applicants. If an applicant has such diverse interests that he or she has not invested most of his or her time in working for hospitals and private practices, the applicant may be rejected. Aside from the medical field example, employers want to envision how an employee will add to the company. It’s easier for them if prospective employees have some practical knowledge in the field; by hiring workers based on past involvement, whether in a leadership position or simple dabbling, the employer’s marginal benefit will not exceed the marginal costs of training and babysitting each new worker.
If you dread that situation in the ideal career application example, perhaps it’s time to lessen involvement in everything else and become immersed in the clubs that will propel you into your desired career. I would also venture to underscore the importance of sincerely enjoying those activities, because however successful a person may be in the long-run, they cannot be satisfied by that success unless they also enjoy what they do. Employers, like other people, use intuition, and an employer’s strong intuition can lead to equally strong initial judgments about his or her applicants.
Each reader probably has guessed that I will mention the importance of “finding a balance” in college activities. Yet I would guess that such equilibrium might lead to a flavorless resume, and a piece of paper that reveals a lack of devotion to one activity can lead an employer to question a student’s motives. Although this may sound extreme, I would question myself as to why I don’t simply choose my greatest aptitude and work in that specialized realm forever.
Next time we see pamphlets for different clubs on our desk, let’s remember that, no matter how hard we attempt to be octopi, we are humans with limits. Let’s place our bucket-listed resumes aside and really ask ourselves this question: Would employers see the same value in the hobbies in which we are most involved, and, if they would not, why would we want to work for them in that field? That may imply that our purpose and passion don’t coincide with those of employers in that particular field. Why am I being an octopus, stretching to retain a wide variety in life, if I am passionate about one particular major and career?
Perhaps the situation of needing to do many things rather than the few activities for our careers reveals a greater need to change not only our majors, but also our entire career paths. If one ultimately sees great value in something that in no capacity pertains to one’s major, there is a chance that the passion lies dormant in an entirely changed career direction. Go wake it up.
