I was recently charged with hiring staff for a client who gave me free rein to create the hiring process from start to finish. I’ve hired many times over the course of my career, but never had complete autonomy to try new things in hiring...so I decided to take full advantage of this opportunity to do things differently.
Because this client has a national presence, they wanted a candidate pool that included geographic, racial, economic, and generational diversity (a woman-centered organization, this client was seeking women, femme-identifying, or gender expansive candidates). Here’s what we did:
1. We viewed the job description as an invitation. Many job descriptions are written to tell things the employer thinks are important about their organization. Instead, we chose to view the job description as an invitation to candidates to join us in a deeper conversation. We wrote the description in an informal, conversational tone, with an eye towards making people feel welcomed, encouraged, and expansive in their thinking about whether or not the job was a good fit for them. We still listed desired skills and aptitudes, and we described the work and the organization—but we did it in an accessible, friendly way. I had several candidates remark in the first conversation they had with me that the job description was so compelling that they immediately wanted to know more.
2. We redefined how we thought about expertise. Degree requirements may be an important part of assessing an applicant if you are hiring an anesthesiologist or attorney, but for many jobs, they are an old school way to weed people out—people who may not have had access to degree programs, but who may have deep expertise and talent that they’ve honed in other venues or circumstances. We wanted people with formally and informally obtained expertise to be able to see themselves in the role. We explicitly stated in the job posting that experience or expertise need not be in the form of a degree or formal study. We did not ask for resumes. Instead, we asked people who were interested in the job to email me to start a conversation.
3. We put ourselves in new places. Many organizations post their job descriptions on one or two hiring sites such as Indeed and then call it a day. We posted on Indeed—but we also did research on other job platforms that catered to specific audiences, and put paid listings there, as well (this requires money, and it was money well spent). We asked colleagues to help us promote the job—and gave them newsletter blurbs, email templates, and links so that they could share with ease. We stretched beyond the organization’s “usual suspects” to make sure that more people would find out about the opportunity.
4. We talked to everyone who was interested. I’ve long been uncomfortable weeding people out of a process based solely on a resume. A one- or two-page description of work experience is not an adequate representation of the value someone can bring to a job or project. In this case, we didn’t have resumes to begin with, and I wanted the process to be a positive, relational experience for everyone, regardless of how far along they got. Whenever I got an inquiry, I scheduled a 15-minute call with that person to hear more about them and to answer their questions about the job. I talked to over 40 applicants; it was time-consuming and several of the candidates’ calls went past 15 minutes…..but it was so worth it. I got a great idea of who the candidates were and what made them tick, and established authentic connections with them. And a bonus--I feel confident that I could contact any of the candidates that we didn’t hire any time, and they would warmly receive my call.
5. We were candid about our organization and talked explicitly about our growth needs. This particular organization was historically majority white, and they were interested in racial healing and an expansion of their work so that more people could see themselves in it. We didn’t shy away from talking about race in our conversations with candidates, and invited dialogue about identities and how those identities might shape our ongoing working relationships. We were also exploring ways to re-imagine how we made decisions and shared power, trying to create an organizational practice that was not grounded in patriarchal models of dominance and power hierarchy. We shared this with candidates and were transparent about the fact that we anticipated lots of learning in the years ahead.
6. We communicated. We told every candidate our timeline and each step in the process, and if the timeline changed, we communicated that, too (and it did, because COVID). So many hiring processes are completely opaque about timeline and process, or set timelines and don’t stick to them but don’t let the candidates know. We wanted to be sure to pay attention to their experience in the process, and give them the information they needed to feel comfortable with periods of waiting in between conversations.
7. We evolved. These conversations were so dynamic that they challenged us to think and adjust—in terms of how we talked about the work, how we thought about things like hierarchy, and how dynamics of race and whiteness shaped our approach to power. I learned from these candidates. I told them so.
8. We listened. We avoided the “where do you see yourself in 10 years” questions, and asked questions that we hoped would open up a dialogue, rather the typical interviewee-in-the-hot-seat. We exchanged ideas and participated in a way that let them know about us, too. I kept notes of every conversation, and reviewed before every next conversation. When it came time to write rejection letters, I made a point of referencing something in our conversation that stood out to me, so that they knew they were heard and noticed. When candidates asked for feedback, I gave it. When I said I wanted to keep in touch, I meant it.
9. We asked for feedback. We genuinely wanted to know how the process went for them. This was important to me, so that I could learn to do better, and to continue things that made a meaningful difference.
The results? We had a large, diverse, dynamite pool of candidates—the most diverse pool I’ve ever had. We made new connections with people across the country who now have a better understanding of our work, and could very well be allies in the future. We hired two fantastic staff (instead of one, because they were both that good), and we’re building a team with intention and candor.
Here's what candidates said:
“The fact that you didn’t ask for a resume right away made it possible for me to apply. I never would have if I had been required to provide a resume as a first step.”
“That job description was so different and so real.”
“When I read the job description I had to know more. It spoke to me.”
“I’ve never seen a job description like that! I loved it.”
The job description just jumped out at me. I thought, I have to apply.”
“The more I learn about you and the way you are doing this makes me even more interested in this job!”
"I want to thank you again for the deeply intentional process you have used in this hiring process."
"I have been so heartened by this application process. It has felt so human. The time, energy and courage it took for you to try something different is part of why I am so interested in the position."
"Thank you for this thoughtful response. I appreciated hearing that. I wish {org} and yourself the best of luck and I will definitely stay in touch. If anything, this experience opened my eyes to more job possibilities and I am grateful for that."
"This has to be the most thoughtful rejection letter-- the intention put into it really speaks to the integrity of the organization and the way that you operate!"
"I am so grateful for your kind and thorough response. Honestly I am used to either not hearing back at all, or just getting some standardized rejection letter. This means a lot to me."
"This interview experience has led me to seek more involvement with this kind of work in the near future."