How adopting a dog helped my career search
I am a people-pleaser. I like to make others happy, even if that means less pizza or pie for me. That attitude made my first few years in startups very challenging. More challenging than they needed to be, really. That’s because being a people-pleaser often requires you to be dishonest. More specifically: it may encourage you to lie to yourself about what you really want or need for fear of upsetting or offending others. It was a difficult habit to break, and it still creeps up in my life sometimes — especially lately.
For the last few years, even while gainfully employed, I was looking for my next challenge. I truly enjoyed the early stages of building a team and scaling it up, but the politics and bureaucracy of a middle-stage startup dragged me down. I continued to nurture the growth of the team and tackled some of the hardest projects I’ve done to date, but my heart wasn’t in it as much as it once was. Despite really loving my colleagues and the challenges of being a leader, it felt like I was no longer pushing myself the way I had earlier in my career. I was desperate for a challenge. Unfortunately, I didn’t understand what I wanted, and that made getting it infinitely easier.
For a long time, I struggled to land the jobs I really wanted. I felt like I was screaming from a mountain top but no one could hear me. Eventually, I realized that my old friend People Pleaser was back. When interviewers asked about my ideal role or what excited me about a company, my answers were more representative of what I thought they wanted to hear, not what I truly believed.
‘I find the international sardine shipping industry fascinating and believe it is where my future is.’
‘My decade of industry experience has provided me with the foundation to clean the accumulated dirt, grime, and small food scraps out from the area between your refrigerator and stove.’
‘In ten years, I see myself polishing and shining the shoelaces on your Air Force Ones.’
In the moment, doing so feels right. It might even feel good. Your brain says they’re gonna love this! and then you get the form email from a no-reply email address saying:
‘Thank you for your application to Bart’s Durian Stand and expressing interest in our Assistant to the Regional Manager role. At this time, we have decided to move forward with candidates that more closely match the needs of the team.While this role was not a fit, we would encourage you to keep an eye out for roles we will have available in the future.
We appreciate your interest in Bart’s Durian Stand and wish you the best in your job search.’
And you feel dejected. Or even worse: you power through and move on to the next one, failing to consider what caused you to receive that email.
Can you imagine anything worse than accumulating a ton of these cold, empty, soul-crushing rejection emails? I can! Emails informing you that you were not approved to adopt the dog you absolutely fell in love with. Ouch.
Once my partner and I decided to adopt a dog, we casually debated what we were looking for. She wanted a puppy, but I didn’t want to potty train and wrap our furniture in protective steel to avoid it being chewed up. I wanted a big dog, but she was (justifiably) reluctant about our ability to control a 75 pound dog on a leash. All the while, we applied to any dogs that generally fit our gradually narrowing definition of ‘ideal.’
As we exchanged emails with more and more rescues, it became clear we were being people pleasers (yes, she is one too…), failing to portray our true selves when meeting rescue owners, the people who decided whether we could adopt a specific pup or not. In the moment, it’s a challenge to not worry what this noble person who has committed their life to the incredible task of finding wonderful homes for dogs is judging you. That concern was given too much weight in our minds for months, and we were no closer to adopting our future pup.
As the rejections — or more accurately, the ‘you’re not the right fit’ emails — accumulated, we decided to change our approach. When we stopped worrying about what people would think of us and started being honest with rescues, we started to feel so much better about the entire process. Even when we missed out on adopting dogs, we at least felt like we put our best selves out there.
Eventually we met the right rescue owner, at the right house, in the right neighborhood, with the right pup. And we were honest about what we wanted and who we are, and dove right in. So when the rescue owner asked us how we felt about the pup we were meeting not long after our arrival, we both looked at each other and said ‘we love him.’ Three days later, Charlie’s head was dangling out our car window, tongue flailing freely, as we brought him home.
What I learned from adopting a dog is that being honest about why you are a good fit and what you want is not just necessary: it’s a superpower. It enables you to close doors for yourself, rather than having them slammed in your face. This directly translates to applying to jobs. Communicating who you are, what you want, and why you are a good fit saves you time and mental energy— while doing the same for potential employers!
Now when I take that resolve and strength to a job application or interview, it is equally superhuman — especially because I still have some people-pleasers tendencies pop up from time to time. But really, it is simply a new way to best serve others and ourselves by ensuring that the right people end up in the right roles at the right companies. Just like how Charlie ended up with us.
