We only hear what we're ready to hear

Feedback can be tough sometimes, particularly where it relates to how someone is showing up.

It can be hard to hear that the way you think you're coming across isn't necessarily the way other people are experiencing you. And sometimes, you genuinely have no idea.

It's not uncommon for me to pick up, 20 minutes into a connection call, why someone is struggling to nail interviews and get the offer. I can often see it very quickly.

I'll be listening to someone and thinking: there's a real lack of engagement here. They're not quite present. The answers are stilted. There's not much two-way dialogue and I'm doing a lot of the work to keep the conversation going. There's no real sense of 'all-in' energy. No oomph. No zest. No fizz. No chemistry. No real sense that this person is particularly interested in the conversation.

And if I'm finding a 30-minute conversation challenging, despite my best efforts to put you at ease and draw you out, you've got to ask yourself what an interviewer might be experiencing in a 45-minute interview.

I'd probably need less than ten seconds to scan someone's CV and see where the problem is, too. Not because I'm some sort of CV savant. Because seconds is often all we've got.

In a crowded, competitive job market, where there is an influx of applications for every role, we have a few seconds to make an impact. Your CV needs to tell me who you are, what level you're operating at, what you've achieved and why I should keep reading.

It needs to sell you.

The job doesn't always go to the most qualified candidate

Sometimes it goes to the best job hunter.

And I know that's hard to hear.

We like to think that the person with the best qualifications, the most impressive experience and the strongest technical skills will automatically get the job. But that's not necessarily how recruitment works.

A key part of being a good job hunter is sales.

For a lot of people, sales is a dirty word. They don't like the idea of selling themselves. It feels icky or pushy or a little bit grubby.

I feel completely differently about it. I love sales.

For me, it's actually very simple. You have a problem. I have a solution. My job is to help you understand whether my solution is right for you.

That's exactly what happens when someone comes onto a connection call with me. I'm assessing fit. Are they a good fit for me? Am I a good fit for them? And if I think I can genuinely help them, I'm not going to be coy about telling them that.

I'm very good at sales. My conversion rate from connection calls is incredibly high. For many people doing similar work, five connection calls might yield one client. For me, three out of five is pretty typical.

I'm not telling you that as a badge of honour. I'm telling you because sales is a skill, and it's one I can teach.

And the same principle applies to job hunting. You have a problem you're trying to solve: you need a job. The organisation has a problem they're trying to solve: they need someone to do the job. Your job is to help them see that you're the person who can solve their problem.

That's sales.

Your CV needs to sell you. Your LinkedIn profile needs to sell you. Your cover letter needs to sell you. And your interview needs to sell you.

Not by pretending to be someone you're not. Not by becoming some slick salesperson who can talk anyone into anything. By being able to articulate your value, understand what the other person needs and make the connection between the two.

Everything is sales. Whether you're trying to win a client, secure a donor, get government funding, win a piece of business or land your next job, you're asking someone to choose you.

And if you're not comfortable selling yourself, that's something worth working on.

An interview is a conversation

This sounds obvious, but you'd be amazed how many people approach an interview as though they're sitting an exam.

They wait for the question, give their carefully prepared answer and wait for the next question.

I will die on this hill: an interview is a conversation.

You're there to learn about the organisation. You're there to learn about your would-be manager. You're there to work out whether you want the job as much as they're working out whether they want you.

So ask questions as you go. Respond to what they're saying. Pick up on something they've mentioned and explore it. Show that you're interested in the person sitting across from you, not just in getting through your list of prepared answers.

If you get to the end of an interview and still have major questions, you've missed an opportunity. What are you going to do with that information when there are three minutes left?

The best interviews have a bit of give and take. They feel natural. There's rapport. There's curiosity. There's a sense that you're both trying to work out what it might actually be like to work together. And this is where likeability matters. Even when you're a leader.

People want to hire people they like. They want someone warm and engaging, someone they can imagine sitting in a team meeting with, someone they can have a conversation with and someone who brings something to the room.

That doesn't mean you need to be everyone's friend. Your manager is not your mate. That's not their job.

And there's no point being nice but ineffective, or likeable but not held in high regard. You need competence, credibility, effectiveness and delivery. But likeability matters because people are still people. We want to work with people we enjoy being around. We want to know that when something goes wrong, we can have a difficult conversation with you. We want to feel that there's some ease there.

We're working more remotely and more flexibly than we used to, but that doesn't mean the human experience of work has disappeared.

And when I'm coaching someone, I'm paying very close attention to all of this. I'm listening to their voice, pitch, pace and tone. I'm noticing where they pause, whether they're making eye contact, what their face is doing, whether they're fidgeting or rocking, whether they're becoming defensive. I'm watching body language and hand gestures.

Not because I think you should sit on your hands and perform some sort of corporate version of yourself, but because sometimes the things we do naturally can either add to what we're saying or distract from it.

I'm listening to what someone says, how they say it and what they don't say.

It's deep listening.

Humans are craving humans

And this isn't just about how you show up in a room. It's also about how you show up on paper.

Your CV, cover letter and LinkedIn profile are opportunities to connect with another human being. Yes, they need to demonstrate your experience and achievements. Of course they do. But they also need to give me a sense of you.

What matters to you? What motivates you? How do your values connect with the organisation's values? How does your mission connect with theirs? Can I get a sense of the person behind the proof points?

Your professional documents shouldn't just be a list of achievements. They should make someone want to meet you.

This is one of the limitations of ChatGPT. It can produce something polished. It can make your sentences cleaner and your language more impressive. But it can't necessarily bring you to life.

It doesn't know the particular way you tell a story. It doesn't know what makes you funny, what makes you thoughtful, what makes you care deeply about something.

It can help you shape the words, but don't outsource the human part of your professional story. It's personality.

You're allowed to be human. Humans are craving humans.

What I've learnt from feedback

I've had some feedback over the years that has really stayed with me.

About ten years ago, I fought hard for a role to be re-graded and for a salary increase. I eventually got what I wanted, but it had left a pretty bitter taste in my mouth.

My manager at the time, who went on to become a mentor and is now a very dear friend, told me: 'Move on or move on.'

Basically, I'd got what I'd fought for. I could move on mentally, or I could move on somewhere else.

It was hard to hear. But she was right.

There's only so long you can be sooky at a workplace before it becomes a problem.

I chose to move on mentally. As it happened, I later fell pregnant and didn't return after maternity leave. But that piece of feedback has stayed with me.

Another dear friend once told me that I have exceptionally high standards for myself, but that not everyone is capable of meeting them.

That was hard to hear too, because I genuinely couldn't understand why everyone didn't want to operate at the same level.

I say something similar to my perfectionist clients now: having high standards for yourself is one thing. Expecting everyone else to have those same standards is another.

Not everyone wants to be the best. For plenty of people, good enough is good enough.

And then there was the feedback that feels hardest to share.

Someone once told me: 'You can be hard to love.'

It's not that I'm unlovable. But I can be hard to love.

I can make it very hard for people to help me. I find it difficult to accept offers of help and let people see me when I'm struggling. Which is slightly ridiculous, because I have absolutely no problem engaging experts. A business coach is non-negotiable. A great psychologist is non-negotiable. A hairdresser who makes my curls look amazing and with whom I can share my secrets? Also non-negotiable.

But letting my village help me is much harder.

Maybe that's why I understand how uncomfortable feedback can be. Sometimes you already know. Sometimes you're blindsided. Sometimes it stings. Sometimes there are tears. Sometimes you put up an absolute wall.

People will only hear what they're ready to hear.

But when you're ready, feedback can be an enormous gift.

Because the way you think you're showing up isn't necessarily the way other people are experiencing you. And if you can get curious about that gap, you've got something to work with.

If you're stuck, let's work out why

Why am I not getting interviews? Why am I getting interviews but not getting the offer? What am I doing wrong?

If you're at a loss as to why your job hunt isn't yielding an offer, get in touch. I'll give you my view.

Some of it might be hard to hear, but I like to think I deliver even the hard feedback softly. My job isn't to make you feel worse. It's to help you see what's getting in the way so we can actually do something about it.

Because you can't fix what you don't know. You can't fix something if you don't know where the crack is.

And if you already know what the problem is, but you've been told something you don't particularly like hearing, that's okay too.

If you're ready to make your peace with it and do things differently, it's not too late to make a career move this year. There's still enough time on the clock to be seeing the festive period in a new role.