The Under-Cover-Letter Man, by Rena Silverman

Or, How Many Application Letters Does a Man Have to Write, Before He Can Stop Being a Man?

Few things are more demoralizing than writing job application letters.

“There you are trying at once to write something that shows that you fit in,” says John Doyle., “while at the same time you’re trying to show you’re different.”

Doyle knows this agony well. After the dot-com bubble, he lost his job as a computer programmer and he began sending out ten to fifteen letters per day. “There is nothing worse than trying to sell yourself to a stranger,” he says. “For me, it went on for month after month.”

After diligently sending out the letters and receiving no responses, Doyle finally decided to see whether his results would be different if he wrote a letter that was nakedly honest. So Doyle sat down and wrote the brazen truth about his strengths and weaknesses.

“I know how to program in Java Scripts,” he said in one letter, referring to a computer program that was required for the job. “By that I mean I’ve used the program several times before, but like everyone else I will go look in a book when I’m asked to use it.” He also wrote that he had been trained at a specific university, but then he added, “Truth is, I took a class once at that university and then I dropped out. But I’m pretty sure you won’t check.” He referred to himself as a “team leader,” which he qualified by saying, “In other words, my boss likes me enough that if you call him he will say I am a ‘team leader.’ “

No one responded to Doyle’s letter. “That’s no worse than what was the case in the past,” he points out.

Soon, Doyle began writing all of his letters with self-defeated frankness. And as his cell phone remained a buzzless box, he grew more surprised by the lack of reaction. “I was applying to all these places that said they valued creativity,” he says. “But then when creativity hit them in the face, they didn’t even know it.” He did not expect to get hired, but he did expect that at least one person in the several hundred human-resources offices he contacted would drop him a note simply saying thanks for the clever humor. It never happened.

In frustration, Doyle shifted his approach, moving from candor to absurdity.

Previously he had been sending his real resume. He replaced it with a sheet of paper with “RESUME” underlined at the top and the words “Hire Me,” and nothing else, in seventy-two-point lettering in the center of the page.

His cover letters featured a wry sense of humor. In one letter he explained that his prior job with Ford Motors involved leading the programming team in charge of assembly-line robotics. “My experience there taught me about the maximum speed and force with which you could have the robot insert a new part, without damaging the chassis of the vehicle,” he wrote. “I feel that this experience will translate almost seamlessly to Transplantation Services at your hospital, and I
think you will agree.”

If anyone was laughing, they weren’t telling John Doyle.
But one day he finally struck a chord, in a letter for a job opening at a bookstore. Having opened with the standard formalities about his sales experience and ability to work flexible hours, he wrote, “Should you require further information, or additional references, please do not hesitate to call. Also, do not hesitate to call if you are curious as to who would win in a fight between Ernest Hemingway and Morley Callaghan.”

It continued: “Callaghan did win, during a friendly match where F. Scott Fitzgerald kept time. He did not keep it very well, and the winning blow was struck after the time had gone over, leading Hemingway to accuse F. Scott of rigging the match. A ridiculous literary feud followed, along with some pretty good books by all involved.”

Doyle says he is still not sure why the bookstore hired him.

“I don’t know,” he said, “I guess they were looking for someone that customers would enjoy talking to but who also knew something about books.”

posted by rena silverman