The Fishing Expedition

Fishing expeditions can evidently be conducted over the telephone, as I learned in a recent telephone interview. In this instance, the interviewer was not interviewing per se, but rather seeking a free instructional session. 

All was going well with my conversation with the Director of Business Development until we got to the topic of my experience developing business plans for a law firm practice. After I gave him an overview of the types of plans I have crafted (personal, practice-specific, client-specific) he pondered a long while, then launched into a series of questions that became increasingly focused on the process rather than the purpose. He seemed to me way too interested in the minutia of crafting a business plan (“Where did you get the numbers? How do you set up tracking mechanisms? Who did you work with in the Accounting Dept? Did you use a template? Who created it? What did the template look like?”)

Obviously, he had never crafted a business plan. Worse, I suspected he didn’t know exactly what a business plan was nor had it ever occurred to him that that such plans had a place in a law firm environment. I began to sense that the concept was a new and unexpected revelation for him and one that he could use to his advantage.  He continued to try to steer the conversation into a “how to” exercise, fully expecting me to give him the cow for free. So I began to respond in broad generalizations (“Well, that would depend on the practice.”). He began to get irritated. He wanted specifics. I wouldn’t give him any. He had nothing more to say and asked if I had any questions for him.

My suspicions were confirmed when I asked him to describe the structure of the firm’s marketing/BD dept. That’s when he revealed that a new CMO would be coming on board in September and that she would no doubt tinker with the current structure (Point of fact: new CMOs don’t “tinker,” they demolish, then spend the next few years confounding everyone and everything while they experiment with different organizational structures, reporting relationships and job descriptions. Heads usually roll. That’s how most C-level executives make a living, and grand ones at that.)

I thought, OK, that’s strange, and I told him so. I said I thought it a bit unusual (i.e., stupendously idiotic) to try to bring in a new marketing manager just one month before the arrival of a new CMO. He said there had been only one BD manager in the NY office and she recently left for greener pastures. He can’t imagine the new CMO would have any issues with that.

What I thought: Really? Well, I can. More to the point, I know what you’re doing asshole. You’re fishing for ideas that you can present to the new CMO as your own, in the hope of dazzling her with your business acumen and demonstrating how important and valuable you are in the hope of holding onto your job when the axe begins to fall.

What I said: Well, I wish you all the best with your new boss.

Upshot: Several months later, this outfit contacted me again, to schedule an appointment with the new CMO. She and I met in NY for about an hour and the conversation went well. I was then contacted a third time to schedule meetings with various partners. which resulted in a marathon session that ran from 10:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m. with no more than 5-10 minutes between each interview. During that time I participated in two videoconferences with partners in Atlanta and Chicago as well as sequential face-to-face interviews with an additional 4 NY-based partners and the new CMO. Around 2:00, I became aware that my brain function had seriously diminished, due to hunger or exhaustion or a combination of the two. Three-and-a-half hours of non-stop talking about yourself and the same set of accomplishments will do that to you. At least it does that to me. I was fried and famished and no longer cared when I found myself lost on a tangent light years away from my original point. “What was the question?” I asked, and I knew it was over. And it was. By the time I hit the last interview—a double-team set-up with a partner and the CMO—I had hit the wall. I just wanted to go home. I kept my responses brief, almost cryptic and asked no questions.  Eventually I did go home and two weeks later received the standard rejection letter.

Lessons learned:

(1)   You do not need to be on the payroll to expose yourself to the risk having your brain picked and your knowledge burglarized.

(2)   Stamina is highly prized by many law firms.

(3)   Marathon interviews require careful preparation. Eat a big breakfast, drink plenty of coffee, bring a bottle of water, and hope for the best.