Why I didn't hire you - Your application stunk, literally

Finding a job has never been more challenging. In spite of that blatantly predictable generalization, I am still frequently amazed at how often people ruin their changes of being hired by me before I have a real opportunity to meet them. As a hiring manger, I have an entire toolbox full of reasons why I will not hire you. With hundreds of applicants vying for a single vacancy, part of my job is to knock out candidates who are not the right fit. Often I do not have to spend a great deal of time finding fault with a candidate. More often than not, the candidate does that for me. The freaky granny comes to mind.

Many years ago, I had a position open and as they often do, a recruiter promised me that he had found the perfect person for the job. I was not entirely convinced by her resume, but I agreed to meet with the candidate.

I emailed her our application and she came to visit me a few days later. The candidate was an older woman, which in book is a good thing. There is no age discrimination at my shop. I recognize that older workers often have tremendous experience and institutional wisdom. The more experience the better, I say.

So, I chat with the candidate and I am not entirely impressed. She is a maybe at best. As we wrap up the interview, she says a few things that make me start to doubt her fit. She backtracks on a couple of statements after seeing my reactions to them. By the end of the interview she has become a maybe not. Not hopeless, but on here way there.

She departs and back at my desk, I open the envelope containing her application. Our application is pretty thick and it takes a while to fill it out. Apparently, while she filled out the paperwork she decided to take a smoke. And what she did not smoke was a cigarette.

I opened the packet and my office instantly smelled like a Doobie Brother's concert. The smell was distinctive and unpleasant. I was pretty sure what it was. I asked a supervisor whom I assumed had more knowledge on the topic to come and see me. Fanning the papers out in front of her face I asked her is she smelled anything funny.

"That's weed," was the reply.

The candidate’s papers went straight to the no pile. Later, when I realized the smell was lingering, they went straight to the trash. Soon after, I felt unexpectedly hungry and went to Starbucks for a muffin.

Bottom line: any paperwork you fill out is the only physical proof I have of our visit. If you are given an application to complete at home, make a clean copy in case you mess the first one up. For heaven's sake, do not bring it back to me if it reeks of pot.