A B USINESS P ARABLE
HARPERS
RULES
A R ECRUITER S G UIDE to F INDING a
D REAM J OB and the R IGHT R ELATIONSHIP
DANNY CAHILL
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places,
events, and incidents are either a product of the authors imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is
entirely coincidental.
Published by Greenleaf Book Group Press
Austin, Texas
www.gbgpress.com
Copyright 2011 Danny Cahill
All rights reserved.
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Design and composition by Greenleaf Book Group LLC and Bumpy Design
Cover design by Greenleaf Book Group LLC
Publishers Cataloging-In-Publication Data
(Prepared by The Donohue Group, Inc.)
Cahill, Danny. Harpers rules : a recruiters guide to finding a dream job and the right
relationship / Danny Cahill. -- 1st ed. p. ; cm.
A business parable.
ISBN: 978-1-60832-133-9
1. Job hunting. 2. Employment interviewing. 3. Career development. 4. Interpersonal
relations. 5. Quality of work life. 6. Parables I. Title.
HF5382.7 .H37 2011
650.14 2010940053
Part of the Tree Neutral program, which offsets the number of trees consumed in
the production and printing of this book by taking proactive steps, such as
planting trees in direct proportion to the number of trees used: www.treeneutral.com
Printed in the United States of America on acid-free paper
11 12 13 14 15 16 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
First Edition
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
Since my divorce two years ago, I have become good at resisting men, and I have always been good at resisting headhunters, so when you put the two together, a male head-hunter has no chance with me. I know why they callI am a successful software sales rep with a massive network of clients, and Im an attractive woman. They want to know if I am happy. Would I like to hear about a dream job? But I dont think much about happiness anymore. So I dont return their calls.
Except Harper Scott.
Harper placed me eight years ago when I was first learning how to sell software, and then again a few years later. Hes been a successful headhunter for a long time. He seems to know everyone in my market space and everything that is going on. Harper is connected. But thats not why I return his calls.
Casey, its Harper. Do you really think you can get away with this shabby treatment? You dont send funny emails; you dont call. I am seriously considering starting a relationship with you just so I can break up with you and have you know my pain.
I giggled. Im thirty-four. I thought I left giggling behind.
We need to talk. Call me. Notice I am not leaving my number. If you dont still have it, all is lost.
I told myself to ignore his message. Ive been at my job for just over a year, and calling Harper back would mean getting caught up with the drama of interviews and the inevitable subterfuge with my current boss. Why bother?
So I held out. For about four minutes. I got his voice mail, left a message, and a few minutes later his assistant called and said Harper wanted me to meet him at one oclock at Maxs Oyster House the following Tuesday.
As I got dressed on Tuesday morning, I convinced myself that I was trying to make a good impression on the CIO that I was doing a demo for that afternoon. But why was I reaching for the black, form-fitting cashmere sweater and the charcoal grey skirt that even I, as my backsides biggest critic, know hangs and clings in a flattering way? Why am I giving this account the full Im very corporate, very astute, and wicked hot look? I pretended to recall my meeting with Harper as I put my hair up to expose my neck.
I sat in the restaurant for ten minutes before Harper showed. Nothing is more fiendishly calculated than his penchant for making everything seem uncalculated. He must be forty now, but could easily pass for younger. Flecks of grey accent his brown hair, and at six feet, he is still at fighting weightshoulders broad, waist impossibly narrow. My friend Hannah once asked me what he looked like, and I said, Big in the right places, small in the right places. She understood immediately.
Harper took his seat, folded his hands, placed them under his chin, and smiled at me. I looked him straight in the eyes, the same way I start any meeting, but I didnt know for the life of me why I was there.
Youre wondering why youre here. Youre a busy person, youre not looking for a job, youre feeling vaguely guilty about meeting with a headhunter on company time. And yet, its so good to see me. Am I right?
About everything except the its so good to see you part.
Im shattered.
Bounce back, Harper. I agreed to see you because Im in town rolling out a demo and because I was curious to see if you had gone to seed yet like most guys your age.
And have I?
Not quite.
An impossibly cute, young waitress excused herself for interrupting, took our drink orders, and told us the specials. Harper asked her how she was doing, and then told her he was a headhunter and when she was ready to start a career she should look him up. I rolled my eyes as she walked away beaming.
Youre pathetic.
Six degrees of separation, he shrugged. My network is my lifeblood. You dont know who she knows.
Im ready for your pitch now, Harper. I Googled you this morning.
Isnt that eerie? I Googled me this morning, too. Any new entries since 7 A.M. ?
Harpers ego could be a bit much, but then he redeemed himself. He took out his wallet and showed me the latest pictures of his daughter. I raved, because she really was fabulous.
A teenager already. Has it been that long since you first recruited me?
Dont remind me.
He leaned back, and I could tell the icebreaking was over. He was here to qualify a prospect that could make him money. I would be well served to keep that in mind.
So, heres what my research associate tells me. Nineteen months ago youre one of SAPs resident stars. Big territory, established key accounts, and overrides from three direct reports. W2 of over 330K. You leave and end up at an underfunded supply chain company where youll be lucky to make 225. It doesnt add up, Casey.
Im not going on any interviews, Harper. I like my job.
Were you sleeping with the boss?
What?! John was sixty-three, with yellow teeth and a unibrow.
So then, what? It doesnt add up and you know it.
I promised myself I wouldnt share this. A solemn promise, made at my bathroom mirror just five hours ago, now wafting gently out the restaurants open windows...
I got divorced, okay? Dont look at me like that. Its not that shocking.
No. What is shocking is that my research assistant missed it. Id fire her, except that Id be lost without her.
Its no big deal. We had no kids; we both had careers. We evaluated, we made a choice, we negotiated and distributed our assets, and we moved on.
Well, look at you and your stiff upper lip! Did you shake hands and say, Good luck?
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