In my previous job I was one of those cases where I supposedly “resigned” but was really sort of fired. What do tell prospective employers when they ask: “Why did you leave your old job?”
Welcome to a club with thousands upon thousands of members—virtually none of them card-carrying! After all, who wants to admit: I was asked to leave because I was in over my head and couldn’t deliver? Or: I jumped before I was pushed because my boss and I just couldn’t get along? Or: They told me I was never going to be promoted and gave me six months to look around? The fact is, irreconcilable differences happen all the time at work, but most people want to act as if the situation never happens to them. And so when they get out there on the job market, their impulse is to answer the inevitable “What happened?” question with make-nice mumbo-jumbo about bad fit or a burning desire for new challenges.
Such “excuses” may have an element of truth to them. Sometimes a boss or company situation is so untenable you just have to get out, and sometimes a job is too small for the person who holds it or is the wrong fit. And of course, no one wants to burn bridges, so a certain ambiguity around why you left may seem like the only approach.
But most prospective employers take vague, generic departure stories for what they can be: warning bells that a candidate is hard to get along with, an inveterate underperformer, or a career dilettante. Which is why there is a much better way out of the common hiring bind you find yourself in: full ownership. You need to say, “here’s why I left, here’s how I was responsible for the breach, and here’s what I learned from the experience that will make me a better employee for you.” Don’t pass blame. And just as important, don’t play the victim.
Make no mistake. We’re not suggesting you pour out every detail of your job implosion. We’re just promoting a perhaps counterintuitive level of specificity. We have a friend who, after 12 years with the same company, was asked to move on because he couldn’t deal effectively with direct reports who weren’t delivering and he just couldn’t cut costs in his operations, even in the midst of a downturn.
Interestingly, our friend didn’t respond to his firing quite the way you’d expect. Most people in his position become defensive and depressed, entering a state we call “vortex of defeat,” in which lack of self-confidence feeds upon itself in a downward spiral. By contrast, our friend took full accountability for what occurred. He looked prospective employers in the eye and told them: “I’m sitting here with you because I didn’t have the guts to move out employees who couldn’t meet their numbers, and I tweaked costs instead of taking the full-bore approach that was necessary. But I can assure you, those mistakes won’t happen again. Let me prove it to you.”
Within weeks, someone did. And chances are someone will for you, too—with full ownership. Granted, your “history” will not vanish. It’s risky to hire someone who, for all intents and purposes, was fired. Worse, it’s hard to explain upstairs. But your candor and self-awareness will be the counterbalance. Maybe not on your first job interview, but eventually—when you bump into one of the legions of people who have been there, just like you.
This question and answer originally appeared in Business Week magazine on June 18, 2007.
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