For a change, I will not write about my favorite topic (girls). Some articles should be instructional. With many a final-year student hunting for a job, I thought a little help would be nice. Here goes. Learn from my experience. You'll go places.
Final year in college. Having cut classes in PEC (that's "Punjab Engg College" for the uninitiated) for seven semesters, and having nothing better to do, I thought the time was ripe for a change of scenario. Let's get a job somewhere.
So what if I hadn't attended too many lectures? Hey, I was a student of India's "Best Technical Institute" (Yes, we got such an award in my final year at PEC from an agency of dubious repute by the high-sounding name of HMWA, that translates to "Have Money, Will Award"). The news was all over the papers (OK, OK, a 4-line mention somewhere obscure in The Tribune). I got the clipping from the paper, and made an enlarged (1600%) copy to attach to my resume. This formed the bulk of my resume. I would have found it difficult to explain on the resume how I slipped from being the highest ranking student (C.E.T. zindabad) to the 80th position in a class of 60 (but that's another story) so I glossed over details by this newspaper clipping!
For you guys: LESSON #1: Your resume should highlight your strengths to the fullest!
I had this suit, you see. And this tie. And this brand-new suitcase. No, it didn't weigh me down. It was empty, remember. Except for my one-page resume.
LESSON #2: The contents are as good as the package.
The company that was coming next to campus for interviewing was HCL. Harakiri Computers Limited. What some companies won't do to sound Japanese...
Apparently, some high-tech jobs were up for grabs. So this class-mate of mine comes out, his head bent low. My turn to go in. I knock.
"Come in"
I did. There were three interviewers. How should I call them? "Left", "Right", "Center"? Hmmm... too boring. "1", "2", "3"... Confusing.OK, let's call them Tom, Dick and Harry.
"Mr Kathuria?" went Tom.
"No, actually, Ashish Kasturia. K-a-s-t-u-r-i-a. Pyar se log mujhe Kasti kehte hain"
"I thee! Athith Kathuria" Tom smiled broadly. It was then that I realized that the absence of most of his teeth made Tom speak like a Martian who'd had a swig too many.
"Yeth Thir", I replied sincerely.
LESSON #3: Stay calm. Speak with a straight face. Coz the interviewer can't.
After some introductory small talk, I gave the Three Musketeers a precious insight into my wonderful world. The world of back-breaking work, of daily poring over countless manuals, diligent lab-work, and that fundu microprocessor that I (never) designed. At the end of it all, I myself was surprised about how much work I hadn't done. Wow!
The time came to answer a few questions. Darn!
Question #1: Said Dick, his face as red as ever "Why d'ya want to join us? I mean, why not some other company?". This was a warm-up.
"Your company fascinates me. You guys are doing a great job! Wow! Market leaders in 10 years! Amazing! Harakiri is folklore for me since the day it started. I can see my dreams come true at Harakiri."
I hadn't heard of the company till the day before, but this is what you should say of ANY interviewing company. If you want the job, that is.
LESSON #4: A stupid question deserves a stupid answer that sounds not-so-stupid
The three exchanged approving glances. Anyone who loves Harakiri SO MUCH should be part of it.
Next question. Went Harry: "So, how creative are you?" Another dumb one.
"Judge fer yerself. Just one example. A coupla years ago they asked for a suitable name for the new PEC girls' hostel (for which they finally chose a dumb name like "Nilgiri", but that's another story). I suggested "Sahara" for two reasons: (a) the temperatures around the place are bound to sore like crazy, thereby altering the nearby terrain to resemble the driest desert, and (b) coz it's gonna be the sole life support system for the guys in and around the college, hence the name.
Now, you tell me. Is that creative or is that CREATIVE? Hey, c'mon.
Phew. I still have a chance. A fighting chance to make it through the interview.
Dick again: "Imagine you are suddenly, by some stupendous miracle, made the Chief Engineer responsible for the manufacturing of our D-RAM division. How'd you go about it from scratch? I mean, all the decisions..."
I thoughtfully mused over this. And then it snapped.
"No point in re-inventing the wheel. Outsource (buy ready-made, that is)." The three seemed impressed. They smiled. I smiled back. Weakly.
LESSON #5: Draw inspiration from past experiences. In the past, we had outsourced ("bought ready-made") our projects, reports and all.
A long silence. Then, Harry starts: "Many young engineers leave Indian shores for foreign countries like the U.S. How do we know you won't do the same after we train you?"
My face grew stern. Patriotic. Impassioned. Steam issued forth from my ears and nose (I've gotta tell you that trick sometime). You get the idea.
"My destiny is closely lined to that of my motherland," I banged my fist violently on the table. Tom swallowed a tooth.
"Even my very birth is proof. Dec 3, 1971. As the first Pakistani bombs pound Indian cities, the power goes out, and in the pitch black that followed, I got a lucky break. That explains how I came to be born on Sep 13, 1972. So you see how my birth followed when my motherland faced crisis. And I have vowed to see her through all future crises."
(At this point, I silently prayed to Mother America for forgiveness. I bit my tongue for the blasphemy I had heaped)
Point driven home. Dick mopped his brow. They wanted me. Real bad. I could see that. I was the guy. No doubt about that. But one last question...
"Why do electric connections have three plugs? We can understand two plugs, to complete the circuit. But three? How come?"
"You know why?" I said, giving them a dirty look for asking SUCH a simple question. "There are three plugs to match the three sockets in the wall - one plug for each socket." Elementary.
LESSON #6: Say what you know. Beating about the bush is for the Bushmen. Don't do it. And simplicity counts.
All three stood up jubilantly. Tom grabbed my hand and shook it till I hurt. Harry patted my shoulder. Dick's face was redder than ever.
"You did it, my boy! Welcome to Harakiri. You deserve it, you brilliant engineer, you. Lots of packaging and no real content. Loads and loads of BS. JUST what we need for our Marketing Department."
MARKETING?
And so it happened...