having been in the same role basically for more than 20 years.
The storm was severe and precipitous, and I started to second-guess myself for the first time ever.
By early fall, I was reaching outside my company to speak to economists, futurologists, and other resources who could point to the light at the end of the tunnel.
“They have turned the tunnel lights off,” my banking friends said.
Other CEOs confessed to their inability to hold it together; they were stressed at work and at home.
“I keep my chin up and try to pretend we have a plan and we will work our way out of this,” a CEO friend said. “But I have to wind myself up every morning to go to work; I am depressed and don’t have a plan.”
I was experiencing financial hypothermia: I knew I was freezing but lacked the will and energy to do anything about it. I had no control over the rate of decline, couldn’t alter its trend, and had no way to keep our clients close.
It didn’t matter what I did. “Atta boys” or stepped-up efforts to circle the wagons seemed to produce negative results. Our business continued to decline every month. Negativity was now the order of the day. Some partners were checking out for the summer to work on activities they enjoyed. After all, their financial opportunity cost was non-existent. “Why be at work when there is no work?” or “I make hay when the sun shines” were the comments I received. They wanted to stay home when the going got tough. Some were taking time to re-evaluate whether they wanted to be in our business at all. A handful were working 25 percent harder and earning 33 percent less.
All of our revenue producers work on commission. This was a good thing in that our expense line quickly mirrored the amount of revenue we were earning, limiting our financial exposure. On the flip side, group apathy and helplessness were spreading virally.
As it would turn out, while the Canadian economy allegedly got better a year later, employment figures got worse. As a result, in January 2009, the Association of Executive Search Consultants projected a worldwide decline of 44 percent in 2009 compared with 2008, a $5 billion drop for the recruitment industry.
Just to complicate matters, as job losses increased, so did the requests I was receiving from executives in transition to meet with me, their sole purpose being to hand me their résumés and sell themselves. I was soon overtaken with 200 inbound emails a day, requests to connect on LinkedIn, and calls from job seekers.
The tables had turned; now we were the searched ones. I knew the ritual well: Talented executives come in for 45 to 60 minutes to ask for counsel and help, and ultimately, to be considered for current (unlikely) or future positions that we may be seeking to fill. When we were engaged in a search on behalf of a client, job seekers became very aggressive, vying for consideration even when the role was not a good match for them. In the absence of a match, their focus turned to asking for advice about market conditions, for ways to market themselves so they would stand out in the crowd, for feedback on their presentation styles and résumés, or for tips on job search tactics.
Depending on the openness of these executives, a courtesy interview sometimes concluded with honest feedback on what may not be working for them, as well as the hard truth about their prospects for a job, short term. Five to ten such meetings per week, half of them out of obligation, all of which were not billable. A soft form of philanthropy when it hurts to give either time or money.
A variable that caused me grave concern in late 2008 was how behind our business was in social networking, which was growing explosively as a way to connect with talent. In fact, this revolution was a possible category killer for executive search. With the advent of Facebook, MySpace, Plaxo, LinkedIn, Classmates.com, and industry-specific online marketplaces where people could find each other more easily, we were entering unknown territory. Was the business of recruitment becoming less relevant? Were we being demonized by the digital explosion?
During the previous recession, in 2002, with excess space, time, and staff, we effected a business transformation. We entered the career transition business, led by my colleague Bill Holland. The plan was to use this strategy to hedge our recruiting business and repurpose our unused space and people. Correspondingly, during 2008, and later, in 2009, NEXCareer became a healthy story within our portfolio. We assisted thousands of executives looking for work, which partly offset our losses from our core business. It also hammered home how challenging it was to look for work; few of our clients were successful in getting a job.
Another headache was my overzealous commitment to pro bono service: efforts through the business on behalf of feelgood, non-revenue-generating, not-for-profit organizations and associations. As the market decreased, the need for more creative ways to fundraise increased, requiring me to give more time and attention to the valuable causes and organizations on whose boards I sat, including The Power Plant, Canada’s leading contemporary art gallery; Marketing Hall of Legends of Canada, which focused on honoring executives for lifetime marketing achievement and on mentoring future legends; and the Young President Organization, a global group dedicated to creating better leaders.
Remembering the dark days of previous recessions, I was beginning to think of checking in with a coach – maybe in December – to regroup, lick my wounds, and try to refocus and come up with new ideas. Deep down I was just hoping the storm would pass. Did I even want to be in the business? I was starting to manufacture answers, such as, It’s been 20 years – should I move on? Meanwhile, less work for me as a commissioned agent meant my income would be a mere fraction of what I had earned the year before – 70 percent lower, in fact. It’s tough to keep your chin up when you face a pay cut this size and think you may lose your business, too.
The funny thing about facing imminent
death is that it really snaps everything else
into perspective.
—JAMES PATTERSON, AUTHOR
September 2008
My wife, Leslie, first witnessed it at the school drop-off in September. Fees for the school year were pre-paid seven months prior. The chatter this year was that a large number of families were opting out of the expense of private school for the coming year and were preparing to reassign their kids elsewhere. (Fast forward to September 2009: When we returned our kids to school, enrollment was down 15 percent.)
Mothers talked openly about the stress at home. Impatience, arguments, and verbal fights were on the rise, as husbands experienced unprecedented work pressures. Those who hadn’t been terminated had to do more with fewer people, or come up with solutions to problems they had not previously encountered. The market crash, the credit squeeze, and a nebulous future were creating financial and emotional pressures that few in our generation had ever experienced.
“I am trying to compartmentalize, but my work and financial stress has spilled over into the family,” a friend shared with me. “I have a debt load I can’t sustain after my salary was rolled back. I think I’m going to lose my job.”
I knew I faced some tough decisions at home. Our own budget was ridiculously bloated in light of thin times. I put the evil day off a little longer, however, by concentrating on the troubles at work.
We now were parting company with friends and colleagues and asked more from our staff. Salaries were frozen, some rolled back. Some people started to job share, or take a reduced workweek. Clients were asking us for considerations, sitting on their payables – our receivables.
