News-Letter

Introducing a new product into an already saturated market is both difficult and daunting.

When the product is yourself -- a newly-graduated fledgling applying for a choice job among a plethora of peers -- the task seems downright impossible.

As I, myself, will be job-hunting in less than a year's time, I've been recently fixated on determining how best to ensure I "get what I want" career-wise, post-college.

And while coming from a top university, such as Hopkins, provides nice backing to one's resume, solely resting on this laurel should do little more than secure a menial position at McDonalds serving grease to the obese.

You see, to my latest way of thinking, academic prowess, while it is a wonderful life skill, is far less important to professional achievement than self-promotion, network building, and overall personal appeal. The purpose of existing as a social animal is to interact with our fellow species, constructing bridges that not only contribute to our own self efficacy, but also ultimately serve our greater endeavors and goals.

And while professors may respect pedantic banter and literary allusions, those outside academia will see a highfalutin nerd to whom they cannot relate.

While I'm not deemphasizing the importance of "having a good head on one's shoulders," I do provide my humble admonition to the stereotypical Hopkins students who spends his and her days, nights, weeks and months holed-up in the library, advancing academic capital, but hazardously neglecting the social component so crucial to overall success in the world.

In essence, no real people -- the movers and shakers who run Fortune 500s, for instance -- want to talk to someone who hasn't seen the light of day or had a social interaction in four years.

If this sounds like you, fret not; upgrades are always possible.

To remedy the predicament, I've naturally looked to the fashion and consumer industries, realizing that the human, the job applicant -- you and me -- is no different than this season's Balenciaga platform shoe: an inanimate, marketable product. And while we may not first appear as a wardrobe staple to our "buyer," some careful promotion and contrived aesthetic appeal can make even the most unfortunate among us coveted commodities.

I therefore present a most un-Hopkins self-marketing campaign that emphasizes superficiality over depth, looks and personality over mental capital, and begs the question: can we obtain our preferred job simply through personality, style, and looking good?

If so, we must first and foremost appeal to our employer's personality. Even the most intelligent, best-dressed, and aesthetically gifted individual strikes out if devoid of good character. Whether a connection is made through wit and jovial repartee, exuberance, or humor, from what I've experienced and observed, personal appeal is essential. After all, are not friendships, intimate relationships, and marriages predicated upon personality?

After delighting our employer with charisma, adhering to the psychological component of our campaign, the visual appeal comes into play. This is when dress, grooming and overall presentation must be at its peak. Call it shallow, but in addition to amicability, people possess the innate inclination to favor that which also offers aesthetic pleasure. Recall the "Halo effect" discussed in any Psych 101 course.

In fact, a study conducted by sociologist Barry Harper for Oxford University found that, among a cohort of 11,407 individuals, "physical appearance had a substantial effect on earnings and employment patterns for both men and women."

However, a similar study by the Journal of Applied Social Psychology determined that, while physicality influences professional attainment, a person need not be naturally attractive to achieve prime job opportunities. Moreover, it seems that makeup, proper grooming, posture, dress, and overall comportment coaxed employers into seeing a more attractive person than the applicant truly may have been.

Therefore, anyone has the ability to sport a halo of physical appeal just by putting some effort into his or her appearance. And in the realm of tedious tasks, I'd say a day in the library ranks higher than probing oneself in the mirror for an extra 10 minutes.

So as some of us complete our last one or two years at Hopkins and others have the whole gamut to go, it may pay to remember the importance of a well-rounded person, both for future professional attainment and general happiness.

Perhaps it's even sensible to step back and think of a simply style analogy: "in a line-up of equally-warm jackets, would I purchase the best looking or the worst?"

I think you know the answer.

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