UPDATED: The Longest Line in NYC: Women for Hire Job Fair

On becoming an accidental candidate at a job fair at the height of the 2009 recession

UPDATED 2023 with additional intel. 
Originally published: 2/25/2009. Read an edited version of this post on Fastcompany

We interrupt this program for a report from the cold, hard pavement outside your window.

A jobseeking friend invited me to join her at a Women for Hire Career Fair 2009 at the Sheraton New York.

Thinking it might provide a palpable insight into the current state of the nation for my FastCompany blog, I hastily printed out my resume as required (complete with a nice glaring typo - doh!) and jumped in a cab to make it by curtain call. Might I add, my color printer suddenly chose to malfunction that day, and printed out a resume striated in red, white and blue, like a glorious 8 1/2 x 11" American flag. No matter, it's a just a formality for my friend's benefit, right?

On arriving at the entry cutoff time of 1.15pm - 45 minutes before the advertised closing time of 2pm - I saw what resembled a line longer than a queue for free immortality with front row tickets to U2 thrown in.

It started at the 7th Ave subway station and wove around two sides of a very, very long block.

The longest line in NYC, even longer than the line for Yayoi Kusama at Zwirner (bedtime reading on my art nutdom blog as art alter ego, ChelseaGallerista)

"GIT IN LINE MOMMY, WE BEEN WAITIN' 2 HOURS," yelled a woman when I politely asked "is this really the line expecting to get in by 2pm?"

"You can't line up anymore, most of these people ain't gettin' in," she snapped. Flashback to my Not Getting Into The Chanel Mobile Art Exhibition x 10000.

I fantasized for a second about boldly cutting in front of her and instantly biff! pow! aaarrrgh! starring in my own manga comic.

Hiking all the way to the back of the line I was gobsmacked by the vista: people bundled up in the sunny but freezing air, clutching resumes and portfolios all the way back into a vanishing point. The stipulation about "smart business attire, no jeans, sweats, sneakers" seemed moot.

"It's the first time they've allowed men in," said one man waving his resume in a large manila envelope. He looked at the envelope in my hand. "Now why would someone want to fold their resume?"

I asked if I could film him. He suddenly turned steely. "No you cannot. I charge $400 an hour for that." There were teeth.

"Never seen anything like this before, some people been waiting since 6am," said a policeman, blowing into his hands.

He pointed to a guy in very un-business like attire - unless you consider bundling up for a Puff Daddy concert in Antarctica business - but at least the wind wasn't biting at his core. "No-one after that guy in the blue jacket is getting in."

I looked at the long, snaking trail of pure patience following the guy in the blue jacket.

"Why are they still standing there?"

"We told 'em, they're not listenin'."

Well, they say persistence pays off: my friend had been waiting since 11.15am and got in at 1.40pm, with frozen feet that still hadn't thawed by the time she got home to Jersey City that evening. "My feet are still killing me," she said later on the phone.

After filming the line, I returned to the lobby and eavesdropped on conversations as people left the fair.

"Did anyone think that was worth it?" said a women loudly as people spilled out of the elevator.

"Not worth a two-hour wait freezin' your titties off," replied another, out of earshot of the recruiters.

"Tiny room, everyone jammed together, company reps telling us to go check out the website ... what was the point?"

How to build a better job fair

The organizers should have known that in this economy, the event would be utterly swamped and held it at the Javitz Center or restricted entry - something.

What about speed interviewing - like speed dating, allowing each of the thousands of people their 3 minutes? Do the math:

* 3000 people x 3 minutes/60 = 150 hours of interviews
* 150 hours/40 companies = 3.75 hours on average for the entire event, plus minus a couple of hours leeway.

Or, what about having employers bundle up and stroll down the line talking to prospectives, who would hold up a card with their company of choice? What about thinking laterally about this? Better that than allow people already looking for work to suffer such discomfort and indignity.

"No solicitation" was the order of the day, yet in this climate, vendors selling hot coffee and cookies down the line would have been welcome, entrepreneurial and entirely appropriate, as is the norm in third world countries. And looking at the length of this line, I could barely tell what country I was in ...

Now, we return you to your $450K job with bonuses.

What happened after my camera stopped filming ... 

The above story was reported in FastCompany. For risk of being arrested for innocent linecutting, I divulge the full adventure here...

After I finished filming the line, I asked where the restroom was. It involved cutting across the head of the line at the elevators where I made sure to gesticulate wildly, finger pointing to the restroom and loudly proclaim, "Just heading for the restroooooooom!!!"

In the restroom I asked a woman washing her hands if she'd been up to the fair. 

"Oh yeah, I was here at 6am. See that staircase? Just go up there." She motioned to a dull grey janitorial-type door. 

Up there? I mimicked that classic "What who-what-me-there?" GIF. 

"Yeah, just go up there."

I noticed a discarded pile of stapled papers next to the sink. It was the fair's "intake" form, together with a list of booth exhibitors. I grabbed one and headed for the bar to ask for a pen (Pro Tip: hotels always have branded pens to give away). 

I then headed up 6? 8? 10? flights and opened the door - to find myself at the very front of the line and the pearly gates of the exhibitor room. 

Now at this point, one would be shot filthy looks, summarily grabbed by the arm by security and shown the exit. But no - because everyone had their heads down filling out the intake form, no one saw this sudden interloper. I put my head down and made like a sheep, filling it my form. 

Understand, at this point, it was like being in a movie - literally following a script for the very first time, written by someone else, no knowing What Comes Next, but like a good actor, you gotta follow the script. The feeling was actually like being on the edge of a precipice with a bungy cord tied to the end of the long line on the street below. You just keep going 'til you feel a tug. 

The tug never came. 

So into the Expo I go. It was jam-packed with all the usual suspects: aisles of banks, insurance companies, the MTA, The Dept of Sanitation... all probably decent paying but nothing particular sexy. I scanned the exhibitor list I found in the rest room and spotted one beacon of hope: Faith Popcorn Brain Reserve. This is "futurist Faith," the original trend crystalballer who is credited with coming up with the buzzword "cocooning" and the rise of the IKEA, Home Depot and Walmart juggernauts. 

Excitedly, I suddenly switched into candidate mode, darted over and gave my stairwell speech (because you get more exercise taking the stairs vs the elevator). 

"We like creative directors," said the smartly attired HR rep. I pulled out my resume to plop on the pile, then stared at the 8.5 x 11" American flag at dismay. 

"Wait one minute, I'll be back!" I said,  and made for the door.

"You're not gonna be able to come back in," said the security guards.

Tip 1: Always carry your resume on a USB stick. (Mine is always on my keyring). 

Tip 2: Hotels in cities always have a "business center." 

I found the business center, magically refamiliarized myself with my ancient knowledge of Windows, and printed out a non-American flag copy of my resume for $2. I then raced back upstairs. I was blocked at the door. 

"Sorry, you can't come in, fair's wrapping up."

"But-but Faith Popcorn is waiting for my resume!" 

I pointed towards the booths while simultaneously slithering like Beyonce in her beaded mermaid suit through the door, betwixt the sneering guards, greased by pure determination. 

After triumphantly plopping my resume on top of the pile I bid them all adieu and left. 

Unplanned mission accomplished. 

2 days later I got a call. 

Who brings their mother to a job interview? 

The call came from Faith Popcorn's HR, inviting me in for an interview. 

My mother was visiting from Australia at the time, so to show her the un-touristed underbelly of New York I decided to take her along. How many tourists get to experience a crisp corporate lobby with free bottled water and a Noguchi table scattered with magazines featuring people with folded arms on the covers? How many interview candidates bring their mother along? 

My mother Irene meets the legendary Faith Popcorn. Who the heck brings their mother to a job interview? Obviously, I did! 

At interview I met Faith, her right hand strategist Ira, and HR head, Michelle. 

Faith is, to coin a cliche, larger than life. With her sharp shock of red-brown hair, penetrating eyes punctuated by eyebrows shaped into a permanent query and a dazzling, almost Joker-like smile (except she ain't joking) she exudes an aura of a serenely successful sage, never mind stellar businesswoman. 

She motioned to me - and then Ira - with a jeweled hand. 

"So... that job fair? Is Lynette all we got from that fair?" 

I got the impression those fairs cost a lot of money. 

We chatted about our common interests - in my case, the intersection of design, technology and the user experience. And the art of nuking food like a gourmet chef. In her case, everything that makes the world tick - or rather Click - and her adopted twin girls.

Having spent almost a decade as a Customer/Brand Evangelist (yes, you can be both) and Global Director of Community (that's how you spell "community manager") I started to realize this was a very logical next step for my own career. 

Ira and I took an instant liking to each other. I jive well with people who laugh authentically and can discuss serious matters with a wink in their eye. Matathia is persona-stellar in his own right - an ad industry veteran and co-author of several books with fellow famous trendspotter, Marian Salzman. 

Michelle hailed from Cuba and was interested in reading my travel memoir. 

Faith gave me two of her seminal works, Clicking and Dictionary of the Future, and I gave Michelle a copy of my modest-seller, The Handsomest Man in Cuba. 

They offered me a job: to take over from a staffer who was leaving to take care of his ailing mother. They salary offered was $80,000. In hindsight, it was a fair starting salary, and commensurate with starting out in a new role. Having been a creative director, and mindful of how ridiculously expensive it is to live in New York City (50-60% of people's paychecks are routinely spent on rent) I had set my salary expectations a little higher. But I accepted the job. 

So in 2009, my first year in New York City, after innocently cutting a line at a job fair I wasn't even meant to be at, I was offered a corporate job. 

Not this time, maybe next time

Friday came and my hire papers still hadn't arrived as promised. I called Ira, and he invited me in for a chat. 

The news was bittersweet. 

"I wanted to hire you the moment we started chatting," he said. 

But it turned out that the staffer needed to keep his job, so they decided to let him keep his job part time, and hire an intern to fill in. It's important to look after your people. They did the right thing. 

Or, maybe they thought, wait - what - who brings their mother to a job interview?

It then took me almost 3 years to get a similar position in my field. One thing I learned about New York: brands matter more than brawn. Despite the multi-faceted role I juggled working as a Customer Evangelist a small company, including attracting the offer of venture capital from one of my earliest customers, I would have gotten more kudos bringing coffee to the CEO of Louis Vuitton. 

But the fluke interview with Faith gave me a renewed shot of self confidence and determination to upvalue my worth. 

So. Don't give up in that long line of opportunity. Just follow your creative, curious nose, and get to the front. 

Lynette Chiang on LinkedIn
My Fast Company archive

@galfromdownunder

@chelseagallerista