Once upon a time, a long time ago, I had a job interview. It was a technical writing gig. I can’t recall the name of the company.
My throat tightened the minute I saw the sea of cubicles. I got downright jumpy when I met with the interviewers. There were two of them and me, in a small room. I suspected they were recent university graduates, and it quickly became clear they were both big fans of pre-programmed conversations.
They asked a few perfunctory questions, then started on the hypothetical quiz section. How did I feel about office politics? Could I give examples? How did I feel about the situation I encountered?
It was like I’d been sucked into The Matrix. I found myself fighting a nearly irresistible urge to bolt for the door.
“I’m not comfortable gossiping about a past job to get a new one. If I were the type, I’d give you my unvarnished opinion of the self-important jerk who took credit for someone else’s work, and exactly how that poisons a workplace. And if you’re asking me that question, I have to wonder what kind of culture you have here.”
But I didn’t say that out loud.
I gave them a sanitized version of the story, reluctantly jumping through their hoops, the desire for a cleansing hot shower growing stronger with every word.
Then things got interesting
When they finally got to the big question—why I wanted to work for the company—I did the unthinkable. I deliberately blew the interview.
“I don’t want a career. I want to do work I’m passionate about.”
I can’t remember if they asked me about writing.
I do recall two very clear realizations: first, I could never work in Cube Land again. Second, and this was striking: way too many job interviews are stellar examples of how to not get your message out.
Put the textbook down, and back away quickly
Far too often, marketing, like a bad job interview, becomes a meaningless ritual. You go through what you think are the correct motions. You sanitize your words to mimic corporate-speak, because corporations are successful, so you figure that’s the way it should be done. Formal. By the book. Non-threatening.
You tell people what you think they want to hear. You don’t dare talk about what you can’t—or won’t—deliver, because you might not get the business.
You water down who you are and what you really want to do.
You settle, too fast and too easily.
And you end up miserable.
A big opportunity and a big decision
A couple of years later, I had another interview. This one was for a vice president’s position at a small company that did cool creative work. I must have made a good impression, because shortly after the meeting they called and asked if I could come in for a few days, to see if it was a good fit before everything was finalized.
I thought hard, but not long. I didn’t want to admit it and lose out on the opportunity, but I knew even before the offer was made I’d rather be in the shop making stuff than in the office talking about it.
I turned it down.
The salary and the title were very tempting. But I knew I couldn’t give them what they wanted, or what they deserved. They couldn’t give me what I wanted, either.
I remained self-employed, for a lot less money.
On rare occasions, I still wonder if I was out of my mind.
This much I’m sure of: the source of those choices wasn’t madness. What I said was the simple truth, and both times the words just fell out of my mouth. I don’t have to fake excitement when I talk about making things, or telling stories, or pushing past stale, stiff, inflicted limitations to do your best work. Because those things matter.
Where good marketing comes from
When you talk about the work you’re truly passionate about, you don’t have to force your words or ideas. That’s the place the best marketing comes from, because it’s the place the best stories are made. It’s good because you mean it. It’s good because it’s true.
The people who love what you create hear that message, loud and clear. They’re listening for it.
When do you do your best blurting? Have you ever had a great opportunity turn out to be a big disappointment? How do you feel about turning down work when you know it’s not right for you?
Possibly related posts:

I’ve had similar things happen in the art world. Many years I had a big publishing company interested in publishing prints of my work. It may really have boosted my career. But when I saw their contract I realized they would have been in complete control of how my art work was used. Cheap coffee mugs was not the direction I wanted to go with my art. I turned them down .
Same with galleries. I’ve had offers to show in galleries whos contracts were so unprofessional I’ve turned then down.
I’m passionate about my work and put a lot of time and energy into it. I want it to have more value than a $4 coffee mug
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Stacey Cornelius Reply:
April 19th, 2010 at 10:52 am
Coffee mugs, ouch, K, that would be scary. It’s so important to be in control of your brand. Those are easy ones to turn down and run away from. Fast.
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Well…… we DO actually have our things “end up on coffee mugs”. Yes, we do. Maybe not terribly proud of it, but that’s business. In my licensing world, gone are the days of holding out for “high end” only. If you do that, you will starve. Call it unprincipled if you want, we call it putting food on the table!
No, I won’t sell all rights to a design: I do retain copyright (ALWAYS), but we can rarely hold up production of a licensee’s product unless the sample is really terrible, terrible. We have to go with the flow, so to speak.
Do I turn down work when it’s not right for me? Rarely. Somehow, we make compromises and so does the customer, and eventually come to agreeable terms…..
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Stacey Cornelius Reply:
April 19th, 2010 at 7:29 pm
I think it’s more a matter of *what* goes on the coffee mugs, not *that* something ends up there. Some images and designs just don’t work in that context. Some artists can’t go the licensing route without wrecking their brand. There’s “no one size fits all” solution. It has to be the right choice for the individual.
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OMG, Stacey! Were you lurking in bowl of granola this morning? How did you know that I needed this today!?! You’ve pinpointed exactly what has been plaguing me these many months. I’ve taken a job to relieve the stress of being self-employed. While the work is easy (mindless) and the pay is good, the place and the people are so not like me. I don’t fit in!
I know we all talk about being passionate about what we do and, if we work smart, we’ll pay the bills, but sometimes I’ve gotten so darned tired of the uncertainty and having to make all the decisions all of the time and trying to be creative AND pragmatic. I’ve been guilty of taking compromise jobs so that I can pay the bills and feel more creative. Of course it takes my time and focus away from what’s really important (my creative business).
Thank you, Stacey, for this epiphany – I can’t force myself to fit into my compromise job, nor should I try to. Now, that I’ve had this flash of revelation, what will I do next? Hmmm….?
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Stacey Cornelius Reply:
April 20th, 2010 at 6:03 pm
All I can say is don’t jump without a net! I’ve been on both sides of the fence. While it’s possible to live on a smaller income, food and shelter are those little details that are kind of important.
There’s nothing wrong with a compromise job if it keeps the electricity on, and in my humble opinion, nothing wrong with not fitting in. Sometimes just knowing that’s where you stand makes it easier while you pack your parachute.
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Yes, Stacey, you’re so right. Now, that I’ve realized that I don’t need to or want to fit in, I feel re-energized and content. This was one of those little life lessons that I needed to learn.
Thanks for creating this terrific blog. What you write has a positive impact on probably many more people and in more profound ways than you could imagine.
Sometimes I think my online presence is a waste of my time and then someone will walk up to me, may be months later, and tell me how much they enjoyed something I’d put out there. Those encounters make it all worthwhile. (sigh) Have a wonderful day, Stacey!
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Stacey Cornelius Reply:
April 21st, 2010 at 11:41 am
Thank you, Deborah, I appreciate the feedback. It does make a big difference, doesn’t it.
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Compromise, that’s my life. I have a full-time job I’m not particularly proud of but it keeps the electricity on and the cats fed.
However, I would not be able to do that job without photography. If that job were my purpose for living, I’d shrivel up and die. It’s because of the job that I’m able to exhibit as much as I do and make contacts, so it’s circular even though I think I’d be happier without it.
I have lately come to realize that I am learning valuable skills, primarily diplomacy in working with difficult people, which come in handy any time. I’m also learning how to present myself so that I have the image I want, another invaluable skill.
I’m not to the point where I could even buy a month’s worth of cat food through photo sales so I go to work, learn what I can, and use what I learn for my photography. It’s the photography that keeps me going.
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Deborah Nicholson Reply:
April 21st, 2010 at 11:22 am
Hi Sally.
Are you SallyMack.us? I’m also a photographer.
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Sally Mack Reply:
April 21st, 2010 at 11:26 am
Hi, Deborah, yup, that’s me! –Sally
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Stacey Cornelius Reply:
April 21st, 2010 at 11:43 am
Getting paid to learn things isn’t such a bad deal. Plus it keeps the cats happy. You’ll have a solid skill set when you’re ready to make the jump, too.
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Hey. I think you have it exactly right. Speak your mind. If it doesn’t get you a job, it wasn’t meant to be. I’ve always been this way.
I loved the movie Kingdom of Heaven. Two quotes stand out:
Be without fear in the face of your enemies. Speak the truth, always, even if it leads to your death. Safeguard the helpless and do no wrong.
What would I be if I didn’t try to make it better? My soul is in my keeping alone. It’s a kingdom of conscience or nothing.
Regards,
Shane
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Stacey Cornelius Reply:
April 22nd, 2010 at 5:48 pm
It’s fun when your speaking happens without your mind being aware of it. I suppose that’s conscience talking.
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Sally Mack Reply:
April 22nd, 2010 at 6:03 pm
Last time my moth spoke without my mind being engaged, , I wound up with a starving, sickly, flea-ridden seven-week-old kitten.
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