Ask The Headhunter: Learning To Move On

I'll warn you right now. This is not a "how to" article, but a story about how getting stuck in the past almost ruined my career as a headhunter. Hopefully, you'll find in this story the courage to keep you from letting your ego ruin your next job.

Taking the job on faith.
When I first got into the search business, I joined a small firm that "hunted" engineers. I was green as they come: right out of grad school with zero knowledge about business, much less about engineering and the electronics industry. The firm I joined taught me a lot; enough to help me establish a good reputation as a good headhunter after a couple of years of hard work.

Quite naturally, as a naive new grad I had joined the firm on faith rather than after carefully assessing the business. I watched with puzzlement as one good person after another left, usually on harsh terms with the owner. My problem was that I was so busy absorbing basic business knowledge that I mistook the owner's erratic personality for enthusiasm and business savvy.

When Harry Hamlin, my immediate boss (the guy who actually hired me), eventually left to start his own business, it dawned on me that something was very wrong. Shortly, all the desks in the office were left empty, except for mine. As the last employee, I felt the full brunt of the owner's fear and insecurity, and her wrath came down on me daily. After a particularly nasty public dressing-down, I decided to leave and join my ex-boss.

Trusting the wrong person.
I quit and presented a written request for thousands of dollars of commissions that were owed me. I was stunned when the owner refused to pay me anything. In my naïveté, I believed that what was right was right, and I trusted the owner to do what was right. Maybe this was the point where I started to grow up.

Two weeks later I joined Harry in his business, and I started litigation to collect my commissions. My lawyer warned that although I had a solid case, it would take a long time to collect. My new partner, meanwhile, sat back and listened to me as I ranted about how I was going to nail our old boss to the wall and collect what was rightly mine. Most of my days were spent on the phone with my attorney.

After a week, Harry sat me down, closed the door, and explained life to me.

Facing reality.
"Nick, you're not the guy I wanted to partner with. That was another smart, young guy who had shining prospects, a great attitude, and a love for headhunting. I asked you to come into business with me because you were an optimist who could find the value in almost any situation. But now, while your body is here in this office, your mind is in the past. To make our new business successful, we both have to be 100 percent engaged in the here and now. You're not."

His words stung. I protested that we both knew what a " head case" our old boss was, and that if I didn't fight her I'd lose my self-respect.

"If you fight her, your ego will win, but it will cost you a ton of business. Let this go right now, clear your head and your heart of all the agony she's caused you, and within three months you will earn more through good headhunting than you'll ever collect from her."

Learning to move on.
It was the first time anyone explained to me that attitude and earnings go hand in hand, and that there's a difference between good money and bad money.

I wrestled with my ego that night. I wrestled with my idea of what was right. After twisting it every which way in my mind, I let it all go. Being right made me feel powerful, but it didn't mean I was being smart. I was much more energized by the prospect of starting fresh and building a new business. I also enjoyed the thought of my old boss's reaction when she'd learn I was quickly developing new clients and placing engineers left and right — not for her firm, but for my own.

My partner snatched me from the jaws of ego and anger, and helped pull me out of the demoralizing past that he'd escaped from, too. I looked around and Silicon Valley had this glow about it, and it was mine for the taking. (Hey, this was 1981.) No more talks with the lawyer. No more organizing my case. No more anger. No more distraction.

Enjoying good money.
I soon closed my first deal and formed a new client relationship that was worth far more than my old boss owed me. I was elated. I had proved I could do it. My partner was aglow, but once again he sat me down.

"Do you understand that you never would have closed this deal if you had remained distracted by our old boss? Do you realize how ahead of the game you are today?"

When my attorney called to say my old boss had offered a settlement — about a third of what I was owed — I was ready with my reply: "Just ignore it. I'm not interested in bad money."

Harry Hamlin's good advice has paid off for me again and again over the years. Today, while trying to right a wrong someone did me, I was reminded of his words and I let the matter drop. With a grin on my face, I'm going to go close another deal instead. Thanks, Harry.

Making good choices.
With a new year upon us, I think it's important to remember that it isn't just our credentials or our management and technical abilities that determine the quality of our lives at work. It's what we've learned from our mentors about how to make good choices. And the most important choices we make are the ones that allow us to move on to what's new.

I wish you and yours something good and new in the new year.

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