I told a candidate I'd call. Six months later, I did.
Author: Keisha Coetzee-Roswell, Talent Lead at Postworks
One of the least glamorous parts of my job as Talent Lead is telling someone they didn't get the job.
Nobody grows up dreaming about making rejection calls (for lack of a better word).
But...
Sometimes, a really special thing happens where that call isn't the end.
I spend a lot of time thinking about recruitment. Some would say an unhealthy amount of time thinking about recruitment. Not just whether someone is right for the role, but whether we're giving people an experience they'll actually remember for the right reasons.
Because interviews work both ways.
Yes, we're deciding whether someone could be brilliant here.
But they're also deciding whether we're the sort of people they'd actually want to spend the majority of their week with.
Earlier this year, we were hiring for a brand new role in Edinburgh, a relatively niche role.
The shortlist was ridiculously strong. Genuinely one of those recruitment processes where it's hard because they're all great.
We hired an excellent candidate.
But this story isn't about them.
It's about someone who didn't get the job.
She interviewed brilliantly.
She had the right attitude, loads of potential and felt like someone who would genuinely thrive at Postworks. But we selected another candidate who was just as brilliant, but with slightly more closely aligned experience.
When I called to give her the news, I said something I don't say unless I mean it.
"I think this team will grow. If it does, would you be happy for me to keep your details and give you a call?"
She said yes.
Now... if someone told me that while rejecting me for a job, I'd probably smile politely, say, "Of course!" and immediately assume they were just being nice.
Apparently, I wasn't far off and that is exactly what they thought would happen.
Six months later, the team grew and I picked up the phone to make that call.
Fast-forward a couple of weeks, a meeting with our Ops Director and a rapid onboarding later, she'd joined Postworks, I asked whether I could share a little of this particular experience.
The first question was simple.
What made you apply in the first place?
"The role really stood out from the other job posts I was trawling through. It asked different questions and seemed like a role that would really suit my introverted little heart and fit neatly alongside my other job."
Safe to say, "introverted little heart" is now my favourite pieces of interview feedback ever.
Then I asked how she'd felt when she found out she hadn't got the job.
"I was a bit disappointed actually! I really enjoyed the interview process and Postworks seemed like a really nice place to work. I felt very comfortable talking to you guys, which I find quite rare in interview situations."
That one meant a lot.
Nobody enjoys disappointing people, and rejection calls don't feature on my list of career highlights. But I've always believed people can be disappointed by the outcome without being disappointed by the experience.
Then came the question I was actually wondering about deep down...
Did you actually believe me when I said I'd call if another opportunity came up?
"I was disappointed, so I put it at the back of my mind almost immediately, to be honest. Of course I was hoping you meant it, but I was also thinking it could just be something you said to be nice."
Honestly?
Fair enough.
So when I asked what went through her mind when I called six months later, her answer really made me smile.
"I was really relieved! And positively surprised that you actually meant what you had said. I really wanted the job just as much the second time around as I did the first."
Recruitment isn't about avoiding difficult conversations. Sometimes the answer is no, but it doesn't have to feel dismissive or rushed. Realistically, not everyone I meet will join Postworks, and that's okay. But everyone should leave feeling respected, treated fairly and maybe even being a bit of a fan.
Our mission is to be a pleasure to do business with.
That extends to everyone who interacts with Postworks. And it starts long before someone's first day.