Impressive, But –
Two candidates. Two gaps. One very different outcome.
“Jo! Buddy! Come in, come in,” Reid called out across the office, waving him over.
The two men clap hands in the traditional ‘professional sports player meets manager’ sort of way. It starts as a handshake, morphs to a sort of high-five and ends with a back-slap for good friendly measure.
“Come, come, take a seat,” Reid signals to Jo to sit in one of the Italian leather armchairs facing his desk. Jo sits, and Reid sits back in his reclining desk chair, resisting the urge to put his feet up on the table in front of him.
The office is what you’d expect from a successful Football Manager. The city skyline shines through the window, as the sun hits various trophies and the like, staged tastefully across the wall, with a couple of signed pictures of Reid standing with great players of a time now past.
Jo sits back comfortably, too. Impeccably dressed in the appropriate lifestyle wear, the 6-foot-3 athlete props his arms up on the chair, where the sun lighting up the office makes sure to take notice of his watch as well.
Niceties are exchanged with the obligatory family questions and the ‘did you catch the game?’ small talk before Reid, a titan in his field, asks the hard-hitting question.
“So, Jo – retirement, buddy. How are you feeling about it? Not many games to go now.”
Jo shifts in his seat, leaning forward to respond.
“Feeling good, feeling good. You know, it really sucks to finish up like this, but I gave it a good shot.”
Reid has a chuckle, “That you did! Gotta leave some records for the next generation!”
A few more exchanges pass before Jo bucks up the courage to mention, “You know, I’ve actually been thinking a lot about what comes next – was hoping I could pick your brain a bit on it.”
“Come now,” Reid responds, “You have nothing to worry about.”
He continues, “With your track record, you can have any job you want. Commentating, coaching, reporting – heck, do you want to manage?”
Jo responds, “And I appreciate those pathways, I do. But I’m thinking about maybe going a little mainstream for a while.”
“Mainstream? What do you mean? Are you worried about money? Surely you’re all sorted there based on your last two contracts,” Reid responds, with slight concern building in his voice. He’s well aware of the slippery slope some players face on their way down from the top. He thought Jo was different, though – a real family man even, given his ripe age of 30-something.
“Well, yeah, I’m okay in that department. But you know, outside of Football, I’ve never really had to work before, and I want to make sure I have something solid to do for the next part of my life,” he says.
“You know I went to college and got recruited, and now here I am.”
Reid pauses. “Right, right. What was it you studied at college again?”
“Business,” Jo responds.
“Well, that won’t be a problem,” Reid answers. “Just name a company, and I’ll figure out who to talk to to get you a good position.”
“It might be a bit weird, though,” he warns, “I mean, you might want to take some time off after the last game and let the dust settle a bit. People are going to just see the word “PRO ATHLETE” written on your forehead for a while.”
“Yeah, I get that,” Jo says, “But I just want people to know that I’m more than that. I just want to be a regular, everyday person.”
“Okay, well,” Reid answers, “Once you’re ready – make sure you do up a CV. There’s all the AI now that’ll help you do it. But if you get stuck, I can ask Donna to help you out, okay?”
“And make sure you put down all the skills you’ve learnt over the past 10 years.”
“Yeah, about that,” Jo answers, “Do you have any advice on how to make it all, I don’t know, a bit less Football and a bit more office?”
“I keep thinking about what I’ve done, you know, that’s like relevant for an office.”
Reid scoffs, “You’ve done lots of stuff. Think about the diligence you’ve shown with training and schedules, and the mentoring younger players. There’s all the PR training you’ve done. And I mean strategy – come on. So much strategy in those plays. And what’s that word they use – yes, adaptability. Think of all the adapting you have to do.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” Jo responds.
“They’re great examples.”
Reid looks at his watch to signal that the meeting is wrapping up.
“Look, Jo, man, you can do whatever you want to do. Don’t worry about work experience. You’ve got a solid reputation. When you’re ready, make a CV. We’ll make the right doors open. You’re a professional athlete! Come on, the world’s your oyster.”
Meanwhile, 12 floors down, another type of meeting is about to begin.
Jessica walks up to the reception and smiles – friendly enough to know that all impressions count, but not too big to make her look unserious.
The receptionist looks up and says, “Good morning, how can I help you?”
“Hi, my name is Jessica Mars. I’m here for an interview with Bob Francis.”
The receptionist types at her keyboard and says neatly, “Great, please take a seat. He’ll be with you shortly.”
10 or so minutes later, Jessica is shown into a small boardroom where a man introduces himself as Bob.
“Great to meet you, Jessica. Please, please take a seat.”
“Likewise, Bob,” Jessica responds, “I’m grateful to come this far in the interview process because I really admire this company.”
Jessica places a leather-bound notepad in front of herself and takes out a printed CV to pass over to Bob. She’s not entirely sure if this is necessary – in fact, she debated it with herself for a good 20 minutes last night in the rehearsal she squeezed in after her eldest went to bed – but she figured it wouldn’t hurt to show her diligence, right?
“Ah, thanks,” Bob responds, and places it down in front of him, appearing to glance over it again before speaking.
“You’ve been through a few rounds of interviews now, so let me cut to the chase. Your CV is impressive. Both your studies and your work experience make you considerably well-suited for the position. You’ve also impressed everyone else who has spoken with you in the company.”
He pauses – she takes this as an opportunity to speak, “Thank you, Bob, I –”
Before she can finish, he says, “Our main concern is the gap of time since your last position. Five years is a long time to be out of the workforce. And this is a relatively senior role in that you’ll be managing a team and reporting to Directors.”
Not wanting to miss too many beats, Jessica takes a deep breath and responds, just as she rehearsed – “Bob, I really appreciate your concern, and I understand where you’re coming from. Before I took the last five years to prioritise motherhood, I spent over a decade in various elements of Business Operations.”
She continues, “Now I appreciate that five years out of the workforce appear substantial, but in this time, not only have I honed a suite of skills relevant to this role, but I have also completed certifications from Yale and Harvard to ensure that I am up to date with AI trends and the evolution of Agile methods.”
She takes a quick but subtle breath to not lose her momentum.
“I’ve also included letters of recommendation from past employers, along with relevant members of community groups I have volunteered with over the past five years, which demonstrate how I’ve applied my business knowledge in this time.”
Bob sits back slightly in his chair with a half-grin on his face.
“That’s all very impressive – but I’m curious, you say you’ve honed skills relevant to this role – I’m not sure I follow how?”
“Well, being a primary carer requires a lot of operational skills. There’s logistics, negotiating, planning, researching and a lot of internal comms,” she says with a smile to try and lighten the situation.
“I had two children in three years. There is a lot that is involved in that, not just in personal growth but in skills that are relevant to my professional capacity.”
“I know, with strong confidence, that they’re going to support me in helping this company to reach its goals,” she finishes.
Bob leans forward and says, “Look, Jessica, I really appreciate that. And I’m sure it’s true. But the thing is, no one can vouch for your professional experience in the past five years. Who should we call?” he jokes, “Your kids?”
She had prepared herself for this. She’d asked her husband to be blunt and cruel in their interview rehearsals, and still, she found herself mentally working in overdrive to keep the flustering at bay.
“Well,” she laughs in a way to match his tone while reminding herself not to get defensive, “Goodness, I’m pretty sure they’d put in a good word for me. And I can assure you that no one I manage will be put in time-out.”
He laughs at that and looks down to flick through the pages she’s given him.
“Listen,” he starts, “You seem like a fantastic fit. We have a couple of other candidates in the running, and so we’ll be in touch with you with our decision – I imagine within the week.”
He stands up, “Thank you for coming in, Jessica – it really was lovely to meet you.”
A year later, on an early, crisp and hopeful Spring morning, Jo walks into the lobby of a building, ready for his first day.
His job title will read, Business Operations Manager, and he will manage a small team of consultants and analysts, all trying to hide their excitement at having a former Professional Athlete in their work sphere.
One team member had expressed some concern about her incoming manager. She knew it was a risk, but taking the “don’t take your boss a problem” mindset, she asked the more senior manager what she could do to “support” the incoming team member, given the “gaps” in his experience.
“I really want to step up to ensure the transition is smooth for the team,” she said. “Are there any areas you want me to focus on?”
To which she got a response, “Let’s just see how it goes!”
On the same Spring morning, Jessica arrives back home after school drop-off.
She sits at her desk, opens her emails and calendar, and gets ready for her first meeting of the day. It’s a final round interview for a job she’d applied for. It’s the tenth final round interview she’s logged into over the past year.
She keeps getting to the final round. She keeps being told how impressive her experience is, how glowing her recommendations are – how much everyone in the team she speaks to in the lead up to the final interview all think she’d make a great fit.
They just don’t know what to do about that gap on her resume… You know, the one where she raised her children and performed the all-encompassing, horizon-expanding, growth-multiplying work of mothering.
Maybe this time will be different, she pumps herself up. Maybe this time they’ll see it as work. She just needs a door to open – once she’s in, she knows exactly how to play the game.
———
While these specific stories are fictional, the events that inspired them are not. I have observed these storylines, and many variations of them, play out, time and time again.
On the one hand, we have a culture willing to overlook a lack of practical work and office experience because we idolise entertainment and the physical capacity of athletes, especially that of men.
On the other hand, we have a culture unwilling to understand the extent to which mothering is work, and the vast ways it allows us to deepen our professional skills and capabilities. We have a culture that minimises the physical capacity it requires, and the lack of systemic support in which the work is completed.
Mothering is work.
A paid-work gap on a resume is not a liability, but an opportunity to explore all the value gained in that time.
Sometimes, mothers just need someone to open the door.
With care,
Kiya
Ps. Last week, I collaborated with the wonderful Violet Carol to write a piece titled, “I Lost My Brain When I Gave Birth.” It is truly one of my favourite things to have written on here – and having Marina Mofford’s photography in it was the cherry on top. You can read it here.
Thank you for reading 🤍
If we haven’t met: I’m Kiya – mother, writer, researcher and thinker of how we build better systems to support mothers. After leaving the tech/VC industry on maternity leave, I now spend my time writing on motherhood and work, completing a PhD, and doing my favourite work – mothering a toddler.
If you find value in my articles, please consider sharing it to others, upgrading your subscription or buying me a coffee to fuel the work – it’s appreciated more than you can imagine.
From The Archives:
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The contrast here almost feels absurd, how one life stage is seen as credible, while the other is treated like a liability to explain away.
I’ve felt this within myself since becoming a mum. It can feel so easy to disregard the work of mothering, making it feel “less than” the professional life I had previously, even though it has been the most challenging and profound work of my life. I think of the invisible work of decision-making, the emotional regulation, and the constant adaptation. Motherhood changes you at a level that doesn’t fit neatly onto a CV, but is no less real for it. Thanks for showing us that.
I’m going to be thinking about your final line. Sometimes mothers don’t need more proof. They need a door to open. I’ll be meditating on this: How do we open this door for mothers…
Ugh, so real it’s painful! So so accurate. The Jessicas deserve to run the world and it takes so much for a Jessica to just be given the opportunity after having to advocate for herself like her livelihood depends on it, because it does. 🫠 brilliant work, my friend 👏👏👏