Career Curveballs: When Brains Only Get You So Far

Sylvia Ann HewlettInfluencer
Founder of Center for Talent innovation & Hewlett Consulting Partners





This post is part of a series in which LinkedIn Influencers share how they turned setbacks into success. Read all their stories here.

When I joined the Barnard College faculty as assistant professor of economics, I assumed that since I was working on a college campus, and not Wall Street, it was okay to be young and fun – and dress accordingly. So I wore my hair waist-long and my closet was full of long, flowing skirts – my favorite was hand-stitched and had a colorful patchwork quilt pattern.

I failed to understand that looking as though I was on my way to Woodstock got in the way of establishing authority on the job. Given my age – I was 27 when I started this job – it was a stretch to convince anyone I was a professor and not just another student. The last thing I needed to do was to compound the challenges I faced being the youngest faculty member – and one of the few females in the economics department.

Except I did compound them – because I made the classic mistake of assuming that success was all about doing my job extraordinarily well. If I put my head down and worked as hard as I knew how, my value to the organization would be self-evident, and, of course, I would be recognized and promoted. Right? I couldn’t have been more wrong.

In addition to my not understanding the importance of dressing the part, I didn’t understand that at these beginning stages of a serious and super-competitive career, I needed a sponsor– someone with power who believed in me and was prepared to propel and protect me as I set about climbing the ladder. Don’t get me wrong: I did acquire a ton of supporters and developed mentors among several close female colleagues. But they had little clout where it counted: when I came up for tenure.

In the months leading up to the decision, I was increasingly confident. My teacher ratings were off the charts and I felt newly emboldened on the research front. My recent book had garnered great reviews and the attention of policy makers as well as scholars. As I helped my chairman assemble my dossier, I thought that it looked pretty impressive.

Imagine my shock when, three months later, I was denied tenure. My department supported me unanimously. The damage was done by the university-wide committee (the Appointments, Promotion and Tenure committee of Columbia University), which shot me down in a three-to-two vote. It turned out I had no advocates at this critical, final level. No one even knew me – or if they did, it was because I stood out from other tenure-seeking assistant professors because of my unconventional wardrobe.

Tenure decisions are “up” or “out” – you’re either promoted to associate professor (and given lifetime job security) or you’re fired. The decision came down in April; by mid-May, I was packing up my office. The combination of my unprofessional appearance and lack of sponsors was a one-two punch that knocked me right out of a career.

I regrouped. I now understood that climbing the ladder in any competitive field required heavy-duty support from a senior person with heft and influence. Luckily, I knew one – and that person helped set me on the road to a new career, at a non-profit economic policy think-tank. That eventually led to my founding the Center for Talent Innovation, a task force and research center dedicated to propelling women – and other previously excluded groups – into leadership.

As my career evolved, so did my understanding of executive presence (EP), that elusive amalgam of qualities that telegraph you’re in charge – or deserve to be. As I explain in my new book, Executive Presence: The Missing Link Between Merit and Success, EP rests on three pillars: gravitas (showing that you’re the real deal); communication (being able to convey your message); and appearance (the filter through which your communication skills and gravitas become more apparent).

In my case, gravitas wasn’t an issue. A Ph.D. in economics and 10 years in academe meant I was able to convey intellectual horsepower. I’d also cracked the code on communication by watching endless reruns of a particularly boring interview I’d done with Charlie Rose, forcing myself to analyze just why I was so yawn-inducing. This painful exercise taught me how to be smart, pithy, and charming in 30-second and three-minute sound bites.

Appearance, however, was the curveball that skewed the trajectory of my first career. But I learned what to do, and when I got a second chance, I knocked the ball out of the park. I still have long hair – but now it’s groomed. My professional wardrobe centers on slim-cut dresses with a tailored jacket. Rather than flaunting ethnic patterns, I splash out on fabulous shoes.

So whether you’re entering the job market for the first time, coming back in after taking time away, or looking to give your career a boost, don’t just count on your abilities to help you move ahead. Focus on the real factors will advance your career: find a senior person with heft and influence and prove that your executive presence makes you the right person for them to sponsor.

Photo: Ondine C / shutterstock

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