While J. Wyatt Ehrenfels vowed never to apply for a faculty position in a department of psychology, last week he disclosed to the ShadowPsychology staff his application one year ago for a tenure-track position in a department of management science. The department resides in the Business School of a reputable university in a major US city. Ehrenfels had this to say about the circumstances surrounding his application:

"I think I knew this would be more of a longshot than even the faculty anticipated. I was offered a rather unique opportunity in that I developed a wide acquaintanceship with the faculty. You see, when their secretary was hospitalized with a post-surgical infection, I was remanded there for $11 an hour by my temporary employment agency. At least four of the professors in the department were distressed to learn that someone of my education was reduced to making their coffee and answering their phones for a living. I was informed that many of them had the same PhD, a PhD in Social Psychology, and I was encouraged to apply for the Organizational Behavior & Development position. The position was being vacated by their most beloved professor, who was retiring after years of enjoying a national reputation as a management guru. And he was in demand until the day he retired, though he retained his consulting practice. As the receptionist, I fielded requests for appearances from influential government agencies and research facilities (e.g. the Brooking Institution), all of whom wanted to book an hour or two with this pretigious management analyst who clearly benefited from his proximity to Washington, D.C.

Anyway, as the department secretary it was my job to address and mail vacancy announcements to hundreds of business schools in the US and Canada. Rather than fall back on their ad in The Chronicle of Higher Education and other professional periodicals, this reputable university was intent on casting the widest net possible in order to find a successor for the irreplacable guru, whose reputation benefited the university socially and financially. This net was as fine a mesh as it was wide. A few of the professors with whom I enjoyed daily conversations around the water cooler -- they did not possess the strength to replace the 5-gallon containers -- solicited my opinions on a wide array of subjects and reported being impressed with my intelligence, ambition, maturity, value system, as well as my congeniality and sense of humor. These professors asked me to speak directly with the department head, and other faculty, to solicit their opinions on my application. This process began to feel like the formation of a Presidential exploratory committee. Would you be receptive to my application? Do I have a chance? I never put these questions to them directly but it was answers to these questions that I was asked to seek. All the faculty with whom I spoke encouraged me to make application, many of whom reporting that they did not know what the 'search would turn up.' However, one professor did qualify his encouraging statements with some rather discouraging statements as to what he personally demanded of a credible candidate, and it was quite clear that I was not in the ball park. Unfortunately, it only took one professor to raise enough of a stink about these professional standards to sink my application.

Dr. B

Dr. B was the youngest professor on staff within the OBD concentration. A transfer from Rutgers, where he fast-tracked to position of Associate Dean, Dr. B developed quite a reputation for being arrogant and demanding. I met regularly with allies in the department, who filled my head with anecdotal evidence of Dr. B's arrogance. According to reports, Dr. B indicated from his very first day that he aspired to make Business School Dean as quickly as possible. He often raised his colleague's hackles by creating ambitious extracurricular projects and commitments for the department and for generally being outspoken, often browbeating a colleague into resignation on an issue with rancorous and relentless insistence on his position. My allies insisted that he had 'used up all his credits' and that the faculty at large would not tolerate more outbursts.

What Dr. B Wants

Dr. B wanted the vacancy filled by a 'seasoned veteran' with 'established ties to publishers and external sources of funding.' He was quite congenial and temperate in expressing these desiderata with me personally, but it was also quite clear he was proud. While the management guru required years to develop his reputation, Dr. B expected the new hire to immediately fill the vaccuum created by the retirement.

Dr. B offered up that he accepted the position in management science after he was unable to procure employment in departments of psychology. This was one of those Type A professors who managed to turn out more than the required number of research publications while playing at being an administrative dynamo. Even though we were both social psychologists by training, I could not help but feel this man was operating in some other universe with some utterly alien compass. He insinuated himself in the administration of the department, grabbing a share of those responsibilities assigned to the department head who, at this stage in his career, was more interested in 18 holes than in anything else. While no one really embraced Dr. B, and while many of the faculty considered him objectionable and calculating, no one wanted to get on the bad side of the 'next department head.' Nor did anyone have the time and energy to match wits with someone who seemed to live in a dimension with greater than 24 hour days.

I had been informed by the department head that I would likely be extended an interview as a professional courtesy. While I had not published research as a graduate student, I built on the implications of my wildly successful cancer research for health care management, and I composed for my CV an outline of multiple programs of research that married my interest in personality with the traditional OBD subject of 'managerial style.' Among my programs of research was also included empirical research into the sociological norms governing the day-to-day operations of higher education. In other words, I was prepared to apply principles of organizational systems to the university itself with special attention to those norms which are counterproductive to the institution's stated educational objectives. These programs of research would have made me a credible candidate and put me squarely within the jurisdiction of OBD.

Comparing Notes

As the department secretary, I made the most of the opportunity to size up the competition. I figured someone should take an interest in these application materials. I examined the CVs and letters, none of which exhibited half my thoughtfulness and scholarly motivation. In fact, they were written in a rare dialect intelligible only to Deans. The discourse, which did not even pretend to be scholarly, nor to apologize for not being scholarly, resembled a transaction sheet itemizing an exchange of billable commodities. To be less obscure and metaphorical, what I mean by this is that the cover letters read something to the effect of 'your school has the reputation I want, and I have the credentials you want.' I read these letters and I am surprised that academics don't have agents.

Of course, I doubt any of the professors on the search committee even bothered to read many of these letters and CVs indepth. There were simply too many of them and the bulk of materials mailed by each candidate was daunting: we're talking hard disks, binders with copies of whole publications, and even unabridged copies of large manuscripts. What they lacked in brevity, they made up for in presumptuousness and naivety. I organized all this material in binders for the professors, who were supposed to request time with them. Most of the professors were forced to admit to me in the days preceding the scheduled meeting that they did not know where the binders were kept. I suspect many of them never read any of the materials and that, those who did, probably just skimmed the CVs for actuarial features signifying number of publications, presentations, affiliations, and committee assignments. If only they would have asked me to maintain a spreadsheet representing each applicant as a string of numbers. I suspect that if I had suggested it, the suggestion would have been greeted with enthusiasm.

Judgment Day

The day came. It was obvious to me that the meeting to nominate applicants for interviews was in progress. How could it not have been obvious? With faculty offices spread over two floors of the building, they chose to meet in the office adjacent to my desk. There was quite a degree of commotion in the room just before one of them remembered to close the door. I was quite uncomfortable wrestling with the question of whether I should have been the one to suggest it. While the retiring guru insisted in private conversations with me in the days leading up to the meeting that he thought it would be unethical for him to participate in the choice of his successor, and refused to do it, there he was -- smack dab in the middle of that meeting. And here I thought he requested the application binders out of idle curiosity or boredom. In retrospect, if memory serves me correctly, he spent considerably more time with them and probably studied them more closely and more diligently than any one, or for that matter any two, of his colleagues. I suspect the faculty begged him not to go forward with plans to recuse himself. In the days leading up to the meeting, he and I did speak extensively. He often called me into his office because he could never remember how to attach a file to his e-mail or generally work his PC. He thought many of my ideas bore a striking resemblance to those of his idol, Neil Bion. It seems the retiring guru and I shared a sadness over the current state of the field and over the usurpation of scholarship by the university business model.

The Decision

Hours after the meeting's end, I was summoned to the office of the professor who first suggested I throw my hat into the ring. Tearfully, he informed me I could not be granted an interview. With the conversation fresh in my memory, I recorded it in my journal:

DR. L: "You know what we were doing in here, don't you? Well guy, I was asked to bring you in here and break the news to you about what it is we decided."

J. WYATT: "Were you selected because your office is closest to my desk or because you recently had open heart surgery?"

DR. L: (Tears). "We can't give you an interview. We were surprised by the response to the announcement. We received over 80 applications and many of these people have publications this long (shows me the length of his arm)...I even had to tell a friend of mine -- a captain of industry -- that he could not be considered because -- you know guy -- it's this damn business model -- we need people to be researchers -- to publish."

J. WYATT: "My resume may be a little light, but I enclosed a detailed description of four programs of research. I would have been a research dynamo. Where I am supposed to have gotten started? Where was I supposed to publish? In graduate school? I blazed through in 3 1/2 years which is a testament to other qualities you want in a professor. I didn't spend three extra years in graduate school hoping to be the sixth author on some four-page article. Just look at the quality and integrity of my thesis and dissertation. I will not ask you to tell me what you know of my work, because I suspect you will not be able to tell me. But I enclosed reasonably brief descriptions of each. I think they were wildly successful. And the implications for management are immense. Quite frankly, and I am not saying this is uncommon, you are sacrificing potential for professional status and other pre-packaged or polished commodities. Even Dr. H (the management guru) enjoyed this opportunity."

DR. L: "I know. The rest of the faculty -- we think the world of you -- and we did not want you to think this was any reflection on you as a man. But we felt obligated to extend invitations to six candidates who are already tenured faculty and can step in and replace Dr. H. As you know, he is a brilliant man and we don't know how to replace his publications. But these applicants have a lot of publications -- I don't even know why they want to come here."

J. WYATT: "I do. It's a bargaining chip. They want a raise at their university and the only way to get one is to tell their Dean they have another opportunity. Or perhaps they want the pulpit that comes with the reputation of this school and its location. You know how many messages I take a day for Dr. H and even for Dr. N? Where else in the world could Dr. N actually become famous doing radio talk shows? Let me get this straight. You have an unemployed human being in the next room -- not to mention how many in your applicant pool who are what?...1-2-3 years out of school -- and you felt obligated to invite people who not only have jobs already, but who have lived full professional lives. Shame on you. I mean -- give a guy a break. If what you are saying about this business model is true -- and I guess that means your school gets grants based on the formula for number of faculty divided by number of publications -- then I should frame a dollar bill beneath the oil painting of your founder in the lobby."

DR. L: "Why would you do that, guy?"

J. WYATT: "Because like all commercial establishments, [name of university] should proudly and prominently display its first buck."

DR. L: "Well I don't know what to tell you. We think the world of you. You understand me? You could have published your doctoral dissertation."

J. WYATT: "Yeah, and that would have been ONE. Are you going to sit there and honestly tell me that that ONE publication -- as much as it exceeds the quality of all the works published by your collection of sell outs and tin men -- would have given you a reason to grant me an interview? Come on. I'm not stupid, and I would have wiped the floor with those other applicants. Is that what you were afraid to find out? Well, this is not constructive. Thank you for breaking the news. Sorry it had to be you. I noticed no one else wants to talk to me until they know we've had this conversation."

Adding Insult to Injury

None of the faculty even seemed to realize the inappropriateness of a request they made of me as their secretary following the rejection of my application for the position. The faculty decided to plan a surprise retirement party for the retiring guru and to solicit their alumni for donations so they could name a room after the man. I was asked to stuff and address thousands of envelopes requesting donations to this Dr. J.B.H. Fund, and I was asked to record the size of the checks in a spreadsheet for subsequent thank-you letters. A starving secretary, I watched the checks roll in, accumulating to a size greater than my yearly income, all so this retiring professor could have his own memorial auditorium. While he was the one to approach me with his discomfort at having a PhD for a secretary, he never spoke with me following the meeting that sealed my secretarial status. I hope the faculty was not too disappointed when, in an outburst in which I shared my frustration with another staff member, I inadvertently ruined the surprise. Oh well. In the days following the decision, it appears Dr. B visited us upstairs quite often, specifically Dr. H's office with a measuring tape. Dr. H complained the 'vulture was circling.' I guess Dr. B called dibbs on Dr. H's office. What could have underscored the lineage better than to move into Dr. H's office and to offer one's own office to his newly ordained clone? Well, I have an idea. With all the fuss about filling Dr. H's shoes, Dr. B could have saved a step and ushered the new professor immediately into Dr. H's office. True to form, the department waited months for a signed contract with the new professor, who haggled to raise the already exorbitant $80K salary and title. Don't get me wrong. I am not questioning that a business school professor is worth more than a psychology professor, not with the state psychology is in. They teach more personality and more small group dynamics in that department of management science than in all the psychology departments I have known put together. Hell, even Dr. B did more than his share, devoting his research efforts to studying the spiritual and ethical dimensions of management.

When the faculty did see that dollar framed under the founder, many of them were slow to understand its meaning. It remained on the wall for weeks after Dr. L explained its significance. Apparently, when transitioning from dealing with Dr. B to Secretary J. Wyatt, one simply does not grow a backbone.