Tales of a Headhunter part 5: Lies, damn lies, and...more lies

   

   

William Blake, one of the greatest poets in English literary history, once wrote: "a truth that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent" ...but then he never worked in recruitment. Let's give Blake some credit, though. Every lie begins with a truth told with bad intent, which almost always starts with the words: "Yes, I am interested in the job - please put me forward".

Everybody lies at some point - candidates, clients, recruiters, everybody. They lie for the same reason anybody lies: to control the conversation and keep their options open. Some enjoy it, some don't care, some do it out of fear, and most do it reluctantly for the 'greater good', i.e. money. Below are a selection of the most memorable lies I have ever heard during my short career in recruitment and the stories behind them.


"Sorry I lied about my mother being rushed to hospital"

Why? People Why? Why would you sink to the depths of lying about something so serious that you would surely never forgive yourself if it actually ever happened? Yet, this is perhaps the most common lie invented by candidates to buy themselves more time when under pressure to commit to an interview or a job offer.

If you have ever wandered how recruitment consultants can be so cynical and cold-hearted as to question the veracity of such an excuse (sorry, I mean personal emergency), it is because of stories like this: a former colleague of mine was quietly confident he was about to fill a difficult role with a candidate I had found for him, when he received a phone call about 45 minutes before the final interview was due to begin. The candidate sounded quite flustered and informed him that his mother had been rushed to hospital at 5 am with chest pains and it was touch or go - the interview would have to be postponed.

We took him at his word and informed the client only to receive another phone call from him the next day: he had taken a job somewhere else. Indeed, he admitted fabricating the entire story so he could interview for that position instead while keeping our client on the back-burner in case he didn't get it. I had to give him credit for coming clean, but in so doing I officially lost all faith in the human race - just another day in the life of a recruitment consultant.

CAUTION: If you are going to feign such a serious incident, be sure not to 'kill off' the same relative more than once otherwise you'll get the same response one absent-minded staff member received when attributing their absence from work to the death of their mother: "What, again?"

Would you do this if you had just been mugged? 

Picture this: you've just left the house to go to an interview when BAM, right on your doorstep, a mugger assaults you and takes everything - your keys , your phone, your wallet. Everything you have on you. What is the first thing you do?

a) go to the local police station and report the crime

b) take solace in the home of a friend or neighbour to recover from your ordeal 

or....

c) break into your own home and email your recruitment consultant

This is what another former colleague of mine was led to believe when his candidate emailed him just minutes after supposedly being mugged to say he would not be able to attend his interview which was due to take place the following hour. Interestingly, he never responded to any of the reply emails offering messages of support and a revised date for his interview.

"I can't make it into work today - I've been kidnapped"

The jury's still out on this one - quite possibly literally - so I leave it to you to decide if this is a tragic case of an unfortunate employee being hard done by or the stupidest lie ever told. Here's what happened.

This story, as you can probably tell, is not about a candidate, but a fellow recruiter - well, ex-recruiter now - who we'll call Stanley to protect his (or her) identity. Stanley already had something of a reputation for taking days off without telling anyone before the fateful day of his abduction, while his performance at work had recently come under scrutiny from his manager who was less than impressed.

Nevertheless, nothing had prepared his team for receiving a phone call on a cold Monday morning from a diverted number, informing them that Stanley would not be available for work because he had been kidnapped. Least of all did they expect the person placing the call to be none other than Stanley himself. They immediately followed up this harrowing news by contacting his mother, who corroborated the story, explaining that he had indeed been 'taken' from his very own doorstep by his assailant to an undisclosed location. Miraculously, it transpired, Stanley had somehow escaped and evidently found a way to call both his mother and his manager to let them know what had happened.

The manager, still inclined to give Stanley the benefit of the doubt, tried on several occasions to call him back on his mobile to check if he was OK and ask when he would be able to return to work. Each time, the call went unanswered, only to be shortly returned via the same diverted number, by Stanley, who explained that he had gone to the police station to report the incident and submit a statement.

The plot thickened when one of his colleagues revealed that Stanley had recently been complaining that he could not attend a business meeting in Germany (he ran his own thing on the side) that very Monday because he had already used up all of his holidays. The colleague continued that not long before that, Stanley had told him about a friend of his who had managed to score a free day off work by pretending he had been kidnapped. The story was so serious that no-one dared question it, thereby making it the perfect excuse - take that, William Blake! I imagine, though, that if Stanley had consulted his friend before trying out this tactic himself, he most likely would have advised him not to brag about it at work to the very same people he planned to use it on less than a week later.

But then, who am I to judge?

Hugs :)

Tales of a Headhunter part 4: What type of salesperson are you?

Everyone knows only desperate attention seekers resort to turning a blog post into a quiz in the vain hope that more people will read and comment on it.

So, here's mine!

What type of salesperson are you? This is a question I regularly obsessed over when I was a headhunter, mainly because I was still finding my feet and there were so many different archetypes to choose from in my office alone, each of whom enjoyed varying rates of success. I knew I couldn't be all things to all people and that I couldn't please everyone every time, so I shopped around for the style that suited my personality best and stuck with it. Sort of.

In truth, I did try to be all things to all people and I did try to please everyone every time - at first. I then realised I was never going to succeed as long as I kept pretending to be someone I wasn't. I have since boiled down my list of archetypal salespeople to just five. Take a look below and see what type of salesperson you REALLY are.

By the way, I take no responsibility for however unflattering you may find your results....


Type 1: Phone Monkey

Monkey see, Monkey do. You see all the most successful people on the sales floor spending three or four hours a day on the phone, so you do the same. Bizarrely, this is actually incredibly effective. It's no different from walking the length of the King's Road and asking every man or woman you see to sleep with you. You'll get a few horrified looks, some harsh words, and maybe even a black eye, but you'll never go home alone.

There is a magic ingredient though, which all who aspire to 'Phone Monkeydom' must possess before they can ascend to the heady heights of success. Complete and total shamelessness - and absolutely no regard for how others see you.

Have you got what it takes, Cheetah?


Type 2: Cheeky Chappy

The Cheeky Chappy is actually a far more sophisticated animal than the name suggests. I used to idolise the people in my firm who successfully mastered this approach because they made their success look effortless, when in fact a lot of thought and strategy went into every sales call. Unlike the phone monkey, the Cheeky Chappy carefully selects their prey and their conversations are friendly and personal. These guys don't win clients, they make friends.

How do you spot a Cheeky Chappy? Well, you know that person you can never get mad at no matter how many times they cheat on you with your best friend - that's the one. Therein also lies the problem. They are chronically unreliable and susceptible to being rolled over by a client, partner, or even employee, because they've been mixing business with friendship for so long.

If this is you, then you have a bright future ahead, but keep your feet on the ground and remember: flowers say 'I love you' and chocolates say 'I'm sorry'. You'll be needing them.


Type 3: La Femme Fatale

This can apply just as readily to men as to women. They make everyone they speak to fall in love with them - or at least lust after them. How is this not just a variation of the 'Cheeky Chappy' you ask? Simple, Femmes Fatales are ruthless! They know exactly what they are doing and are under no illusions about where the line between business and pleasure must be drawn. They are professionals of the highest order and watching them work at once fills me with awe and terror. They are Psirens to my Odysseus. Allow them to take you in just once and you will never get out alive.

The good news is, you can spot them a mile away and you know you are speaking to one, the moment you meet them. The sultry voice, the expensive clothes, the Italian shoes, the absence of even a single split end, and the scent of luxury perfume or aftershave.

You don't need me to tell you if this is your type because you've known it since the day you were born.


Type 4: The Bulldog (aka Hominis Horriblis)

I was tempted to label this type the son of a b*tch because they normally are for the most part. The bulldog is the evil twin of the 'Phone Monkey'. They don't know what people think of them and they don't care. Whereas the 'Phone Monkey' simply lacks self-awareness, what these guys are missing is a soul, but they get the job done - mainly by making their clients fear that they will wake up with a horse's head in their bed if they don't buy whatever it is they are selling - NOW!

The clever consultancies learn to make the best of these people though. They send the bulldogs in to open all the doors (or just kick them down) and in behind follows the Cheeky Chappy to make clear that all those death threats were just a simple misunderstanding and will never happen again - cue chocolates.

If this is you - take what you want, just please don't hurt me.


Type 5: The Doctor

"Tell me where it hurts and I will make the pain go away". Ladies and gentlemen, you've just been consulted by 'The Doctor'. Sympathetic, scientific, and softly spoken, he or she doesn't want to sell to you, they just want to help - in return for a small fee. 'The Doctor' is an all-round nice person, someone you can talk to, and someone you can trust. They ask what they can do for you today and sit patiently for however long it takes for you to open up and tell them what the problem is. They then explain in meticulous detail how they plan to solve this problem and that they are here for you should you wish to avail yourself of their services.

The problem with doctors is that they rely on existing relationships or recommendations from satisfied customers. They don't do well on a cold call, which is no surprise. If an actual doctor appeared on your doorstep uninvited and asked to give you a physical, would you let them in?

By the way, if you are an a***hole pretending to be a 'Doctor', bad news: you are a 'Femme Fatale'.

Until next time.

Hugs :)







  

Tales of a Headhunter part 3: The Cold Call

So far, we've gone round the world in 80 stereotypes, and exposed the pranksters and prats who hold our careers in their hands. Whatever could be left?

The Cold Call!

Most of you reading this will have been on the receiving end of a cold call at some point in your life (and several of you will have made them yourselves), but how many of you know the lengths a headhunter will go to in order to reach you?  Naturally, your author being the dignified and honest professional that he is had to shop around for a few stories this time, but first a few tips on how to avoid embarrassing yourself when making a cold call.


1) Don't say it's personal

Boys and girls, I regret to confirm that the personal assistants (PA) of this world have now cottoned on to this once unbeatable strategy - saying it's a personal call. They do not believe you any more than those rich relatives you only speak to once a year when you're short on cash do when you tell them you're 'just calling to say hello'. Only the most clueless of receptionists, gate-keepers, guardians of the Underworld (whatever we're calling them these days) would accept that you know your target personally, especially since you're having to go through a random switchboard to get hold of them. You might as well say you're calling to inform them they've won the Nigerian lottery.

2) Don't say you're returning their call

The last time I overheard someone try this, it led to a bizarre back and forth with the PA they were trying to get past which succeeded only in making them look like they were following up on an imaginary conversation that never happened with someone they didn't know. It went something like this:

Headhunter: Can I speak to Mr X please?
PA: Who's calling please?

Headhunter: My name is XXX and I am returning his call
PA: Where are you calling from?

Headhunter: I just got a message to call him back and this is the only number that was given.
PA: What is the call regarding please?
Headhunter: How should I know? He's the one who called me.

3) Don't pretend to be fluent in a language you don't speak

You'd think this one would be a no-brainer. Alas, fellow headhunters, there was a time when even your distinguished author believed that his A-level Spanish, which he hadn't practiced for almost ten years, would sustain him in a sales call to a telecoms specialist in Madrid. It didn't. Mainly because most of the language required for this conversation was technical terminology that I hadn't even mastered in English yet.

Funnier still was the resolute belief of some of my neighbouring consultants that the key to overcoming the language barrier was speaking as loudly and slowly as possible. Add a bad phone line to the equation and you got the hilarious sight of them bellowing the same phrases down the phone for 30 minutes with all eyes on them as an office of 70 people was forced to wait for the call to end before resuming their own work.

Fail!

4) Tried and tested tricks of the trade

I asked several of my friends from the industry, who shall remain nameless to send me the best lines they had ever used to acquire their target. Here are some of my favourites:

The alter-egos: Dr Gray and Gupta Singh

"I pretended to be a "Dr James Gray" who had significant and confidential health news for the Chief Tech Officer of a major telecommunications company. This actually fooled his secretary who apparently kept on asking him what health problems he had for months afterward."

This still isn't as bad as another chap named Gary whose alter-ego was "Gupta Singh", a pushy and annoying Indian man that would not take no for an answer. Direct quote: "It's easier to be rude if you sound foreign".

Perhaps the most entertaining part of Dr Gray's contribution was when I challenged him on the ethics of his approach and that of his colleague, to which he responded:

Well it was 2005... and I take no responsibility for Gary!

The name droppers: Randall Savage and the Fugees

Another friend of mine and his team decided to make cold calling more interesting by challenging each other name drop professional wrestlers in their conversations. The premise of the game, as he explained, was:

"Who could name the most pro-wrestlers in one lead stripping exercise. For example: Interesting you worked for Jimmy Jib IT Solutions Ltd. I work with Randall, Randall Savage - was he your manager down there?"

I myself vividly remember one Friday afternoon where my team and I decided to play a little game of or own: who could insert a song title into their cold call and make it sound completely natural? The winning song proved to be 'Killing me Softly' thanks to this conversation:

Headhunter: Is that Dave?

Dave: Speaking.

Headhunter: Hi Dave. My name is XXX and I'm calling from XXX. I found your CV online today and think you'd be perfect for the job I'm working on - are you looking for work right now?

Dave: No, I'm not. Sorry.

Headhunter: Oh no, Dave, mate, you're killing me softly here. Are you sure?

Unfortunately, 'Rasberry Beret' proved to be less fruitful (no pun intended) and ended with the consultant hanging up on his customer half way through the call when he couldn't bring himself to finish the job.

Where was I in all this? I was the one picking the song titles for other people to say. Hey, I was bored, not stupid.

Do not try this at work!

The worst cold call trick I have ever heard used is someone posing as the flatmate of the person they want to reach, calling to tell them that their house is on fire and they could not get through to them on their mobile. Practice this one at your own peril boys and girls because God help you when you actually get through to that person and you have to explain who you really are.

Think outside the box - yes!
Pretend the box is on fire - no!

That's it from me.

Hugs :)

Tales of a Headhunter part 2: Pranks and Prats

I was so touched by the enthusiastic response to 'Tales of a Headhunter - part 1', I decided to follow it up with 'part 2 - pranks and prats'. Much as the title suggests, my colleagues (and unfortunately myself) were as great a source of amusement as my customers, so here is a collection of our best and worst moments - mostly our worst. No names are mentioned, but you know who you are....

Porn in the airport

If you're travelling straight to the airport after work for a much needed holiday abroad, then do not leave your luggage unattended for even a second. Here's what happens if you fail to heed this golden rule. It's late in the afternoon and you've gone to the toilet to spruce yourself up before your long trip. Sensing that this will be their last chance to ruin your day, your calculating colleagues open up the bag you have unwittingly left next to your desk. They slide some scissors (or anything sharp and metallic they can find) into the bag on top of your belongings - which they then cover in a layer of porn. Lots and lots of truly heart-stopping, obscene, probably illegal in most countries, hardcore porn.

They zip up the bag before you return to your desk, not suspecting a thing. You get all the way to the airport, you check in, you stroll through passport control, and then you hit customs. "I'm sorry sir, but there appears to a sharp metallic object in your bag which you're not allowed to carry on board with you - do you mind if we open it up and take a look?" Your heart begins to beat out of your chest. You know something is up. You remember how weirdly happy your team was to see you go on your way out. You know they've done something, but it's too late to check for yourself. The customs official is opening the bag while young families and old ladies stare at you wondering what you've done. Boy are they about to get a shock.

Porn everywhere!!!! Sweat pours down your face, pee pours down your trouser leg - which really doesn't help your case considering the circumstances. Out comes the offending item, the scissors, which the official puts to one side. He doesn't speak - he just judges you silently, but as carrying porn does not contravene any laws, he slowly starts to repackage the pages of filth - girl filth, boy filth, girl on girl filth, filth with animals, one page at a time until your bag is ready to be zipped up again.

Finally, it ends and you are allowed to go through and your first instinct is to call those bastards who did this to you and set them straight, so you make the call only to find yourself on speakerphone ranting to the whole office about your ordeal against a backdrop of uncontrollable laughter - you will never ever live this down.

Sadly, when my team tried to play this trick on our boss before his flight to New Zealand last year, he was one step ahead and was sure to check his bag before he left and remove both the porn and the scissors. How did he know? Perhaps it had something to do with him being part of the group that successfully carried off the prank several years before at his previous firm. After all, you don't become a manager by falling for pranks like that. However, that still doesn't save you from having to clean up the mess left by your newest underling the day before his promotion to your team comes into effect - read on.....

*****

The curse of predictive text....and more porn

Note: if that witty put-down you just have to put into writing is really that good, it will still be cutting edge humour if you take a few extra seconds to double check the email addresses added in your 'cc' box.

It's new year's eve. You're taking it easy (while pretending to be hard at work of course). You've just been promoted and you're feeling pretty good about yourself. You have three days off after this and then you start your new job at your new desk, sitting next to your new boss. What could you possibly do to screw this up?

Respond to an email designed to rile you up with what you think if the cleverest quip ever since you schooled that wise-arse in Kindergarten with the unanswerable "I know you are, but what am I?" That's what. But no, you can do better than that. You can force him to share his humiliation with his entire team who you promptly copy in. You have to get in their quick though, so you just type in the first letters of their names and let Outlook do the rest - after all, how many other people in the world are likely to be called 'Howard'?

Oh and I did I mention the porn? But of course, this particular 'banter' exercise all began with someone sending you a picture of two men enjoying the love that dare not speak its name followed by a taunt so wounding you can't for the life of you remember what it was now. So, you write your piercing comeback - something about just wanting to be friends and not touching him in that way if your life depended on it. Get it? You're pretending that him sending you the picture was actually an attempted sexual advance. My word, aren't you clever? Stewie from 'Family Guy' is literally taking notes as we speak.

You press send. Let the humiliation begin. Your humiliation. The targeted team cracks up in hysterics (mission accomplished) apart from Howard, who for some reason has no idea what's going on. Did he not receive the email?

OH MY GOD, HOWARD DIDN'T RECEIVE THE EMAIL! 

Someone else called Howard, who you recently placed with one of the country's leading broadcasters, however, did receive the email. By the way, did I mention this Howard was gay?

Time to call in the boss - not the outgoing boss, he can't stop laughing. He manages to pull himself together for just long enough to drag me (I mean, the idiot who did this is who is not me under any circumstances whatsoever) over to the new boss. "He's your problem now - you: tell him what you've done." To this day, I must credit the coolness of his reaction. How do I describe it? Hmmm, anyone remember Harvey Keitel's character in Pulp Fiction: 'The Wolf'? Not a harsh word, not a single smirk, not even a raised eyebrow - just one very awkward phone call. Not to Howard, but to the account manager responsible for the client Howard is now working for. It would be his job to break the news, but first my boss had to break it to him and here is what he said:

"Hi mate. Sorry to bother you on your day off, but we've got a problem. Tony accidentally sent an email that was intended for someone in the office to one of your candidates and it contains a really explicit picture. What does the picture look like? Well mate, it's not good. I don't know how to say this - alright: basically, it's two blokes....bent double without a stitch on...and well....one's f***ing the other. Can you handle it?"

Boys and girls, you'll be glad to know, Howard simply dismissed it for what it was, another piece of mis-directed banter. I say 'another' as it later transpired that I was in fact the second person in my office to do that to him in a week - the first being the account manager. No wonder he was so calm under fire that morning.

*****

Best of the rest

The office arsehole who got his come-uppance when his colleague relented and gave him the lead into a contact at Mcvities (the company famous for its snacks and biscuits for the benefit of my non-English friends). He had about five conversations with a series of receptionists, who one can only assume were also in on the gag as he had to work out the prank for himself. This is how the last one went:

Office arsehole: "Hello. Can I speak to a Mr Caracas please?
Receptionist: "Can you give me his full name please?"

Office arsehole: "Yes, it's Karim. That's Mr Karim Caracas. Is he there?
Receptionist: (Muffled laughter)

Office arsehole: "I'm sorry, but I really do need to speak to Karim Caracas. Can you please tell me if he's.....(finally works it out and slams down phone).

Office arsehole to colleague: "You bastard!"

*****

How about the wet behind the ears sales consultant who recently survived sending an explicit email to the wrong person days before starting his new position?

Anonymous caller: "Hello can I speak to [insert name of team manager] please?
Sales consultant: "Can I ask who's speaking?"

Anonymous caller: "I'm an old friend of his and he's expecting my call. The name is Mr Bred. First name, Peter."
Sales Consultant: "No problem - hold one moment and I'll see if he's available."

Sales consultant to team manager: "You have a call from a bloke who says he's a friend of yours - says his name is Peter Bred."
Team manager: "His name is Peter Bred? Are you having a laugh?" (whole team laughing in the background)

Sales consultant: Oh s**t!!!

*****

Finally, there's the classic email hack. Fortunately it was so common place where I used to work that I was just about able to convince my boss that I too had fallen prey to the oldest prank in the book (since email was invented anyway) when he received the following message from me:

"I'm fed up of you and your crackpot methods. You don't have a clue what you're talking about. I want to work for a real man who knows what they're doing. I hereby tender my resignation with immediate effect."

And no, I didn't actually send it myself just to see if I could get away with it. I may be stupid enough to send offensive pornographic pictures to new customers, but I'm not that stupid. To the person who did do it (and we both know who you are) you, sir, are a prat!

*****

Until next time folks...

Send me your stories and we can make a whole series out of this!

Hugs :)

Tales of a head-hunter: If you think you've seen everything - you haven't

A collection of the most memorable CVs I screened in brief career as an international recruitment consultant along with a whirlwind tour of politically incorrect global stereotypes.

Enjoy.

Memorable People:

My first and best memory is not of a customer, but a co-worker, who we will simply call 'J'. J's greatest hits could fill a 300 page book, but his crowning moment came when instructed to find a consultant for a Chinese customer based in Iran. The customer emphatically insisted that they would only consider white European men (the Chinese and Iranians clearly still have some catching up to do when it comes to workplace discrimination). So J, in his infinite wisdom, sent them an African-American woman. How I would have loved to be a fly on that wall!

One of the main pitfalls of recruitment is that you are never off duty. Hence, on one cold Saturday afternoon, I found myself in the office listening to the most excruciating conference call of my life. I was there to preside over an interview between an engineer from one side of the world and a manager on the other, both of whom had a tenuous grasp of the English language at best. This is how it started - and no I am not making this up!

Engineer: "Hello!" 
Manager: "Tell me about yourself" 

Engineer: "Helloooo!" 
Manager: "Tell me about yourself" 

Engineer: "Helloooooo! 
Manager: "No. I ask question. You give answer"

It went downhill from there and lasted 25 minutes. Needless to say, he didn't get the job.

Next up, the woman whose last job was developing software for Iranian missile systems. I'll just let that one sink in slowly.

Memorable CVs:

I once opened up a CV from a guy who had responded to one of my adverts for a vacancy in some far flung place on the other side of the universe - Wales, I think. He had inserted a picture of himself at the top and this bloke was the meanest, biggest, toughest looking badass I had ever seen. Hands as big as my head and bling everywhere. I was getting nervous about calling this dude. Then I saw the accompanying email he sent as a cover letter, which simply read:

Please see attached for my CV 
Hugs :)

Most memorable CVs stand out because they are so wildly different from every other, so why do I so vividly remember the application of a project administrator whose profile was totally ordinary and very similar to the 100 CVs I had seen before hers? The answer lies in her 'hobbies'. There was: reading (normal), seeing friends (normal), going for long walks (normal) followed by...."I am currently building a robot" (WTF!!!) 

Finally, spare a thought for the south american telecoms engineer who built telephone masts and towers for a living and had to write his CV in English even though he barely spoke the language. He decided the best way around this problem was to use as few words as possible to avoid showing himself up. Unfortunately no-one explained the concept of sexual inuendo when he listed his key skills as: "erection, installation, and acceptance". Good for him!

A head-hunter's guide to national stereotypes:

The bit you've all blatantly been waiting for. I am not kidding with this by the way. These are all alarmingly accurate - provided you're a man and a telecoms engineer. Otherwise it's probably a steaming pile of bullsh*t.

English: Straightforward and to the point, but only interested in what you can do for them. An Englishman will tell you what he wants to do, where he wants to work, and how much money he expects to earn. Just don't expect him to win any awards for motivational speaking.

German: Efficient, thorough, and terrified of change. If you can find one who doesn't insist on being given three months to leave their old job and another three months to negotiate their salary and benefits package at their new job, then you might just be on to a winner.

French: OMG! They just love being French. An admirable quality if you respect the pride a people take in their nation. A right pain in the arse if you're trying to get them to move abroad for that deal you're banking on to pay off your student loan. Those damn Frenchmen, refusing to come over here and not taking our jobs (wait, what?)

Spanish: High-maintenance, but friendly and trustworthy. If only it didn't take them 2 weeks to decide what clothes to put on in the morning, they would be my favourites. After all, they could be worse. They could be...

Italian: STAY AWAY!!! If I had to sum up this lot in three words, it would be: Fickle as F*ck. Selling to an Italian is like a doomed love affair. First, they tell you exactly what you want to hear: "I luv-a this-a job-a! I would-a start-a tomorrow if I could-a!". So, you get them an interview and they charm your client just as they charmed you. Suddenly, they start taking longer to respond to your voice-messages and emails, but it doesn't matter because they've just been offered the job, so what could possibly go wrong? Then, comes the phone call: "I am-a so-a sorry-a, but-a I can't-a leave-a Italy-a. I must stay-a home-a with my family-a". Finally comes the line we've all heard before: "It's-a not-a you-a. It's- a me-a." (pull the other one Giuseppe). Only after losing out on FIVE deals, did I learn my most valuable life lesson: the only thing more difficult than working out what women want, is working out what Italians want.

Greek: The ultimate power players. If they know you need them more than they need you, they will milk it for all it's worth. They are under some strange illusions about how the industry works though like the guy who tried to bribe me when I told him is application had been rejected. I politely explained to him that he could offer me the world, but that still wouldn't change the fact he didn't speak German

Romanian: Ideal candidates because they will go anywhere. If they had their own TV show, it would be called "I'm a Romanian. Get me out of here!"

Russian: I swear their phones must be bugged 24/7 because talking to these guys is like being a character in a Tom Clancy novel. The only way around it is if you happen to have a Russian colleague who can calmly explain to them in their own language that the English dude with a ridiculously posh accent is not James Bond and does not secretly want to kill him.

Countries you can count on: Netherlands (the most laid back people in the world), Brazil (like Italians, but can actually be trusted), New Zealand (I am yet to meet a New Zealander who I did not instantly like), Philippines (the hardest-working people in the world. You can call them up at 3am and they will take your call - really they will; I tried it).

There end the tales of a head hunter. I hope you have had as much fun as I have and I look forward to reading your stories next.

Hugs :)