How the recruit is structured to reward a certain kind of person
I had a great recruit experience. I received a handful of on-campus interviews (OCIs), the same number of in-firms, and got a job at a prestigious firm. But as someone who has suffered from severe mental illness in the past, it was easy for me to imagine a drastically different result—one where my disability, which I know didn’t affect the quality of my work, would have put me at a huge disadvantage simply because of how the recruit is structured and the kind of person it rewards. That person? Probably white, probably upper-class, can make great small talk about things in that demographic’s cultural zeitgeist, probably cis-gender, hetero-sexual, neurotypical, and mentally healthy. If it’s a marker of privilege, the recruit is structured to reward you for it.
During my OCIs and in-firm interviews, I chatted with my interviewers about HBO shows, Taylor Swift’s discography, and fancy restaurants around Toronto. I happen to have grown up watching HBO, enjoying white-indie-sad-girl music, and eating at restaurants with my wealthy parents. Connecting with my interviewers about these shared interests and experiences felt good—not just because it was easier than talking about my professional life, but because each of those conversations felt like a way to win major brownie points with the employer.
And I think they really were. It felt like the interviewers wanted me to be the kind of person they could be friends with, and I was lucky to be able to play that role. People whose interests, experiences, or ways of communicating do not align with that standard would be disadvantaged by the recruit process. And since the recruit is more about “vibe-checking” than anything substantive about your working abilities, finding common ground with your interviewers is paramount (even the Career Development Office encouraged me to focus on building rapport with my interviewers to leave them “feeling good” about me). It’s like being on Love Island: the most privileged applicants are the hottest bombshells in the villa. I think? I’ve never actually seen Love Island. Lucky for me, only one(!) of my interviewers brought up that show, and I was able to quickly steer the conversation toward The Kardashians (a reality TV show that I watch). See my point?
It’s also painfully clear that someone struggling with mental illness could be hugely disadvantaged by the recruit process. Spending hours on end being evaluated by a revolving door of new people is terrifying for even the chillest among us. Add a dash of generalized anxiety, and you’ve got a recipe for panic. Add a sprinkle of difficulty reading social cues, and the Zoom format does you no favours.
In the past, I have struggled with severe depression and anxiety. Thanks entirely to my privilege and family connections, I was able to quickly see a psychiatrist and get on medications (which are not cheap). I just as easily could have fallen through the cracks in our disastrously inaccessible mental healthcare system, and had to go through the recruit while struggling with challenges that significantly affected my ability to present well to employers. Despite the fact that the recruit purports to incorporate accessibility into its processes, do you really think I would have received an offer if I had a panic attack on the Zoom with a Bay Street partner or the Ministry of the Attorney General recruiter?
I don’t think the Law Society of Ontario (LSO) understands that they can’t slap the word “equity” onto their processes and assume they’ve done their part in advancing equity in the profession. I don’t think they realize that disadvantage isn’t just a time-you-faced-a-challenge anecdote; it isn’t pretty, presentable, tidy, or ‘professional.’ Maybe they know this and just don’t want to acknowledge it because if they had to acknowledge it, they would not be able to conduct the recruit this way.
I realize that some of these problems are inherent to interviews in general, and not something the LSO can easily change. But other aspects of the recruit, like the condensed time frame in which OCIs and in-firms occur, the length and speed of interviews, the convoluted mind games you’re expected to play, the moment’s-notice decisions you’re expected to make, and the stuffy social interactions you’re rewarded for being good at, could easily be reformed. Here are some suggestions:
- Split up two-hour interviews into shorter ones throughout the day or week or scrap ‘call day’ in favour of an online interview scheduling system.
- Overhaul the vague signalling and mental gymnastics expected of students (like needing to schedule their favourite employers at 10am, and the fabled ‘first-choice language’).
- Make an effort to pair marginalized applicants with interviewers to whom they can relate.
- Offer more accommodations based on personal student needs and make it clear to students that they will not be judged or penalised for seeking these accommodations, and hold employers accountable to that.
It is frankly shocking to me that the LSO, which touts itself as being “committed to ensuring equal access for people with disabilities and treating people with disabilities in a way that allows them to maintain their dignity and independence and embodies the principles of integration and equal opportunity,” has not taken steps to reform the stressful and inequitable recruit process. It makes me think that the legal profession has not changed much over recent years—it attracts and rewards the same people it always has.
