Story time!
Have a seat and grab your favourite beverage…
Late last year, someone asked me to be their reference. I wasn’t their employer, but for whatever reason, she felt comfortable enough with asking me to comment on her character. Shortly after accepting this role, though, I changed my mind.
Since then, I‘ve had some time to reflect, and I wanted to talk about the situation. I learned some important lessons. And maybe you will, too.
Paige (not her real name) and I never met in person. In fact, we first connected a couple of years ago online, via LinkedIn. She worked for a freelance client of mine—an organization with a great reputation. Long ago, I sent her a note asking her if she’d like to have a chat. And although she accepted, I never followed up. For some reason, though, last fall, I finally decided to confirm our connection. And before I knew it, a failed attempt at a Zoom meeting turned into a brief series of phone calls.
Our first chat went well enough. Although our ancestors were from different islands, we shared common ground via our Caribbean heritage. We also shared war stories. The most significant thing that happened to me last year was the loss of my mother, and I spoke a bit about what that had meant to me. The cruel realities of grief have been a shock to my system.
From perspectives on grief, to distasteful employers–as our conversations continued, at first I thought Paige and I were laying the foundation for a decent professional relationship. We spoke mainly about our future plans which included entrepreneurship. Our conversations remained comfortable, and we got along just fine.
And with our 2nd or 3rd conversation, came a surprise: Paige offered to mentor me.
At first I thought it was an unusual offer to make–she didn’t seem to be at any more of a professional advantage than I was. But I accepted.
As I said, during our first conversation, we exchanged backstories and she knew the gist of mine. In the wake of my mother’s death, I was trying to prioritize my mental health. I knew that I needed to be serious about my self care. And quite frankly, although she never disclosed them, I assumed that Paige’s motives were noble.
The rest of our discussions seemed normal: More light entrepreneurial talk, mainly about steps we needed to take, domain names, thoughts on networking events–that sort of thing.
All this while, I should point out that although our conversations were friendly, Page and I still didn’t truly know each other. Sure, she seemed like a nice person. But I didn’t feel especially close to her, and I wasn’t deeply aware of the scope of her life or achievements.
It wasn’t until our fourth call that a question came that took me by surprise: Could I be a reference of hers?
Paige was applying for a program. They were seeking people of good character, and as an experienced mentor, she needed a reference from someone who knew her as a mentee.
At first, I almost felt flattered that she asked me to sing her praises. But then immediately I thought, “Wait! Shouldn’t she be asking someone that she actually knows?”
Yet this reaction was quickly shot down by other ideas: I’m in a new era of my life–growing and changing.
I am still, quite literally, rediscovering myself daily.
Shouldn’t I live a little, loosen up, and be more willing to help others–even those I barely know?
I took a deep breath. And within a few minutes, cautiously, I said yes to Paige’s request.
Interestingly enough, if ever there was a second that I felt confident in my decision, reality quickly gave me the check of a lifetime.
Red flag number one: Although I liked Paige well enough, when I thought of being asked questions about her, or having to make a statement, I drew a blank.
I honestly didn’t know what I could say to vouch for Paige, and ended up reaching out to her for some ideas.
In response, she very kindly sent me a sample reference letter.
Before receiving it, I had already made a plan of attack: I would digest and reword this letter, making its language my own.
Easy-peasy, right?
But the second I laid eyes on Paige’s document, my heart nearly stopped, and all of my doubts were confirmed: In agreeing to be her reference, I’d made a horrible mistake.
A part of me started to shut down as I tried to read her letter. Mentally, I was in a stunned sort of panic, seeking an emergency exit.
Page had assured me that once I sent her recommendation, the organization I was writing to wouldn’t contact me. Yet her claims didn’t ease my mind.
What if she was wrong? Worse yet–because I didn’t truly know her–what if she was lying?
Or–wonder of wonders–what if the organization was known for not contacting references–yet for some reason, they spontaneously decided that I would be the exception to their rule?
As I kept attempting to look over her sweeping text, the reality of the situation forced itself into my chest and behind my eyeballs. I had agreed to submit a statement attesting to someone’s character and achievements—with my name attached.
And that someone was someone that I barely knew.
That didn’t sit right with me.
It was true that I was growing and wanted to expand my horizons. Yet the old me–the AUTHENTIC version of me–still had certain standards. And the fact was that if a message about someone else comes from me, I know that I need to be able to communicate confidently, without feeling like I was memorizing lines from a play that was still being written.
I should also point out that by that time, Paige and I still had not met in person. And four telephone conversations is not enough to guarantee that you genuinely know or are comfortable with someone.
The day after reviewing Paige’s version of what I should say about her, I reached out and rescinded my response: I could not be her reference.
And this is when reality set in.
Naively, I had thought that Paige wouldn’t mind my change of heart. After I expressed my concerns about not being the best person for the job, she had actually used the words “no worries” along with the tried and true, “just let me know what you decide”.
I thought she was being sincere, and had just wanted the facts.
And so, I told her what I’d decided.
I’d even imagined that immediately after I told Paige, she and I would remain on good terms.
After all, according to her, the program she was applying to had open deadlines. She had asked me to be her reference on a Tuesday. That Wednesday, I reviewed her sample reference letter, and in spite of myself, the truth of what I’d signed up for haunted me. And by Thursday, I let her know that I’d changed my mind.
I didn’t anticipate any major problems. As always, our correspondence had remained polite. And as I said, although Paige had wanted me to respond to her personal timeline, she had told me that her program had a flexible deadline. Any worries I’d had about changing my mind were tempered by the idea that she could ask someone else for an endorsement–something that she had mentioned on her own.
More importantly, she would still be able to apply for her program without facing a penalty.
In short, after this mishap, I thought that things between us would go back to normal.
That is of course, until I reached out at the usual day and time for our phone call. Instead of hearing Paige’s voice after 2 or 3 rings, she never picked up the phone. I even sent a message, but there was no follow-up.
Naively, I’d figured I’d at least receive a simple, “Hey, Claire. As I said, it’s okay. Don’t worry about being my reference. I’ll find someone else…”
But no such luck.
By then, it was time for reality to set in. I’d changed my mind about being Paige’s reference. And as far as I could tell, she no longer wanted anything to do with me.
Lessons? Learned.
So. As I said at the start of this post, I’d learned some lessons. But what were they…?
Let me begin by speaking to anyone who may get asked to be someone’s reference. Should you say yes?
I don’t know your life, or who you do and don’t know. And of course, I can’t speak on how well you know someone. But here are a few points for your consideration.
If someone asks you to be their reference, and your first reaction in your head is to say, “Why are they asking me?”
That’s a sign.
Next: If you know you’re going to be asked about someone, and you can’t spontaneously think of what you’d say about them other than, “They seem nice and sound okay on the phone…”
That’s a sign.
And if your forte is writing, and you have no idea of what you could possibly say to endorse someone…. Or in other words, you have to be TOLD what to say about them?
In my opinion, you do not know them well enough to be their reference.
Look…
I don’t want to tell you how to run your relationships.
Maybe you like taking risks. Perhaps living dangerously turns you on…
Before I told Paige I changed my mind–even though I knew it was the right thing for me to do–I had my doubts. So I consulted a friend. What was wrong with me? I wondered. After all, people vouch for people that they barely know all the time!
“Yes, Claire. But you’re not them.”
And I have no idea of if I ever will be. But thus far, that day hasn’t come.
In this world, plenty of people function superficially. They’re satisfied with transactional back-scratching, at the expense of their own values.
But I have no interest in being one of them. And I seriously doubt that’s something that’s going to change.
In all things, it’s best to move with integrity. And remember your boundaries.
Turning the Tables
On the flip side of these circumstances, if you’re the one who is asking someone for a reference, please think carefully. I know that people can find themselves in a rough patch when the time comes to gather different branches of their personal network.
Yet regardless of how desperate you may be to find someone, ask yourself: If the person that you have in mind for a reference can’t write or speak extemporaneously about you, why, exactly, do you want them to be your reference? Don’t you think you deserve a word from someone who is more than a warm body parroting nice words about you?
That is, unless your intention is to just use them.
Nevertheless. When someone writes or speaks about you, don’t you think that they should actually mean what they say?
Because I do.
And if you’re the sort of person who–as you’re just getting to know someone–would ask them to take on a role specifically because you know that eventually you plan to ask that person for a favour–such as to be your reference–I have only one question:
Why?
Doing that is dishonest, to say the least.
I can understand people who volunteer to mentor someone, and then, down the road, they discover organically that they need the person they’ve helped to put in a word for them.
But right now I’m looking back at the time I spent in touch with Paige–from the tone of voice she used when she offered to be my mentor, to the timing of her request. And it’s very, VERY hard for me not to question her intentions.
Ultimately, in the rubble of this swift but enlightening experience, I realized that Karma had finally come for me: Many years ago, I had asked someone if I could use them as a reference. I don’t remember if the person hesitated or not. But I definitely remember their final answer. They said that they couldn’t do what I’d asked because they didn’t know me well enough.
And at first I was hurt. I thought they were purposely being unkind—dismissive and unhelpful.
After all, we got along, etc.
Back then, though, I didn’t think about how important it is for your reference to feel comfortable with being able to attest to your strengths. Regardless of what you may think of your rapport with someone, when you’re asking them to be a reference, it’s their opinion of you–as well as their comfort with sharing it–that matters.
Thankfully, now, I see the error of my old ways of thinking. And as for saying yes to something when my instincts say otherwise?
I think my era of people pleasing is finally over.
If you ask someone to be a reference and they say no, take it from me. It’’s for your own good.
And theirs as well.
