Like a baseball pitcher, the exceptional communicator chooses a delivery for a specific effect.
Why do so many job listings call for an "exceptional communicator"?
This phrase appears so often in postings that I searched one of the recruitment sites for Exceptional Communicator Jobs in Chicago. I came up with 9,000 listings. Is there even enough oxygen in the Windy City for thousands of exceptional communicators?
Resumes adopt keywords from job postings, so mine should state that I have "exceptional written, oral, interpersonal, and presentation skills." In theory, that exact wording will engage the job-matching robot and move me to the top of the list.
In the real world, Exceptional Communicator is not a job title. Human screeners would reject "exceptional communicator" on a resume—that's not how exceptional communicators write. Get past the HR department and into an interview, and less-than-exceptional communicators will be on the other side of the desk. Your mission is to draw out at least some details about the job beyond those buzzwords, and to display a few useful skills. It's exceptionally difficult.
Exceptionalism disproves a rule
Applicants need to show that they're aware of their communication style, but they may have trouble defining it. The great writers learn to "show, don't tell," but HR departments aren't looking for Chekhov an a resume. A glint of light on broken glass certainly won't interest the applicant tracking software in your moonlighting.
How do you describe a communication style? My research suggests that there are three basic communication types, or four major styles, or five ways to communicate or maybe six, or "your style is unique."
Resume robots pick out words like collaboration or flexibility that imply an approach to communication. Exceptional communicators can read a situation and respond in any number of ways—whatever gets results. The rule is not to know your style but to change your style.
