Elan Samirhaz

Ah, hiring the perfect candidate. The elusive unicorn. The holy grail of HR. It sounds like a dream, doesn’t it? Finding that one person who ticks all the boxes, fits the company culture like a glove, and can practically recite your company values in their sleep. But here’s the thing: hiring the "perfect fit" is exactly like online dating. It's a messy, occasionally heartbreaking process that comes with a lot of swiping, awkward small talk, and yes, a few outright disasters. Buckle up, because this ride is full of metaphors and hard truths. The job post is your profile picture – make it swipe-worthy Let’s start at the beginning. In online dating, your profile picture is your first impression. (Yes, even if it’s heavily filtered.) In hiring, your job description is the equivalent. If your job post sounds like a robot wrote it after binge-watching corporate PowerPoint presentations, don’t expect candidates to “super-like” your listing. “Dynamic self-starter with a passion ...

Ah, the company code of conduct—a document that HR departments pour their hearts and souls into, only to have it read about as often as the terms and conditions on a Netflix subscription. We lovingly craft these policies with the best of intentions, painstakingly wording every clause, every bullet point, only to hear employees say, “Code of what? Is that the Wi-Fi password?” If you’re an HR professional like me (hello, fellow keepers of workplace sanity), you know the drill. You send out the latest version of the code with the subject line “IMPORTANT: Must Read!” and watch as exactly zero people click on it. Maybe one person does open it, but only because they thought “Code of Conduct” was the name of a new true-crime documentary on Netflix. So, let’s talk about why this happens and, more importantly, how we can make this thing less of a sedative and more of a useful, dare I say interesting , resource. The problem: it’s boring and nobody cares Let’s be brutally honest—most codes of con...

Welcome to the ultimate workplace showdown: Gen Z versus Baby Boomers. In one corner, we have the TikTok-savvy digital natives, sipping oat milk lattes and asking for "mental health days." In the other, the seasoned veterans of the workforce who proudly built their careers without needing an app for that, armed with an arsenal of stories about "how we used to do things." And somewhere in the middle? HR, frantically playing referee while dodging a flurry of generational jabs and cultural curveballs. It’s like Survivor: Corporate Edition, except instead of being stuck on an island, we’re all stuck in a Slack channel trying to figure out who changed the notification tone again. Who are these people, and why can’t they just get along? Let’s start with a quick character breakdown. Gen Z, the newest kids on the block, are the ones who think email is as outdated as dial-up internet and who consider emojis an acceptable form of workplace communication (pro tip: it is not o...

Ah, the exit interview. That bittersweet ritual where departing employees are granted the sacred mic and HR sits there trying to figure out if they’re about to hear a well-thought-out critique or a verbal Molotov cocktail. If you’ve ever been on the HR side of one of these interviews, you know it’s like opening a mystery box. Is it a box of chocolates? Or is it one of those glitter bombs you can never clean up? Let’s dive in and unpack this strange yet oddly fascinating tradition. The setup: an awkward stage for the final act Picture this: the employee has already handed in their resignation, their desk plant has mysteriously disappeared, and their computer desktop is squeaky clean because they’ve wiped all their browser history (just in case). The exit interview is scheduled for their last week, and HR is left with the task of playing both detective and therapist. It’s a little like speed dating, except instead of trying to win someone over, you’re hoping they’ll be brutally honest… b...

Oh, open space offices. The shimmering promise of collaboration, creativity, and endless opportunities to overhear your coworkers argue about what really happened in last night's Netflix binge. At first glance, open offices seemed like the lovechild of Silicon Valley innovation and IKEA efficiency. A utopia where ideas flow like free coffee and everyone’s just vibing . In reality? They're more like the office equivalent of those unskippable YouTube ads that force you to endure 10 seconds of pure torture. Except this ad runs from 9 to 5, Monday through Friday. Now, before the open office defenders out there clutch their standing desks in outrage, hear me out. As someone who has lived and breathed the corporate world for over a decade, I’ve seen this setup go from “groundbreaking innovation” to “why is Linda eating a tuna sandwich two feet away from me?” in record time. The myth of “collaboration” (spoiler: nobody’s collaborating) Open office advocates sell us this dream of a dy...