I love headhunting. I love its challenge and lack of apology. In a world of recycling, electric cars and “save the seals” headhunters stand aloof, beacons for the anti-establishment. Guns for hire dressed in pin stripe.
Like most dark arts headhunting attracts an idiosyncratic breed. Charming enough to be listened to, perceptive enough to size up candidates and decisive enough to seize half chances of opportunity. A good head-hunter is part investigative journalist, part salesman. He can be your best friend or the bastard who tempts away your chief exec.
However, good headhunters know that they’re only as good as their network of (potential) clients and passive candidates, influencers and VC’s. Going for a short term placement which tramples on a long term relationship is a one way ticket to the poorhouse. Balancing the need to make placements while not shattering hard won connections is the difference between driving a Ferrari and a Mondeo. Walk the tightrope with charm and confidentiality and life really can be a bowl of cherries. Illegally imported cherries of course. I’ve got my rock and roll image to look out for, don’t you know?