My Reminder to Visit the Next Employer Rang During the Current Company's Job Fair Presentation

I wanted to learn about just one more company

It was my first multi-company recruitment event since starting my job search. In Japan, events where several employers gather to introduce their work and recruitment are often called joint company information sessions. I clicked through the participating companies on the event website and planned the order I'd visit. Someone had advised me to look beyond familiar names, so I included companies I knew little about. I hoped learning more would make the uncertainty feel smaller.

The schedule I'd made at home had almost no gaps. After each presentation, I'd walk to the next area, sit if a seat was available, or listen from the back if necessary. Even if I didn't decide to apply right away, I thought the information would help later. My unfamiliar suit felt awkward every time I sat down. Still, following the order on the page seemed like a way to avoid wasting the day.

There was more to take in at the venue than I'd expected. Greeting people who handed out materials took time, and the distance between areas felt different from the map. I added a moving-on alarm to my phone so I wouldn't miss the next company's presentation. When it rang, I could simply leave. It felt like a device that would let me listen to what was in front of me and keep track of what came next at the same time.

A young employee at the presentation I joined was explaining their first year at work. Hearing what the job actually involved interested me more than a polished introduction would have. I added notes beneath the questions I'd prepared. I also thought about leaving quietly through the rear aisle when it was time to move. What I hadn't pictured was the phone in my bag loudly announcing that plan first.

The next company's name rang even louder in my head

The employee was describing a mistake they'd made as a newcomer when my bag began ringing. For a moment, I looked up, thinking it was a venue announcement. Then I saw the person next to me glance at my bag. Papers rustled as I searched for the phone I'd tucked between handouts. The speaker paused briefly before I reached the stop button. I lowered my head and apologized.

The screen displayed the next company's name, which I'd typed in myself. I couldn't tell whether anyone else had read it. To me, though, those words felt even more embarrassing than the sound. Did it look as if I wasn't interested in the person speaking? I'd just begun wanting to hear more, yet my phone was telling me it was time to leave. A schedule meant to help me work hard had become a signal that I was rushing past someone in front of me.

The employee continued. I put my phone away and looked back at my notebook, but I'd missed what they had been saying. I noticed my neighbor taking notes and nodding. Trying to look extra attentive felt awkward too. I nearly checked how many minutes remained before the next session, then stopped myself. The alarm I'd set to avoid missing a time had made me miss the very information I'd come to hear.

When the presentation ended, I briefly apologized again while gathering my handouts. The employee lightly remarked that I must have a busy schedule to manage. I felt a little relieved, but also realized how hard I had been pushing myself. They weren't there to judge my whole day, and I hadn't failed at preparation if I didn't hear every company on my list. Instead of immediately running off with my bag, I paused in the corridor to catch my breath.

Keeping my schedule and showing interest could go together

I sat down and looked over what remained. Not every company I'd marked mattered equally to me. Some were there because I was curious; others filled gaps that made me anxious. Only then did I see that I needed a little space between presentations to organize my notes. I wanted a day that clarified what kind of work interested me, rather than a day in which I missed absolutely no company.

I didn't remove every moving-on reminder. With a large venue and a few presentations I particularly wanted to hear, a quiet signal could still help. Instead, I deleted unnecessary alarms and checked what remained before joining each talk. If I needed to leave partway through, I first checked the guidance on entering and leaving, then chose a seat near the aisle. The preparation had to include how I'd move, as well as how I'd stop a sound.

Before another event, I tried Nenne's earphone alarm at home. I listened through the earphones I would actually use and practiced stopping the alarm on screen. I also planned to check whether using an earphone was appropriate at the venue. If it made listening to a presentation harder, I could simply check the time visually. The alarm wouldn't choose a company for me. Helping me quietly notice a necessary moment was enough.

I added empty spaces to the schedule too. I marked phrases I hadn't understood in my notes and left time to ask questions at a company that interested me more than expected. If the timing changed, I could change the plan. Trying to look thoroughly prepared had made me less flexible. Bringing home one thing I'd heard and considered for myself was closer to my purpose than completing every box.

At the next presentation, my own questions returned to my notes

On another event day, I organized my bag and phone before things began. I checked messages and personal reminders, looked over the route, then took out my notebook. There were fewer companies on the page this time. Whenever that number made me uneasy, I read the reasons I'd written beside them. I tried to focus on what I understood, rather than how many brochures other people were carrying.

When I checked my reminder during a presentation, the speaker kept talking. I could tell how much time remained before moving without disrupting anyone around me. I didn't have to stand up immediately. I finished listening and taking notes, then moved according to the event guidance. That day, knowing the time I'd chosen and being considerate toward the person speaking felt like things that could genuinely happen together.

At one company, I asked a question that hadn't been on my list. I wanted to know whom new employees could approach for help while learning the job, and how. The answer gave a slightly different meaning to something I'd read on the website. I missed another presentation, but the time didn't feel wasted. Leaving the venue, I could tell a friend about something useful I'd heard. It was a more specific memory than a list of company names.

During a job search, even waiting can feel like falling behind. I still understand the urge to fill a schedule and set several alarms. But the effort I put into preparing doesn't have to make a loud announcement. Quietly keeping track of my next commitment lets me listen a little better to the current one. Since then, I think first about the questions I brought home, rather than how quickly I made my way around the venue.

Related stories

• I chose a vibration alarm at a study café—then my whole desk started rattling
• Choosing an Earphone Alarm App? Check These 7 Things Before Installing
• Read more everyday stories