The Art of the Encore
Why energy — not just experience — wins job offers in today’s market
Welcome to Frank Takeaways. I'm Frank, writing the notes worth keeping from decades at companies like Slack, Etsy, and Google. I run a coaching practice dedicated to guiding leaders through the tricky stuff of building products and high-performing teams.
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The crowd at DC's 9:30 Club was drenched in sweat, voices hoarse from singing on a cold Sunday night in early 2005, where a light snow had fallen outside.
Arcade Fire had just played the final notes of "Rebellion (Lies)." The roadies moved toward the stage, but nobody else moved. Instead, the stomping began: first from the back, then rippling forward until the entire venue pulsed with a collective demand: more.
This wasn’t just any concert. It was Arcade Fire’s only show at the legendary 9:30 Club, just months after the release of Funeral. They were on the verge of blowing up. Next time they’d play in DC, it would be at a much larger venue.
But that night, eight musicians crowded the small stage, swapping instruments, pounding drumsticks on motorcycle helmets, climbing speakers like the room couldn’t contain them. Kick drums you could feel in your bones, Win Butler and Régine Chassagne’s unmistakable vocals cutting through it all.
When the band returned for their encore, they didn’t just play another song. They found another gear — somehow surpassing the energy they’d already poured out, when logic said they should’ve been spent.
To close the night, during "In the Backseat," they descended from the stage and wove through the packed venue — yes, with the kick drum in tow — first through the sea of humanity on the main floor, then ascending to the balcony. Their voices melded into one haunting chorus as they disappeared behind the stage.
Years later, what strikes me most about that night isn’t the music (it’s not like the lyrics are easy to understand or the rhythms particularly complex). It’s watching performers who had already given everything give more.
Which brings me to the elephant in the interview room: we’re living in an employer’s market, and it’s getting crowded in here. Landing a dream job (or any job, amirite?) feels less like a sprint and more like an ultra-marathon. But while everyone’s obsessing over resume fonts or LinkedIn headlines, they’re missing something far more important.
The Great Energy Equation
Tell me if this sounds familiar: You’re on your fifth Zoom interview for a role you genuinely want. The calendar reminder pops up, and you feel that familiar weight of the fatigue of explaining your "career journey" so many times you could recite it in your sleep. You catch your reflection: tired, rehearsed, slightly defeated. And then it hits you: this hiring manager doesn’t know you’ve told this story four times already. Ten times this week. For them, this is opening night, not a rerun — tell me about a time when you didn’t zone out in an interview.
Now picture the hiring manager’s view. They’re sifting through resumes that all read like they were generated by the same AI. Everyone’s qualified. Everyone has the right keywords. So what tips the scales?
Here’s the secret: It’s not just what you know or even who you know. It’s how you show up.
When qualifications are nearly identical — and in this market, they usually are — your energy and enthusiasm become your unfair advantage.
The Second Wind Strategy
That's where the magic happens. The best candidates treat each retelling like an encore.
The concert encore has a fascinating history. In the 18th century, audiences would demand their favorite pieces "again" — literally what "encore" means in French — because there was no recording technology.
It was the only way to hear your favorite song again. Over time, encores became ritualized, choreographed into every show. They moved from during the set to after it. But even when they're expected, encores still serve a purpose: they create a closing moment, make the audience feel seen, and leave everyone on a high note.
Think about Bruce Springsteen singing "Born to Run" for the millionth time. He doesn't phone it in because he's tired of the song. He brings opening-night energy every time because every audience deserves it. (Bruce Springsteen is often credited with developing the modern encore into a "second show"-like experience.)
I've been on both sides of this equation. As a candidate, I've bombed interviews when my energy flagged during the seventh retelling of my stakeholder management story —and watched the hiring manager's interest fade in real time. But as an interviewer, I've been captivated by candidates who somehow make rehearsed answers feel fresh and alive, who lean forward and light up when describing their work. That energy is contagious and it makes me want them on my team.
The Human Factor
Every hire is a risk, even in boom times. When employers are increasingly risk-averse, what tips the scales? In addition to relevant experience, they scan for signs of commitment, chemistry, and energy. They want to know: Will this person show up when things get hard?
Instead of asking, "Can this person do the job?" They're asking, "Have they done it before — and do they want to do it here?"
I've sat in plenty of hiring debriefs for product roles where two candidates had similar qualifications. You know what broke the tie?
"Candidate A was solid, but they seemed kind of flat."
"Candidate B asked great questions. They had clear enthusiasm about our user problems and product challenges. They seemed excited to be here."
Nine times out of ten, Candidate B got the offer. Not because they were objectively better. Because they made us believe they cared about the same things we care about.
As Shopify’s CEO and co-founder Tobi Lütke once said: "It is not possible to make great products if the people who work on it do not give a shit about the product." And the same goes for job candidates. Enthusiasm is evidence you’ll care about the work.
Sometimes, enthusiasm even outweighs direct experience. I once hired someone new to product management who had only worked in adjacent areas like customer success. What stood out wasn't their product experience (they didn’t have any) — it was their unmistakable passion for solving user problems. Their energy was contagious during interviews, and they articulated a clear vision for how they'd approach the role.
I was unsure about the hire. Yes, they had enthusiasm in spades, but was it enough? Looking back, it was one of the best hiring decisions I've made. They started in an area that allowed them to build foundational skills, but their enthusiasm propelled rapid growth. Before long, they outgrew their initial role and were chasing bigger challenges.
The Enthusiasm Edge
In a crowded job market, genuine enthusiasm isn't just a nice-to-have — it's your secret weapon. Here's how to wield it effectively without coming across as performative or insincere:
What does that look like?
✅ Thoughtful, specific questions
✅ Speaking about past projects with genuine pride
✅ Acknowledging challenges openly and focusing on how you navigated them
✅ Expressing curiosity about the team, product, or culture
✅ Following up with reflections that show you were paying attention
What it’s not:
🚨 Over-rehearsed, robotic responses
🚨 Low energy or disinterested tone
🚨 Generic answers that could apply anywhere
🚨 Focusing only on what you’ll get, not what you’ll give
🚨 Treating interviews like interrogations, not conversations
Remember: The goal isn't to perform enthusiasm but to connect your genuine interest to their specific needs. When you find the intersection between what energizes you and what they need, that's where the magic happens.
The Only Thing You Control
You can't control the job market, the competition, or whether anyone reads your cover letter (most likely not). But you can control how you show up.
Early in my career, I interviewed for a role I desperately wanted. I approached it with a "professional" demeanor I thought would impress — measured, serious, frankly dull. I didn’t get the job. Months later, I ran into someone on the hiring committee. When I asked about my candidacy, their response surprised me: "You were really qualified, but we weren’t sure you actually wanted to be there."
That feedback stung — but it changed how I approached every interview afterward.
Like the modern encore, your interview performance may feel rehearsed to you, but it’s fresh to every new audience. The hiring team hasn't heard your stories before. For them, it's opening night. Give them a show worth remembering.
So the next time you’re prepping for round five of interviews, channel your inner Springsteen or remember that night at the 9:30 Club, when a band that had already left everything on stage somehow found more to give. The curtain’s up. The mic is hot.
Make every performance count.
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Bonus: Here’s the only video I could find from the night: