A Career-Pivoter’s Perspective on Professional Certifications
There’s a lot of emerging interest in professional certification within the GIS industry, and they are tightly integrated with the professional standards of the cybersecurity industry (where I am attempting to expand my skills). Now that I have some exposure to the culture of professional certification across these two highly-technical industries, I want to share some personal lessons learned for students, my career-pivoting fellow travelers, recruiters, hiring managers, and anyone else interested in the topic. I’ll share stories of pursuing, failing, gaining, and reflecting on certifications, but won’t bother discussing or comparing any particular certs, because that’s been done to death, and I’m no expert on it anyway.
1. Failure is a Teacher
I failed my first certification exam in 2013 or 2014. It was the ArcGIS Desktop Associate 10.1 exam from Esri, the company that holds a dominant position in the commercial GIS software market. I don’t remember exactly why I pursued it, but I am guessing that it was in response to the imposter syndrome I was feeling after accepting my first true enterprise GIS position with the City of Portland’s corporate GIS team. Pursuing certification seemed like a great way to show my skeptical coworkers that I knew what I was doing, and just maybe convince myself as well. So, filled with a mixture of insecurity and arrogance, I waltzed in to the testing center having done zero studying or preparation. Imagine my disappointment when I saw that I had failed the exam! How could that happen? I thought. It was an inauspicious start to my journey into the world of professional certifications, but it lit a fire and gave me a good dose of humility that’s been the greatest reward.
Pursuing technical certification benefits us on that human level, by teaching us how to accept the limits of our knowledge, while giving us the courage and discipline to push them.
I went home and ordered the study guide. Like a loser, said my insecurity. But as I slogged the book, it occurred to me that I had a lot to learn about ArcGIS Desktop software. No one had ever sat me down and forced me to explain the difference between a join, relate, and relationship class, or the difference between a GUID and a GLOBALID. Now I was forcing myself to do that, to prove to myself that I could. Once I passed my Desktop Associate test and went on to earn several other Esri technical certifications, I realized how little I know and how much more there is to learn.
It’s such a human thing to feel insecure at work, especially in a technical field like GIS or cybersecurity. Pursuing technical certification benefits us on that human level, by teaching us how to accept the limits of our knowledge, while giving us the courage and discipline to push them.
2. Nobody cares about your digital badge.
When I obtained my Project Management Professional (PMP) in 2018, I expected accolades. I have new letters that go after my name! I spent 180 hours studying for this! I walked into the office feeling 10 feet tall, only to find that my colleagues were…99% indifferent to the news. This is not a dig at the PMP specifically. The same thing has happened with every cert I’ve gotten before that, and since.
The sad truth is, no one sees you staying up late, spending your weekend studying, doing practice tests on your lunch break, or dreaming about risk management techniques and stakeholder engagement strategies. Spouses and cohabitating partners go to bed, and roommates leave to go to the movies or to the bar. The path of professional certification is lonely and for most people, there’s no pot of gold at the end. As I stare down my next certification effort (which is sure to be a doozy because they all are) I have to ask myself: What am I doing this for?
…no one sees you staying up late, spending your weekend studying, doing practice tests on your lunch break…
I am not an expert on recruiting in cybersecurity or GIS, but that certifications alone will not get you a job. It may get you a raise; it may not. So, to summarize:
- Coworkers don’t really care (or there’s no guarantee that they will)
- Hiring managers don’t really care (or there’s no guarantee that they will)
- Bosses might care, or might just give you a pat on the back
- Depending on where you work, certification may be viewed with skepticism or suspicion
This leaves me to conclude that I pursue certifications because I love (and need) to learn, and it makes me better at my job. Whether my employers (past or future) realize it or not, I have saved countless hours of my own time and the time of my colleagues using techniques, skills, and knowledge that I gained in pursuit of professional certification. I don’t need everyone to know that — I just need to recognize it myself and take pride in that.
3. The Industry is a Culture
A few years back, my wife and I (both West Coasters who live in Portland, OR) learned the basics of Cajun and Zydeco dance. We both love the music and food of L’Acadiane and my wife wanted to try to get me into some form of partner dance. The dancing was unfamiliar to both of us, but the community in Portland is both vibrant and welcoming. (My normal mode of dancing is very carefree and limb-centric, a product of mid-aughts ska, pop-punk, and late-aughts dubstep.) With a few months of instruction under our belts, we headed off for a two week vacation to Lafayette and New Orleans, ready to experience whatever it had in store for us. Showing up to southern Louisiana knowing a few Zydeco dance steps was awesome — I’m not going to say we fit right in, but I felt infinitely more comfortable at shows and dances knowing how to participate and having at least a few basic dance moves in my repertoire. We were still tourists, but somehow I felt less “touristy” having studied and participated in the dancing that is so important to that part of the country.
Now that I am exploring a new industry, I hope that certifications will be my Zydeco dance moves (I really love a fanciful metaphor). I don’t expect to fit right in or instantly be accepted into the professional community. By studying the basics and benchmarking my knowledge and skills against an established set of standards, I hope to acknowledge the expertise of established industry pros, and signal my commitment to doing the work to become one.
Industries like cybersecurity, project management, and GIS have their own distinct cultures and traditions. Certifications with an experience aspect (like the GISP, PMP, or CISSP) enhance, strengthen, and enrich the industry culture. Significantly, these certifications also all come with a code of ethics to which certified individuals are bound. As a PMP and GISP, I am required to respect the work of my peers, accurately represent my own abilities, and act in a way that enhances the reputation and integrity of GIS and project management professionals. I hope someday to gain the CISSP, which requires certification holders to, among other things, “Protect society, the common good, necessary public trust and confidence, and the infrastructure.”
My certification journey, and the professional experiences that go along with it, are an expression of my values, which include curiosity, discipline, and humility. It’s all a work in progress. I hope my story helps those who are considering certification, developing certifications, or wondering what the point is. Good luck, and remember to go to the bathroom before you take your test.
