Four for what you say. Three for how it looks and sounds. Six red flags before any of it. The whole thing lands in one to two minutes.
Recruiters decide whether to keep watching in the first five seconds. Any one of these in your first frame and you've already lost them. Clear all six and you're ahead of most of the field.
Phones default to portrait. Portrait video plays on a laptop with two black bars and one tiny strip of you in the middle. It signals "I didn't think about this" before you've said hello.
Recruiters watch dozens of these a week. At two minutes they're already mentally moving on. At ninety seconds you've left them curious. Brevity isn't about speed; it's about respect.
The eyes give it away. If you're scanning lines just off-camera, the viewer sees a person reading at them, not talking to them. Connection lost in three seconds.
A monotone delivery reads as "I don't really want this." Even a strong script dies in a flat voice. Recruiters don't hire vibe; they hire signal, and energy is the signal of someone who actually wants the role.
Blank magnolia wall, half-shut door, empty corridor. The picture tells the viewer who you are before the audio kicks in. A backdrop with zero personality reads as a candidate with zero personality.
Bedhead, crumpled t-shirt, three-day stubble that wasn't intentional. The viewer sees the same effort you'd bring to day one. Personal presentation is the silent first sentence.
The best intro videos sandwich the work between two human moments. Open by being a real person the viewer wants to know more about. Tell two short work stories in the middle. Close with what you actually stand for. The whole thing lands in 90 seconds, give or take.
The basics of the picture. A locked-off camera, a sensible resolution, and a frame you've actually thought about will already put you ahead of most of the field.
Picture, sound, and what's behind you. Get any one of these badly wrong and the script can't save you.
Soft, natural light coming from in front of you. A window during the day is ideal. A desk lamp aimed at your face works too.
Never sit with a window or bright light behind you. The camera will give up and turn you into a silhouette.
Bad sound kills more videos than bad picture. Choose the quietest room in the house. Shut doors and windows. Put the phone on silent in another room.
If you have headphones with a mic, use them. Otherwise the phone's own mic is fine. Just get close enough.
Plain wall. Tidy bookshelf: anything that isn't an unmade bed, the kitchen mid-cook, or the back of your bathroom door.
Dress how you'd dress for the interview: same standard, same level of effort. No coffee stains on the collar.
The line between under-prepared and over-rehearsed is real: under, you fumble: over, you sound like a hostage video. The sweet spot is three takes.
Take one shakes the nerves out. Take two is usually the one with the best energy. Take three tightens whatever take two left loose. Past three you start losing the spark: if take five is better than take two, your script needs cutting, not your delivery.
One to two minutes total. Inside that window, you've left them curious; outside it, you've lost them. Ninety seconds is the figure to aim for. If the script runs long, cut a sentence, then another. Recruiters don't reward thoroughness in a video. They reward respect for their time.
Write the script. Read it aloud three times. Set the room, the light, the camera. Then close the script and tell the story straight to the lens. The point isn't to be perfect. The point is to be unmistakably you, in ninety seconds.
Start at the top.