I haven’t had a rejection rate this bad since high school prom.
Thirty-nine job applications.
Zero offers.
Some have simply disappeared into the abyss.
Others have sent the familiar rejection email from an address I can’t reply to.
Probably wise.
I have questions.
One took me through three rounds of interviews, an hour each, before disappearing altogether.
Ghosted after three dates.
I thought we had something.
I’d already told my parents about her.
I’ve done all the things you’re supposed to do. Customized résumés. Cover letters. Networking. Personal introductions. Research. LinkedIn outreach. Follow-ups. Thank you notes.
At this point, I’m likely one rejection away from standing outside someone’s corporate headquarters every morning at 8:00 sharp, holding flowers and a handwritten sign that says:
I CAN START BY LUNCH.
Apparently, Human Resources has another name for this strategy.
The police do too.
So far, I’ve resisted.
But 0 for 40 changes a man.
It’s Not Just Me
It turns out I’m not uniquely terrible at this.
Greenhouse, a hiring platform used by thousands of companies, found that 61 percent of job seekers had been ghosted after an interview. Its own data also found that between 18 and 22 percent of jobs posted in any given quarter could be classified as “ghost jobs,” positions posted with no apparent intent to hire. [1]
More recently, Greenhouse found that nearly two-thirds of U.S. job seekers have encountered an AI interview. Among those who completed one, more than half never received an outcome. [2]
I feel better already.
The federal numbers offer some perspective too. In July, the average unemployed American had been looking for work for nearly 25 weeks. More than four in ten had been unemployed for at least 15 weeks. [3]
So, this isn’t simply my story.
There are a lot of talented people waking up every morning, opening their laptops, and trying again.
And that’s the part that interests me.
Trying again.
When Effort Doesn’t Equal Results
Something strange happens when you’re accustomed to producing results and suddenly find yourself in a situation where effort and outcome seem to have almost no relationship.
Most of my adult life has reinforced a straightforward equation:
Effort + Learning + Adjustment = Progress
Do it long enough, and progress produces results.
I’ve built things. Led teams. Won business. Lost business. Made good decisions. Made some bad ones. I’ve experienced enough success to know what it feels like, and enough failure to recognize that too.
Job searching has been different.
You can spend hours researching an opportunity, customizing your résumé, writing a thoughtful cover letter, finding someone inside the company, sending the right note, having a great conversation…
And hear nothing.
So, you adjust.
Improve the résumé. Rewrite the cover letter. Ask someone smarter than you to look at both. Network more. Follow up. Apply again.
Nothing.
Eventually, if you’re not careful, you can let the scoreboard start measuring something it was never designed to measure.
Your worth.
0 for 39 is a record.
It isn’t an identity.
That doesn’t mean you ignore the scoreboard. If you’ve struck out 39 times, you’d better consider whether you’re swinging at the wrong pitches.
When Experience Meets Filters
I’ve reconsidered the roles I’m pursuing, changed how I present my experience, asked people I trust for candid feedback, and explored opportunities I wouldn’t have considered a few months ago.
Apparently, Buc-ee’s has a Director of Brisket.
I’m keeping an open mind.
I’ve also come to understand something about my career that may be working against me.
My experience is unusually broad.
I’ve led businesses, built new ones, founded a few, managed teams, developed products, won partnerships, worked with founders, advised CEOs, served on boards, guided investments, and solved plenty of problems that didn’t fit neatly inside any one job description.
That breadth can be incredibly useful to a founder or CEO because their problems rarely stay in one lane. A growth problem becomes a people problem. A product decision affects a partnership. A new idea needs someone who can figure out how to make it happen.
I’ve spent most of my career moving between those lanes.
Hiring tends to work differently.
A company needs X, so it looks for someone who’s already been X, preferably in the same industry, doing roughly the same thing.
That’s harder when your career has been built around doing whatever the business needed most.
The irony isn’t lost on me.
The breadth that’s served me so well can make it harder to get through the filters and into the conversation.
Meanwhile, on Upwork…
I’ve also started looking for ways to make some money while the search continues.
That led me to Upwork.
I created a profile offering executive writing, strategy, and advisory work.
Apparently, there’s a thriving market for people seeking 20 years of executive experience, exceptional writing skills, deep business judgment, AI expertise, graphic design skills, advanced Excel proficiency, fluency in six software platforms, immediate availability, unlimited revisions, the ability to “make it go viral,” and possibly a kidney.
Budget: $10 an hour.
$15 with kidney.
I remain optimistic.
Get Up. Make Coffee. Try Again.
Gratitude doesn’t require pretending everything is easy. Optimism doesn’t require pretending there isn’t pressure.
Sometimes resilience is considerably less inspirational.
Get up. Make coffee. Open the laptop. Try again.
Eventually, all of us go through times when effort doesn’t seem to match the outcome.
You build a business and sales don’t come.
You pour yourself into a child who keeps making the wrong decisions.
You care for a parent whose health keeps declining.
You work on a relationship that isn’t getting better.
You write something nobody reads.
Is anyone reading this?
You pray about something that doesn’t change.
The hard part is separating the quality of your effort from the immediate outcome.
That doesn’t mean blindly doing the same thing forever.
Pay attention. Ask for feedback. Adjust. Learn.
But don’t ask the scoreboard to tell you more than it knows.
A rejection tells me I didn’t get the job.
It doesn’t tell me what I’m capable of.
Maybe 40 is the One
0 for 39 isn’t the record I was hoping for, but it’s hardly the whole story.
I’ve had a summer with my family I’ll always treasure. I’ve reconnected with old friends and made new ones. I’ve written more. I’ve prayed more. I’ve served more. And I’ve had time to think.
Which brings me to you, my friends.
I could use your help.
I’m looking for an opportunity to help build and lead a business, or work alongside a founder or CEO who needs an experienced partner to help turn ideas into action.
I’m at my best when there’s something important to build, grow, fix, or figure out, especially when it crosses the usual lines on an org chart.
I’m less concerned about the title and more interested in the people, the challenge, and where I can be most useful.
If someone came to mind while reading that, I’d be grateful for an introduction.
In the meantime, application number 40 awaits.
Surely, she’s the one.
Sources
- Greenhouse State of Job Hunting Report
- Greenhouse Candidate AI Interview Report
- Bureau of Labor Statistics
When Eternity Drew Near
I’m a lifelong student of American history and collector of the artifacts it left behind. To me, those objects tell stories: who held them, where they were found, what they survived, and what they can still teach us.
Keep Reading
Native American artifacts. Colonial America. The Revolutionary War. The War of 1812. The Civil War. The Spanish-American War. World Wars I and II. And plenty of interesting oddities in between.
I’ve collected and studied pieces from all of them, and I write about the history behind them at RelicRecord.com. My brother and I originally created RelicRecord as a software platform for digitally cataloging and preserving historical artifacts. Over time, it evolved into a history project where artifacts, research, and storytelling come together to explore the people and events behind them.
My latest article asks a much bigger question: What happens to faith when death is no longer an abstraction?
I explored that question through Civil War soldiers who carried their faith into camp and battle. Pocket Bibles. Battlefield prayer. Revival. Remarkable artifacts. Men preparing to die. And the uncomfortable reality of soldiers on both sides reading the same Bible, praying to the same God, and asking Him to defeat the men across the field praying the same prayer.
One Sock
Some mysteries stubbornly defy explanation.
What happened to Amelia Earhart?
Who was Jack the Ripper?
What became of the Lost Colony of Roanoke?
I have another.
Keep Reading
Where are all the socks?
Not pairs of socks.
Just one.
Nobody puts twelve pairs of socks into the laundry and gets back ten pairs.
You get eleven pairs and one sock.
Always one.
Somewhere between the hamper and the dresser, its partner vanishes without a trace.
No witnesses.
No remains.
No ransom demand.
Just one grieving sock lying on the laundry-room counter for six months, crumpled in on itself, waiting for a partner everyone else in the family knows isn’t coming home.
Nobody has the heart to tell it.
No one has the courage to throw it away.
We have searched.
Behind dressers. Under beds. Inside fitted sheets. Between couch cushions. Behind the washer. Behind the dryer.
We’ve had the dryer vent and ductwork cleaned.
Nothing.
I’ve questioned the children.
They deny everything.
The housekeepers.
The dogs.
The cats.
Especially the cats.
Cats cannot be trusted.
Nothing.
The mounting pile of socks and questions began taking a toll on the family.
Accusations were made.
Things were said.
Neighbors started talking.
They stopped waving.
PTA moms started a GroupMe without us.
Someone wrote SOCK KILLER on my wife’s coffee cup.
The kids started using their mother’s maiden name at school.
And still, every few weeks, another one disappears.
No pattern.
No motive.
Just another cold case added to the pile.
I’ve spent years believing there must be an answer.
I’m beginning to accept there may not be.
Some mysteries aren’t ours to solve.
Jimmy Hoffa.
D. B. Cooper.
The other sock.
Maybe one day we’ll know.
Until then, the cases remain open.
Every so often, I reopen one.
Check under a bed.
Question a child.
Look at the cat.
The cat knows something.
I’m sure of it.
Until next time…
Be kind.
Call someone you’ve been thinking about lately.
Leave a comment