HIRING: Your Identity
You’re a writer. You were in healthcare IT, but now you’re a writer.
You were in healthcare IT.
“What do you do for work?”
“I work in the healthcare tech industry. It’s my job to xyz…”
“Whoa, that’s way above my head. You must be smart.” They shake their head.
You roll your eyes playfully and brush them off, but secretly, you feel proud.
You’re now a writer.
“What do you do for work?”
You hesitate. “I’m a writer.” You quickly add, “I just graduated with my master’s in professional creative writing. I’ll be looking for a job soon.” Your smile hides your lie. You’ve been looking for a job for months.
“Oh, cool.”
Shame washes over you.
You applied for twenty Content Writer jobs/internships last week. You made sure your resume pulled in at least a few key words from each job application. You poured your heart and soul into each cover letter. This week, you got a few e-mails.
Hello,
We regret to inform you that you have not been selected…
Hello,
We have decided to move forward with another applicant…
Hello,
We did not accept your application at this time. However, we encourage you to look at our other open positions…
Hello,
Your application was not accepted to move forward. However, we’ll keep your resume on file…
A month goes by, you don’t hear from the others, not that you expected to. You applied for more, but you assume you won’t hear from them either. Oh well, keep going.
A big blue square with the letters “in” takes up a tab of your browser blinking with (3) new notifications, (1) new message.
You appeared in 10 searches this week
Your Job Alert for content writer in United States: VIEW 3 JOBS
[colleague you haven’t spoken to in years] viewed your profile.
You click on the second and ensure it’s filtered [Experience level: Internship, Entry level].
Job 1: Korean English Translator
You don’t speak Korean.
Job 2: Copy Editor
“At least five years experience of copy editing required.”
Job 3: Content Writer
“See how you compare to the 330 other applicants with LinkedIn Premium.”
You bite your cheek and click on your messages.
Hello,
I hope you are doing well! I was really impressed with your background and would love to connect. I wanted to reach out to you about an IT Project Manager position with…
Delete. Back to Home. Scroll.
“I’m excited to announce…”
“I’m thrilled to announce…”
“I’m happy to share…”
“People always ask me as a manager…”
“I’m incredibly grateful to work at this amazing company…”
“Things recruiters need to do differently:…”
You sigh.
You search for the profiles of your undergraduate school and your graduate school. Click the “Alumni” tab. Filter the results on anyone in the writing/publishing/editor industry. Save the profiles of those in which you have mutual connections. Filter the results again, this time with anyone who has “writer,” “editor,” or “publisher” in their job description. Look at mutual connections. Save the profiles.
You spend some time stalking each profile. You learn where they work, you analyze their job history, and try to make sense of how they got there. Is the mutual connection someone you can reach out to? Yes. Generally, they are. Never burn bridges… unless the person is an asshole. You don’t take handouts from assholes.
You carefully craft your message to your first connection:
Hi! How are you? It’s been a while. I hope things are going well with you at [insert place of work]. [Remind person how you know each other, perhaps provide a fond memory]. I see you have a connection with [this person that has a job you want]. I just got my Master’s, and… [sound impressive and curious, not desperate]. If you’d feel comfortable, would you mind introducing me to [mutual connection]? I would love to ask them questions on how they got to where they are.
Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.
You do care about this person. That is a fact. You did have a connection with them at some point in the past. That is also a fact. You do hope they’re doing well, but they’re not in your life. All facts. You know that. They know that. They don’t want you in their life anyway. They have their own life. They know you’re using them right now, and they’re okay with it. They’re happy to help. You’d let them use you too. The only difference is, you wouldn’t care if someone messaged you exactly what they’re thinking. “Hi, I’m trying to find a job, and I see you are connected to [person]. Could you please introduce me to them, so I can ask for advice or ideally, see if their company is hiring?” But that’s not the way the business world in the USA works. You have to beat around the bush because it sounds polite. It’s fake. Maybe some people wouldn’t mind the directness, but there’s no way for you to know. You’d shut that door if you were direct and they didn’t like it.
You receive a response from the connection a couple of days later. They are, of course, very nice about it. They say the person says they will talk to you and provides you with their contact information. You say, “thank you, I really appreciate it.” You mean it.
You draft an e-mail to your new connection with the same bullshit. You want to say: “Hey, I want a job that’s similar to what you have. Is your company hiring? If not, how can I get a job that you have somewhere else? Please, tell me your experience with this industry.”
But instead, you say:
Hi [person who has the job I want],
I asked our mutual connection to introduce us [however many days ago.] I recently switched industries from IT to writing. [Provide information on your background. Try to sound somewhat impressive.] I’ve been looking through my network for connections with anyone who is doing what I’d like to do in order to get some advice, and you were one of the few [smiley face] (saying they’re one of the few makes you sound less desperate than saying you were one of the twenty). If you have a few minutes, I’d be really grateful for any advice. What led you to your current position? Do you have any advice for getting a foot in the door in the writing industry?
Signoff. Send. Hope they say their company is hiring and you can use them as a reference. Repeat with the other connections.
You hear back from a few. Some say their company is hiring and that they’ll put in a good word for you. You apply, but you never hear back. The rest say the job fell into their lap, as it always seems to.
You go to your Gmail and see you have an update from Indeed.
Hi,
We think you would be a great match for the Theatre Manager opportunity based on your profile…
Your eyebrows furrow. You stare skeptically at the e-mail. You don’t know what your background in tech and your writing degree makes you a good fit for this position. You shake your head and pull up Indeed anyway. Scroll… scroll… scroll. You see a retail job at a bridal salon you visited and loved during your time as a bride. You like wedding dresses and know a lot about them. It’s not your main passion, but it’s definitely an interest. Maybe you can work there to earn some money while you write. You pull up your resume, change a word choice here and there, tailoring it to the job description. You copy your cover letter template. You start typing about how your previous work experience in IT can translate to a job as a bridal consultant, about how you have a particular love for that bridal salon, and about how your sister also found her wedding dress there. Connections. Connections. Connections. That’s what matters most of the time, so you’re told. Appeal to them.
Three days goes by. An e-mail pops up with the subject line: Application for Bridal Consultant. You click on it.
Unfortunately, [bridal salon] has moved to the next step in their hiring process, and your application was not selected at this time.
You can’t say you’re surprised at this point. At least they responded.
In midst of your internet wandering, you end up on your old company’s website. You click on “Careers.” You start scrolling. You recognize the wording in each job description preview. You recognize the hiring manager names that are listed. It’s familiar. You stumble across a “Technical Writer” position. Your cursor hovers over the “Apply” button for a moment before clicking it. A sinking feeling slides into your stomach, but you move forward with the application. Your old manager gave her permission to use her as a reference when you left the company. She’s still at the company. You reach out to her to give her a heads-up about the job you applied for. You rest your chin in your hands and sit there in silence as you stare at the company’s logo in the header of the website.
A day later, you go back to the job list on your old company’s website. You notice the Technical Writer position is no longer listed. That’s not a good sign. Two weeks later, you get a response. They have “decided to go with another applicant.” You have a hunch that the position was filled by the time you applied but figured at this rate, even if it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have gotten it anyway. Part of you feels relieved, the other, panicked. You’re not a writer. You’re just a sad story: Successful healthcare IT professional with a bright future throws the last seven years away for a chance to be happier in a different field.
Your eyes well with tears that never fall. You quickly become numb. The tears drain back into your eyes. You’re not a writer. You find yourself back on your company’s old website, scrolling through the job list and looking at jobs not related to writing. You consider each one. You’re not a writer. Just as you’re about to click “Apply” on a job that you think you’d be qualified for, you exit out of the browser instead. You can’t do it.
You don’t want to go backwards. Your time there was great, but the idea of going back… logging onto that Dell laptop, hearing the Microsoft Teams message tones and ringtones… it fills you with dread. The people there were great, but the idea of hearing “Welcome back,” making polite small talk before the 4:30pm meeting actually starts, having to explain to someone how to work a word document, explaining why a process isn’t optimal if it makes people waste hours doing something manually that software could do instantaneously… all of it fills you with dread.
You don’t want to go back. Only forward.
Remind yourself. You’re already a writer… hopefully. Move forward. Be a writer and… whatever job ends up falling in your lap. You type LinkedIn in your navigation bar and hit the return key. Keep going.
You’re a writer.
