Yelling Into The Void

When my last contract was nearing its end, I did what any reasonably self-aware, strategic professional with a bit of foresight would do: I updated my resume, prepared to build momentum with my job search, and hit the ground running.

I wasn’t naïve — I knew hiring cycles could be slow, especially around the holidays. Even so, I figured I’d be okay. I’m adaptable, I’m experienced, I’ve led teams, shipped products, and built systems. Surely, with a thoughtful approach and a few months of persistence, I’d find the right opportunity.

I didn’t expect it to be easy — but I also didn’t expect it to feel like shouting into the void for six months straight.

This is the story of what happened instead — and what I think it reveals about the state of modern hiring.

Phase 1: The LinkedIn Auto-Apply Era

I started my job hunt the way I had every other time: with LinkedIn’s Easy Apply button and a spreadsheet. I burned through dozens of listings in the first couple weeks — low-effort, low-connection, high-volume applications. It felt productive. Technically, it was productive. I was “doing the work.”

I was prepared for low feedback. I’d heard LinkedIn was losing effectiveness — not necessarily due to a failure of the platform itself, but because its ease of use had led to skyrocketing competition, a rise in “ghost jobs,” and even data-gathering honeypots. Every job I’d found since 2012 had ultimately come through LinkedIn — if it worked before, surely it still worked now.

What I wasn’t prepared for was silence. No callbacks, no rejections, no signal. The more I applied, the more I realized I was just adding to the noise. I wasn’t searching — I was screaming into the void.

Phase 2: The Company Portal Pivot

After watching my Easy Apply efforts evaporate into the algorithmic ether, I changed tack. I started applying only through official company portals. It was far less efficient — now I had to scan several dozen sites instead of just one — but I hoped that going directly to the source would improve both visibility and seriousness.

In theory, it made sense. Since each additional company required a greater time investment, I became more deliberate. I spent more time researching companies before adding them to my watchlist. I tailored my documents more. I reconfigured my tracking sheet to monitor companies in addition to roles. I bookmarked everything. I even appreciated the rare moments when an application portal had a usable interface.

But despite all of this, the outcomes stayed the same. Even with more care and intention, I got ghosted. No feedback, no next steps. It felt like playing an escape room with no clues — and no way to know if I was even solving the right puzzle.

Phase 3: The Systemization Phase

At this point, something snapped — but in a constructive way. If the job search wasn’t going to provide structure, I would.

One thing that had always frustrated me was the lack of tooling for job seekers. I had historically used an Excel spreadsheet to track applications, but I’d been unhappy with its limitations for a while.

So I built my own Notion-based Job Search OS. It didn’t just track applications — it tracked my company watchlist, contacts, a task list, a Kanban board. I included a full documents library so I could reference every customized resume, cover letter, positioning statement, and everything else I’d written. And like any good product manager-slash-software architect, I documented the whole thing and added an internal feature request system too.

Then I rewrote my resume system from scratch. I’d always customized resumes, but manipulating a base DOCX was tedious. So I built a YAML-based template system, with a skills pool and a document renderer that let me tailor each version with precision. Every resume became a pitch. Every cover letter reflected real research. I started treating the job search like product strategy.

And yet… results continued to lag.

I’m proud of the systems I built. They reflect my values: intentionality, clarity, adaptability. But it’s become increasingly clear that the hiring ecosystem isn’t optimized to even see that kind of signal, much less reward it.

Phase 4: From Outbound to Inbound

So I went upstream. I launched a blog. I began writing long-form reflections on product thinking, decision-making, and systems design. I published short-form insights on LinkedIn to spark conversation. I started treating myself like a product — not to market, but to clarify.

I’ve started to see some movement. More people are engaging. I’m getting thoughtful responses. New connections. Increased visibility. For the first time, I feel like my work is being seen. And honestly, just having a platform has made me feel better about it — even if I’m still shouting into the void, it’s my void now.

But even then: no interviews. No offers. No clear signs of progress.

You can do everything right — and still get nothing back.

The System is Broken

At some point, we collectively accepted that the hiring process could be slow, opaque, and transactional — and we normalized it. But the truth is: the tooling is broken. Not just inefficient — hostile.

• Applicant Tracking Systems (ATSs) are black boxes. They hide more than they reveal.
• Silence is considered acceptable UX.
• There’s no platform-agnostic way for candidates to manage their search meaningfully.
• And all our effort with AI has focused on the employer’s side — optimizing for filtering, not connection.

I had to build my own tools because the existing ones weren’t built for me — the candidate — at all.

The Emotional Cost

Here’s the part that’s hardest to talk about.

This whole time — while writing, applying, iterating — I’ve done everything I should. I haven’t just repeated the same strategy; I’ve examined and adjusted course every few weeks. Every system I built, every article I published, every message I sent was part of a thoughtful, intentional plan.

And yet, I’m still here. Still searching. Still looking. Still hoping.

I’m not burned out. I’m not giving up. But I am tired — not from the work, but from the disconnect between effort and outcome.

What Comes Next

I don’t have a happy ending to offer. Not yet.

But I do have a clearer understanding of what I value — and what I’m capable of. I know the systems I’ve built are strong. I know the voice I’ve found is real. I know this process, for all its frustration and annoyance, has sharpened me.

And I know I’m not alone.

So if you’re reading this and nodding along — if you’re somewhere in the same maze — keep going. Keep building. Keep questioning.

Because even if the system is broken, we’re not.