Girl Ghosted By Recruiter (Again) Experiences Dèjá Vu From Past Failed Dating Attempts— Fears LinkedIn And LA Dating Scene Are Twins

This is the thing I’ve had to learn (the hard way) about the job search: you cannot, under any circumstances, get your hopes up. Nothing lands until it finally does.

In this seemingly endless process of automated application confirmations, automated rejections, and 5+ person panel interviews that leave you truly believing you have it in the bag only for the bag to break in 24 hours, you must remain optimistic. Confident. Determined as ever— but still, don’t you dare get your hopes up. At the same time, you also can’t get discouraged, can’t get disillusioned. Loose emphasis on the word can’t because let’s face it: you will. It just happens with each rejection. Despite having received so many that you feel you probably should be used to them by now, you never will be. The more rejections you get, the more the self-doubt. The more self-loathing.

But in this chaotic, tiresome cycle, there is one thing that will leave you more frustrated than any rejection email you could ever receive: getting ghosted by a recruiter who reached out to you first.

If there are any recruiters reading this, before I dive in, I want to firmly state: this is in no way shade towards any of you and what you guys do at all. In fact, I have had many positive experiences with recruiters in my now seven years in the advertising industry. I have stayed in mutual contact with a little more than half of them. I have built a strong connection with the kindest, most dedicated ones who take their job so seriously I almost want to tell them that it’s okay to take a break! Ones that check in on me rather frequently, pass along every role they have to my email and DM’s, repost and share my pleas for a job, tag me in posts from creatives looking for copywriters, and even put me in touch with other recruiters who are just as passionate as they are themselves.

Although I didn’t receive every offer (not even a double-digit percentage of them, actually), I still harbor tremendous gratitude for the recruiters who have walked with me through the dumpster-fire that is the job search. The ones that stayed with me till the very end— even when it often ended in an: “Unfortunately, the team has decided to move forward with another candidate”. The ones who stayed with me even after that. The ones who have sent me a LinkedIn message after thoroughly combing through my portfolio and resume, who were eager and delighted to hop on a call with me. The ones who made good on their word to follow up and stay in touch, which is a is a mutual effort on both of our parts. The ones who express their empathy for how difficult it has been. The ones who offer encouragement. The ones who say, “Even if you’re not the right fit for this role, you’re definitely the right fit for others” and never miss an opportunity to connect me to the next role. The ones whose passion for what they do can be felt through the phone or screen during an initial Zoom or Google Meet.

I know that being a recruiter can’t be easy: you get hundreds of applications a day. Countless LinkedIn DM’s and emails every second. Your phone is constantly ringing and buzzing off the hook. Your notifications are in shambles. I don’t know what it’s like to be you, but I do know what it’s like to be swamped. To be inundated with task after task. So believe me when I say I get it, even if I’m on the other side of things.

Be that as it may, I’d be remiss if I didn’t talk about the repeated ghosting, which I do not think is malicious or intentional. But most of us on the job hunt have unwillingly grown accustomed to it and yet, still find ourselves shocked and irritated when it happens again. And again. It’s like, “What gives?”. Why does this happen so frequently to so many of us? What is in the air? What is going on?

Like I said before I get being swamped. I know that feeling all too well. I don’t think there’s a single person, whether in this industry or not, who doesn’t: it’s mental and it’s emotional. I get it. We all get it. But the ghosting on our end of things is mental and emotional as well, albeit for a totally different reason. Allow me to elaborate with a scenario that I’m sure many of us have related to at some point:

You’re at the bar with your friends in an outfit you feel and look good in. You’re enjoying your favorite cocktail (or mocktail) of choice, engaging in a fun, loud conversation with your friends while the DJ plays a mix of songs that make you want to ask for their playlist. As you scan the room, you lock eyes with someone. You turn back to your friends; and when you turn back in that someone’s direction again, you notice they haven’t taken their eyes off you. Next thing you know they approach you. You move to the side, find a couch or barstool to sit on and talk. You hit it off instantly. The conversation lasts for what feels like hours. You exchange numbers and they (emphasis on they— remember that word for later!) happily tell you they want to see you again real soon. You eagerly agree. You go home excited. You stay up late texting back and forth. Their responses are just as fast as yours. Over the next few days, it’s a series of endless texts, phone calls, and FaceTimes. Memes shared via Instagram DM’s. Spam liking each other’s pictures. Replying to each other’s IG story. It goes on for days. It could go on forever— until it suddenly stops as soon as you mention seeing each other.

Now they’re texting less. You’re getting left on delivered. Your phone calls and FaceTimes go unanswered. They haven’t sent you an Instagram meme in forever— and the ones you send get left on seen. When they do finally respond, they tell you they’ve been busy but still want to see you. They promise to let you know what day will work— and then the following days are filled with radio silence. You text them and ask if they still want to get together. You even try to start a new conversation and continuously tie it back to how excited you are to finally see each other again. But their responses are sparse. An ‘LOL’ here, a laugh emoji there. An emphasis reaction to your last text and nothing more. And then it hits you: you’re having a conversation with yourself. You’ve been having a conversation with yourself for a while now. You send one last text, one last ‘hail Mary’ asking if they still want to see you. It goes unanswered. It’s the last text you send.

What did you do wrong? Were you too pushy? Too eager? Did they realize something about you, something you don’t even realize about yourself, that took them from excitement to total avoidance? You hit it off at the bar after they approached you. They brought up wanting to see you again soon. They asked for your number. Your conversations over text, the phone, and FaceTime were filled with laughs, smiles, and what you thought was a genuine connection. The memes you sent back and forth were actually funny to you both. So what changed? What caused the abrupt, tectonic shift?

You don’t know what changed. You don’t know ‘the why’ and you wrack your brain to figure it out. They’re not going to text you back and by this point, you feel ridiculous even wanting them to. For wanting to ask the simple question: “Did I do something wrong?”— but you can’t help it. Something good was on the horizon. Something promising. Something that made you smile. Something to look forward to. It was near, within grasp. Then it disappeared as fast as it appeared. You see that they’re active Instagram, but they haven’t watched your story in a while. You’ve been checking for their username in your views every few minutes. They’re not watching your story anymore—but they’re actively posting on theirs.

Now you’re in the cycle of wondering and even feeling embarrassed. You talked about it to your friends. It was all you talked about to your friends. They were excited for you. You were excited for you. And now after all that, there’s nothing. You feel even more ridiculous for still hoping you’ll hear from them, even though the silence has gone on for so long it’s become uncomfortable. It’s become uncomfortable to even look at your text thread with them, to see nothing but blue messages and zero gray ones. Every time your phone buzzes you feel a rush of excitement, only to be immediately replaced by utter disappointment when you see it’s not them. When you see it’s actually just DoorDash texting you that your order is on the way. Yay for a 10pc Nugget Meal and a large vanilla shake from McDonalds. Nay for having to come to terms with the fact that you have officially been ghosted.

—End scene—

Although different circumstances, different players, and different stakes, it’s the same game. The same moves. The same dance, the same beat— and it creates the same exact feelings. Not convinced just yet? Keep reading.

After immediately accepting a new connection request from a recruiter, you almost instantly receive a DM from them with the perfect role you’ve been longing for, at a place you’ve been dreaming to work, with an attractive salary attached. You’re beyond excited to hop on a call with them to discuss the role, your experience, your availability (I always shamelessly say: “I can clock in right now” because given my current employment status, I can). You’re even more excited when the recruiter asks to call you right then and there. You think, wow! They really want me. You answer the call on the first ring and exchange pleasantries and even a few laughs before getting right down to business.

They’ve seen your portfolio and resume tell you that they’re impressed. They tell you that they ‘just had to reach out to you’ because ‘you have exactly what the team is looking for’. You walk them through your career thus far, highlighting the brands and projects you’ve worked on that would make you the perfect candidate. The recruiter gives you more details and once again tells you that you are perfect for the role. That they love your energy, love your attitude. They can’t see your face but it’s plastered with a smile that’s making your cheeks hurt. It’s finally happening! This is the role for you. They’re going to see it through with you. You know it. And the recruiter repeatedly assures you that they know it, too.

As the call wraps, they tell you that they’re passing you along to the hiring team and will get you on the books for a call with the hiring manager. They tell you they are so excited for you, that they think the team is really going to love you. That because you have exactly what they’re looking for, because you’re ready to start, like, yesterday, they can’t imagine them picking anyone else. They tell you they’re sending you an email right now with a more detailed description of the role. To be on the lookout for an invite for a chat with the hiring manager within the next day or two. They tell you that they ‘really want to get you in’.

You end the call feeling hopeful. Confident. Encouraged. Determined. Deserving. Ready. You even begin to imagine your first day on the job— what the office looks like (if the role is hybrid-full on-site). What you’ll wear. Where you’ll sit. What your first assignment will be. What it’s going to be like working there. What it’s going to feel like working there. You send a thank-you note to their email for expressing their interest and hopping on a call with you, because you are thankful. You’re overjoyed. It’s finally happening— or so you thought.

You never get that follow up email that they said they were sending you on the call. But then again, the call did just end 15 minutes ago. Yeah they said they were sending it right at that moment, but they surely got caught up. They more than likely had another call right after yours, and then another, some back-to-back, high priority meetings. No harm, no foul. After all, they have a job. They have things to do. Now it’s nearing end of day and while you still haven’t received that coveted follow up email, it’s okay. No need to panic. The recruiter was just as enthused and eager as you. You’ll get the email it in the morning. You’re positive you will.

But you don’t get the email in the morning. You don’t get it in the afternoon. And around 4:30pm, you’re sure you won’t be getting it at all that day. Oh well, there’s always tomorrow, right? But then tomorrow comes, and nothing along with it. There’s still no sight of that promised email. Maybe it went to your spam folder but when you check there, it’s coupons and foreign diplomats telling you that there’s a check for $3,000,000 with your name on it.

So you send your own follow up email. A check-in of some sort. You restate how great your chat went, once again express your excitement about the role, and casually mention that you still haven’t received their email. You tell them no rush because you don’t want to be pushy. You know they’re busy. You even reattach your resume for good measure. You don’t expect them to get back to you right away— but what you also don’t expect is for them to never get back to you at all.

Now your pragmatism kicks in: you don’t want to be annoying. You don’t want to spam their inbox or LinkedIn DM’s. So, you wait about 2 days before you circle back yet again. You quadruple check that you have the right address. You sort of hope you don’t have the right address, because at least that means they haven’t received anything from you yet and are more than likely trying to reach you. You remind them once again that you have not received their follow up email, but you are still really excited about meeting with the hiring manager. You even give them your availability for the rest of the week, and even the following. You decide there’s nothing you can do but wait it out or rather, sweat it out. Because in this moment, you’re starting to realize that that email might never come.

Days go by. Weeks, even. Now, you’ve settled with the reality: you got ghosted and you cannot understand why. You can’t understand what went wrong. You had an amazing conversation with them. They loved your work and resume. They said you were perfect for the role. They loved your attitude. They loved your energy. They didn’t say they would see if the hiring manager wanted to meet with you— they said they were sending you an invite to do so. They gave you all the affirmations that assured you that you would be seeing the next steps. All for you to never see those steps at all. All for them to never speak to you again.

Maybe you weren’t as good of a fit for the role as the recruiter repeatedly affirmed. Maybe the hiring team had a different candidate in mind from the start and chose to prioritize them. Or maybe the team is so far along in the hiring process that they aren’t considering any more candidates. All of those scenarios are fine. You can’t be perfect for every job you go for and realistically, you won’t be perfect for more than half of them. That’s okay. It’s not the end of the world. It’s not the recruiter’s fault you weren’t a good fit. It’s not even your fault, even though you will feel like it is: I wasn’t enough. My work didn’t impress them. I’m not as good at my profession as I thought I was. You’re going to think those things and it’s okay to do so. It’s almost impossible not to, especially if you’ve been on the job hunt for longer than you expected to be. For longer than anyone would expect to be.

But in this particular case, it’s not about the above at all— it’s about the ghosting. The radio silence. The disappearance all but without a trace. It’s the promise of a follow up that never came. It’s the promise of staying in touch that was never fulfilled. It’s the feeling you got during that initial call, that feeling of hope and optimism, that you now feel foolish for having. You now feel ridiculous for sending multiple follow up emails and messages of your own to remind them: “Hey! I’m still waiting on that email and invite you mentioned”. You feel embarrassed, too. You got your hopes up, all for them to dissipate so quickly.

Suddenly you wish you hadn’t been so eager. You wish you ‘played it cool’. You wish you scaled back your excitement because now, you feel as if you came off desperate. Maybe even the recruiter thought you were desperate. Maybe they ended the call with an eye roll and went back to their day. Maybe they didn’t actually like you at all and the affirmations and pleasantries were just a formality. Maybe they didn’t even bother passing anything along to the hiring manager. Maybe they didn’t even tell the hiring manager they spoke to you. Maybe your resume is at the bottom of the trash can under their desk.

—End scene (I swear that was the last one. You definitely get the point by now)—

These are all things you wonder after you’ve been ghosted by a recruiter. While nobody likes rejection, it’s better to receive it explicitly, than to spend x amount of days, weeks, or even months wondering what happened. At least I believe it’s better. Better than trying to find ‘the why’. Better than internalizing and interpreting the silence as a sign that you weren’t worth pursuing further. Better than creating dozens of scenarios in your head to give you a ‘reason’.

If a hiring manager doesn’t think I’m a good fit, that’s completely fine. I know I’ll be a good fit somewhere else, and I will always remain gracious for even being considered. If the role has been filled, that’s cool, too. Congratulations to the person they selected (and I mean that genuinely, because there’s nothing better than landing a role you know you’re going to do well in). If the team liked my work but I lacked experience in a critical area and it was ultimately the dealbreaker, that’s understandable. I can live with that. I am constantly working on my craft, constantly learning, constantly striving to be better. But I need to be informed of those things— and that all begins and ends with the recruiter who reached out to me.

If you say you’re going to follow up with me, please (pretty please) actually do so. Don’t leave me spiraling in the dark wondering and waiting, waiting and wondering. I don’t need a long ‘Dear John’ letter. A quick email is fine. A DM is fine. A call is fine. A text is fine. Sending any form of communication that tells me what happened, however short it is, is fine. It’s welcomed. It’s appreciated.

I don’t have to be a recruiter to know that it is not easy to get back to everyone. It is an immense task. It’s probably near impossible. After all, they are the first step in the hiring process. It all starts with them. They are essential and their job requires some serious heavy lifting. They have so many applications to open, so many resumes and portfolios to sift through, so many calls to make, so many meetings with potential candidates and hiring managers and creative teams. I know it’s not easy. It’s time consuming, it’s exhausting. At times I’d assume it’s even tedious. It’s a job that requires laser focused detail and tremendous effort. I get all of those things. I understand all of those things. It’s why I always send a thank-you, always express my gratitude: because they are the cog that keeps the machine running, but they are also people. People with an astronomical duty that is never ending, that is never fully complete.

I am also too familiar with the act of being ghosted by recruiters. And even with all the above considering, I’d be lying if I said it isn’t frustrating. That it isn’t confusing. That it isn’t upsetting. I know I’m not the only one who feels the same way, either. Being left to wonder what happened between the end of a call that went really well, and the moment where you realized you’ll never speak to them again, is a storm. It is especially so when they verbally confirmed that you’d made it to the next round. Even in the midst of their deafening silence, you still hold a sliver of hope, despite knowing it’s futile.

That recruiter is gone. That recruiter is done with you— because they are still actively posting roles on LinkedIn. Their activity status shows they are online multiple times per day. Why bother sending another message? They saw the many others you sent. At that point, sending another just makes you a pest. At that point, it’s time to give up…on that recruiter. On that opportunity.

They brought you to the verge of a promising precipice, only to leave you hanging aimlessly with your arms and legs flailing like a mad man. They brought you to the waiting room, only to never come back to get you. They brought you to the gate, only to never let you board. There’s nothing you can do beyond that point. You did your due diligence. You tried everything. It just is what it is.

Ironically though, there is a silver lining: your work was good enough for someone to reach out. To reach out to you first. And even if they never followed up as promised, it was still your work that brought them to you. Your craft that got you that connection request. That LinkedIn DM. That phone call that unfortunately led nowhere. While perspective is subjective, if they took an interest in you for a role of that caliber, there’s no way no one else will. At least you are able to say that, even if you don’t feel like saying it at the moment.

As frustrating as it definitely is, I hold no animosity towards any of the recruiters who’ve ghosted me. I’m thankful for their time and I truly mean that. I’m thankful for their interest. Thankful that they gave me some sort of hope despite it being fleeting. Even in my disappointment, I can walk away knowing that I will still do well, because someone at least thought of me. Someone believed I could, even if they pulled a Casper right when I thought things were about to get good. And even though it sucks, one Irish goodbye from a recruiter, or several—or a person who saw you at the bar before you saw them— doesn’t stop the show.