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As I am nearing the end of my PhD program, I have started looking for jobs and recently sent in a handful of applications. Since I am no longer interested in pursuing an academic career, my search criteria entail the wide umbrella of Economist, Analyst and Data Scientist roles.

A couple of things have become immediately clear. Firstly, most, if not all, job postings on LinkedIn have hundreds of candidates who click on apply. Whether or not all of these candidates actually apply (once they are re-routed to an external page) is unclear but seeing a post from as recent as a day prior already stack up hundreds of prospective applications, is certainly discouraging. Is there such a wide gap between the demand and supply of jobs in these fields? Or is this LinkedIn’s clever way of trying to get me to sign up for premium?

Secondly, I cannot help but wonder if I am tossing my applications into the void. To keep track of my jobs, I create a spreadsheet with a dropdown that indicates the status of each application: moved to round 2, interview, accepted, rejected and non-response. Non-response is easily the biggest category so far. When you are expected to spend several hours curating the perfect application with tailored resumes and cover letters (along a personal note to the recruiter in the hopes that you will somehow stand out in the sea of applications), you would think there would be at least some sense of accountability on the recruiting end- an automated rejection even- but most employers do not bother extending that courtesy. Should potential candidates be looking into this career equivalence of ghosting as a sign of overwhelm, discomfort with handling difficult conversations or a plain lack of empathy? Do I even want to work for such an employer?

Which leads me to a rarer occasion in this process- a second round of assessment. Yesterday, I heard back from one of the jobs I had applied to in January. While it was certainly not a top choice, I was still grateful for the opportunity to move forward with the application. The follow-up email requested that I finish a 30-min technical questionnaire, that I quickly realized also consisted of elaborate behavioral and leadership questions. Here’s one such question for reference:

Describe a time you worked with a large, complex, or unstructured dataset. Please also address:

Main challenges faced
How you cleaned and validated the data
Tools or methods that you used
Outcome that you achieved

I started answering the questionaire with the tentative timeframe in mind, only to quickly realize that each question (of the 10 or so total) would take at least 15-20 minutes, if answered thoughtfully (read: not using AI). I finished over 3 hours later, past midnight, wondering if this gross misrepresentation would be limited to the recruitment process.

While I am still early in the search, and I refuse to let myself be discouraged by a few less-than-ideal scenarios, I am moving forward with more discernment regarding alignment between my own values and that of a potential employer. Not to mention, this process has fueled a greater sense of urgency within me to channel more of my time and energy into projects that I really care about- whether that is research, writing or any form of creative work.

After all, I can only spend so much time scrambling and unscrambling my resume, keyword-matching each job description, hoping it somehow makes it though the Application Tracking System (ATS), into the glorious labyrinth that is the second round of assessments.

One of the biggest regrets I have for my 20s is that I let fear lull me into a standstill.

Everywhere around me, I saw life speeding by me, and all I could see were missed deadlines and unfulfilled timelines. When I failed at school or my career, it further reinforced my belief that I had faltered one too many times to remain competitive in today’s market. When I saw other people’s accolades, it was painful reminder of how I had nothing to show for myself. Despite my multiple degrees, I had very little “real-world” experience, and while a part of me attributed it to my visa status or other woes, deep down I felt like I had underachieved my potential. I mean there were people who had overcome similar constraints as me, why couldn’t I do the same?

I remember one particular evening in 2020, just before my 25th birthday, as I strolled around the city at night, I truly felt like I had let life slip by me. Looking down the city river, I felt old- ancient even, like the river itself- life flowing by me with nothing to show for my years. Is this what the rest of life was going to feel like? Five years later today, I scoff at my younger self for feeling that way when I was barely 25, but I also know that the feeling of deficit that I had in that moment, was very real and all-consuming.

After years of trial and error, I have realized that one of the quickest way to feel stagnant and left behind is isolating yourself from the world. 2020 marked the beginning of what would be a long stretch of isolation for me (and many others). I was drowning in little problems that could easily be resolved, with a little help, but I was too terrified to ask for help and let others see my failure. So instead, I let my problems compound in isolation. At 25, it wasn’t my age that was making me feel old; it was my inability to connect with others and be vulnerable to their judgement. Had I let them judge me, I would have realized that I could survive and thrive despite their judgement. Or even better, that no one is putting that much thought into me to begin with. Yet, the fear of being found out kept me home and kept me from growing.

Whether in school, in career or in relationships, the more I withdrew in an attempt to protect myself, the less resilient I became. For example, the only way to get better at school was to ask questions- stupid questions even- that would others realize that I don’t really know what I am talking about. But there in lies that truth. Indeed, I did not know, and in not asking, I continued to not know. When we ask questions and express curiosity, we propel ourselves from rest into motion and this forward momentum is what breathes energy into our lives. Because, I shut myself to the world, my life was sorely lacking in momentum. No wonder I felt as old as the trees.

When we stop asking questions, when we retreat to our comfortable corners, we are essentially saying ‘no’ to life, to learning and to new experiences. In doing so, instead of assuming the role of an active participant, we become a bystander in our own lives. We do not put ourselves out there because we fear that we may not survive others critiquing us, but what we should be most afraid of, is our own judgement- the voice in our head, that grows louder and more relentless, the more we withdraw from the world.

When I turned 30, I decided that I am going to put myself out there, for the world to critique and pull apart, find cringeworthy or perhaps simply too mediocre to even be noticed. I may not win any accolades for it but at the very least, I would have the proof of my courage. I would have credibility with myself, which I now know outlasts any external validation I seek.

As I venture into my decade of public failure, here are two reminders I have for myself:

Sure, you could be an epic failure. Everyone would know what a loser you are, and that you are truly unworthy of anything good. So what? Will life stop there? You will continue on from one failure to the next, until something finally sticks. In fact, the public failure will set you free, from your own judgement.. Then you will have nothing to lose. Then you can begin.

You want to arrive on the stage fully prepared, looking stunning and ready to wow the crowd. But someone’s perfectly polished state is not inspirational- perhaps enviable to some and unfathomable to others. What is inspirational is your transformation- your movement from from wishing to willing.

dear diary,

job search: initial thoughts

on failing publicly