Two years of applications. Hundreds of cover letters. Countless interviews. And in the end, I found out I didn't get the job from a Facebook post.
Let me back up.
I'd been on the market since early 2024, grinding through an average of 25 applications a week while simultaneously finishing a master's degree in clinical mental health counseling. Online classes meant I could hold down a 9-to-5 and do coursework at night and on weekends. I'd done the math. It worked. What didn't work, apparently, was convincing employers of that.
Late last year, a local nonprofit posted a communications and event manager role. I applied. They called. Then they brought me in — once in December, once in January. Five hours of interviews across three rounds. Five people. A role I was genuinely qualified for, at an organization I actually believed in.
I did everything right. Iowa State beat that into me: always send a thank-you note. I emailed all five interviewers the same day. A few wrote back. It felt warm. It felt promising.
Then came the silence.
After a week, I followed up. Still deciding, they said. Two more weeks passed. Nothing. So I did what any communications professional would do — I checked where they were most active online. Their Facebook page.
There it was. A cheerful announcement post. A photo of their new hire. No phone call to me. No email. Nothing.
I sat with it for a minute. Checked that I had the right page. Checked my inbox again. I had not missed anything. They simply never told me.
Here's my thing: if candidates are expected to send thank-you notes — and we absolutely are — then employers owe us the basic courtesy of a rejection. That's not entitlement. That's reciprocity.
So I wrote to all five of them. I told them I'd learned about the decision through social media. I told them the communication gap was disappointing and that it made it hard to assess the organization in good faith. I kept it professional. I kept it direct. Two of their leaders responded with apologies and a promise to do better.
Will they? I don't know. But at least they heard it.
I'm in communications. Hard conversations are part of the job. If I believe something needs to be said and I have the platform to say it, I'm going to say it. That's not bold — that's just consistent.
What I'm done with is the search itself. I graduate in May. After that, I'm moving into private practice as a counselor, building toward the supervised hours I need to go independent. I'm also flipping a house and launching a cleaning business designed to employ domestic abuse survivors at a living wage.
I have high-functioning ADHD. I don't do idle. I wear a lot of hats because standing still isn't something I know how to do.
Most people swallow this kind of experience. They chalk it up to how things are and move on quietly. I understand that instinct — but I don't share it. Using your voice isn't unprofessional. Sometimes it's the most professional thing you can do.