Hi, I’m Holly, and I’m a recovering #girlboss.
I was born in 1990 and easily formed 50% of my entire personality in the early 2000s, worshipping Lizzie McGuire, another 30% in the mid-00s when multiple teachers told me my Power of the Pen stories were hilarious, before they dinged them for “too many pop culture references.” The final 20% formed in journalism school, where at least 3 of my top 10 best life things happened: successfully “climbing the ladder” to become editor-in-chief of an online magazine, interviewing for an internship at Entertainment Weekly, and when Mindy Kaling liked my tweet about BJ Novak.
So, basically, by the time I entered the work force in 2013, I was ready for takeover, I mean takeoff.
And, LOL, this is the part where my cartoon alter ego falls off a cliff or something, but—the real work world is not for the faint of heart. No. Oh no. (Oh no no no no no.) It is BAD out there, baby boss babes. It can be AWFUL, you poor innocent recent graduates of the E.W. Scripps School of Journalism.
No, really. Go to grad school, if only to delay the PAIN.
Because, I mean, no one, not one single guest speaker in any elective class, tells you that the chances of you, a creative-minded human, finding a creative-minded job that you can love with all your creative-minded soul is less likely to happen than Ohio University becoming a DRY CAMPUS.
HAHAHA, this is the part where my cartoon alter ego drowns herself in a glass of Barefoot Moscato.
Luckily for anyone else also falling victim to “Quit your job” TikTok, I am a well-rounded, could-be-more-traveled, level-headed-on-a-good-day 31 years old now and having been in the workforce for almost a decade, I have seen some shit.
And I have also, you know, come to terms with the fact that my girl gang-idolizing youth was a little misguided, and that, ugh, CAPITALISM and double ugh, WHITE FEMINISM. Turns out we all have to do what we gotta do, for ourselves, and not just to impress men when we shatter their glass ceiling.
If that’s grinding yourself into the ground for a lowly job at a big shiny place? You do you, boo.
If that’s just clocking in, out, in, out to your 9 to 5 so you can side hustle yourself into the stratosphere? Girl, you got this.
In my limited, carefully curated existence, I think the “perfect” creative job 1) doesn’t exist, SIKE and 2) is somewhere in the Medium Place of caring about what you do, being proud of what you do, but logging the fuck off at 5:02 p.m. so you can go live your life VICARIOUSLY THROUGH YOUR SIMS NAMED AFTER YOUR CATS, who are currently making more progress on their thirteenth novel while you’re stuck in a chapter on yours for the eighteenth month in a row.
As I gear up to begin Job Number 4, I do believe it’s possible to be a healthy level of happy while you get in your bag, based on boundaries you set. Because although 23-year olds are fleeing their first jobs out of college left and right for the apparent abundance of vaguely titled and extremely well-paying roles “in tech” that definitely exist (?), only you can decide what’s best for you.
Is it power? Is it prestige? Is it the excuse to dress like Shiv Roy to mask the pain of paying $3,000 for an 800 sq foot apartment? Or maybe it’s a means to an end, something to get you through the week and pay for your HBO Max subscription.
Perks are also important to consider. Tiktok will tell you mental health is the biggest perk, but the elder Millennials are the rulers in this realm—any Reddit thread worth 3 hours of your spiraling will tell you that the salary is not the only thing worth considering when you’re considering your worth. What’s the PTO policy? Are they still forcing people to work in an office 5 days a week? (True story: A recruiter I’d worked with to find contractors at my last job reached out to me asking if I knew anyone who’d be interested in a full-time marketing role that required them to be in the office ALL WEEK and only paid like $60k because they were “having a hard time finding candidates.” !!! Read the room.) Are they going to pretend like anything you do is even remotely important enough to send an email on the day after Thanksgiving?
For example, my last job offered unlimited PTO and paid me fine. But while I may have been working on my high-waisted trousers collection, it was at the cost of getting a paycheck from consoling evil, embarrassing Karens.
I have mentioned this before, a lot, but even having to have a job is kinda evil in itself—and if you spend too long trying to figure out if working for a brand/corporation somewhere, anywhere, is actually ENTIRELY GOOD, then I have some majorly bummer news, dudes.
The American Dream: It’s a balance!
My first job gave me a title I needed to break into a career path I only knew existed because of “Mad Men,” as I was someone who went to school for things like Writing Reviews About “Mad Men.” I got to end game pretty quickly there, but will always respect my supervisor (a former mall store manager who had never written a description about a dress in her life) being like, “YAY, you will not be happy here.” Transparency, we love to see it!
My second job came with critical acclaim, then backlash, then acclaim, then indifference, then some more acclaim and a Netflix documentary everyone who worked there pretended to ignore. I learned a shit ton, and it was only as I began to understand where I wanted to go and the game I needed to play to get there that I realized it wasn’t going to happen for me in the copy queendom I had created for myself. And then I began to resent it, because it had been my work home for so long and was now treating me badly and it made me feel very sad and definitely like I wanted to write a tell-all.
My third job had always come with the internal caveat that it was impermanent. It was my attempt at “maybe I don’t need to give a shit about the ‘brand’ as much, maybe I can just clock in and out and then go home and make my Sims write.” It also came with some stepping stones I knew I could use to level up my ladder climbing: I’d get to manage a team, or so I thought, and help lead a rebrand, or so I thought.
Those 14 months are a tale for another time, but wowww have you ever seen the movie “Titanic?” Where the big boat hits an iceberg and someone is like, “Sir, we’ve hit an iceberg,” and the Man in Charge was like, “Nah,” and then water starts literally pouring in and drowning the creative team, uh, poor people at the bottom and the first guy is like, “Sir, we are ALL going to die because we hit that huge, avoidable block of ice,” and the Man in Charge is like, “Shut up and make me another sale about some bundles of these fugly products—you have 24 hours” even though the company, uh, boat is going to capsize in like 2 hours ??? It was like that.
Unfortunately for my mental health, it seems ambition and career growth and feeling fulfilled in my work is who I AM.
So, TURNS OUT, I do need to care a bit about where I work and who I represent. Being embarrassed to tell people where I work or what I do has never been my vibe. After all, I was, like, five years old telling people I wrote books when all I did was scribble shit on yellow-lined paper and make my sister sit for hours while I read it to her.
This is the part where my cartoon alter ego splits herself into two, one in a bossy high rise trousers and black top combo and the other in regular Holly attire of a high neck black top and high rise jeans and the career one waves and leaves and the regular one turns into pink dust.
Is this storyboarding?
Anyway,
When I decided to get back into job hunting, I did not know that it was going be …….. so very dumb. So very hard. So very too much for it being modern times. And I consider myself a good interviewer! I’m a clutch candidate! I have long gotten over the thing where I couldn’t talk to boys to their faces until I was like 15, and I am also getting my masters in telling people to just let the copywriter write the copy. I am very hirable!
I knew this journey would be something else, after having not done it in so long. My break between jobs two and three involved less of a hunt and more of a blatant ignoring as I ran through a mine field of red (hot pink?) flags in the interest of working with people I liked. ICEBERG AHEAD.
But now, I was back in the Hunger Games and I was IN FOR A TREAT. TikTok made it look easy, anyway. TikTok said there were 1 bazillion jobs and only 1 talented person (you, dear subscriber) to fill them all! TikTok said you can work anywhere and also not get fired (too often) for making TikToks about it! Let’s gooooo!
As with most things in life (winged eyeliner, training all your baristas to make iced coffee the same way and convincing the legal team literally no one is going to sue you for a product name that is just an adjective plus a noun), it should not be this hard.
But we are in the worst dimension, the one where they won’t stop green-lighting “Game of Thrones” spin-offs. And so job hunting is fucking hard, and here are some things I feel like we could do to make it less hard because it is the year 2022.
This is the part where my cartoon alter ego takes out a pen and obnoxiously clicks it.
- Cut the antiquated hoops system
This might be spicy, but can we stop asking clearly qualified candidates to spend 6 hours outside of their full-time employment to write 4 fake emails and a brand campaign? Girlfriend, I have been in this game almost as long as the run of “Smallville,” so I know how to write a headline. I applied to this job because I read the qualifications, as reading is important when you are a writer. I know because I pretended to read books upside down before I could actually read because I at least understood the gist.
You said it required at least 6 years experience and I have more than that, but you want me to … prove that I can write copy for office chairs?
It’s just unnecessary. And it is cocky of me to say this, maybe, but a good writer is a good writer and other writers are bad writers. If I wasn’t a good writer, I wouldn’t have 8 years experience… writing.
Of course I can write. Not only that, but I think my ability to strategize or work well with others can easily come across in conversation and not in your 12-page PowerPoint I have to download, edit and resend to you in 48 hours? Maybe let’s chat—as two humans? Who will have to spend 40/hrs a week together? Probably good to make sure that’s a good fit? I promise I can PowerPoint.
At this stage in my career, I am not looking to prove that I can write. I am looking to prove that I can write and mentor others to write better. I am looking to prove that I can lead—I am a ladder climber, that is why I am here, interviewing for this job on the ladder.
You know, it’s like, don’t worry, my tombstone will be 40 characters just like the ideal email subject line—can we talk about cross-functional partnerships and your future plans for this team’s growth and success?
I did a lot of interviewing the last 6 months. Because the thing about icebergs is that smart people see them coming and dumb people drive (?) their ships into them. So I knew it was time, uh, immediately. And I also knew that I missed the prestige (and the process, and the promotion cycle, and even the semblance of having a plan to do anything, even one single thing, to make the business do well) of a Big Brand.
You could say my DMs were open for business.
Of the 4 Big Brands I interviewed with in the last 6 months, only 1 of them gave me a take-home test. (Another said they were going to and then didn’t 🚩.) I also had an introductory chat with a fifth Big Brand that would have made me take one—I possibly would have pursued it, even though they sell $45 candles and tried to pitch a senior copywriter salary of $10k less than what I was making at a small, struggling direct-selling company, but then they wound up cancelling the roles before even passing anyone to the hiring manager, so.
Anyway, I hadn’t been asked to take a copy test in 6 years, since I was trying to get my first copywriting job. This one, 3 copywriter jobs later, had 3 parts: email, creative strategy and brand identity work. I had to write a fake email, strategize high-level messaging for TWO concepts that were to span across multiple categories and channels, and then give feedback on and rework a brand tagline.
While working 40 hours at the job I was trying to quit!!!!!
And, this was only the third step in a 4-hoop process—7, if you break out each 30 MINUTE interview I had to have with 4 team members.
I’m sorry, but, kind sirs and madams, you are selling 18,000 categories of home goods of questionable quality and child trafficking ability, what is happening here?
I didn’t get the job, but not because I didn’t ace that test. Because, I mean, if you give me a test, I am going to crush it. But why are you giving me a test for a role that—across the (LinkedIn job) board—infers that some established talent and street cred is necessary to even be qualified to try.
I’d hate to see what they make the poor baby copywriters do.
Not to mention, I am not not convinced they didn’t steal part of my ideas. One of my concepts was around the idea of “self care” and how to create a space that encourages it in 3 areas: turning the bathroom into a personal spa, adding “me time” touches to your bedroom, and upping your living rooms with bar carts for entertaining and couches for watching your fave entertainment (I name-dropped “Bridgerton” season 2 here, because I never did learn from all those teachers who told me to stop using so many pop culture references.) About a week after the team would have gotten and reviewed my copy qualification assessment, I saw this Big Brand post a little Instagram story about …….. self care, and how to create spaces throughout your home that encourage it.
A bathroom spa. Lots of plants. And a comfy couch to “watch your favorite TV shows.”
This is the part where steam comes out of my cartoon alter ego’s ears.
I didn’t screenshot it and I should have, but boyyy did it give me the ick. And maybe, okay, not the most revolutionary idea for a home retail brand, but what are the odds that I would be thinking, apparently, the exact same thing as someone else on their team and therefore, maybe, actually a perfect fit?
Hmmm, I don’t know. There’s also the thing where my conversation with the hiring manager was all abut how this Big Brand wanted to do more relevant storytelling for their audience. So.
DID YOU GET ENOUGH MILLENNIAL EYEBALLS ON THAT?
Stop making candidates do dumb tests and then also maybe stealing their ideas! It’s lame and we won’t want to work for you anyway!
BONUS COMPLAINT: As someone who has also lived the other life, the one where you are creating the dumb tests—it also sucks! I can tell from your portfolio if you are funny enough to write our captions. And if you can’t tell from a writer’s work if they would be a good fit or not for your work maybe you shouldn’t be hiring them? Damn!
2. Stop asking stupid questions
I know I just said that you can find the right fit by having the right conversation, but stop it with the stupid questions. You know the ones:
“What would you say is your greatest strength [other than the experience meticulously outlined on your resume, which clearly got you to this point]?”
“How have you handled other teams [pretending like they are copywriters and] giving feedback?”
“What does diversity mean to you [in goddamn 2022, from a corporation’s standpoint, when brands aren’t people and—wait that’s another post]?”
I just … why. WHY. Pre-COVID, this shit could fly. Pre-COVID, everyone was still in their executive offices, sneering down at the peasants and making them prove through thoughtfully curated “behavioral” questions anyone could easily Google that they could be just as charming, ruthless and “family oriented” as they were.
But the times have changed. As a Millennial, I am only giving you a heads up because I am from a generation of people pleasers. Gen Z, though … Gen Z will not stand for your shit. They are not going to sit through 12 interrogations because they don’t want your e-commerce bullshit job bad enough. They’re part-time influencers anyway and can probably build their own e-commerce brand, just like in that one old-timey book they haven’t read, “Girlboss.”
We have got to do away with the stupid questions.
In January, I interviewed for a Big Brand that will always be in my top 10. It’s in an industry I would love to break into, and have been severely hindered in doing so by my location in Everything Sucks Here But There’s L Brands, Ohio. I ignored every red flag right up into the final panel lap, because I genuinely enjoyed meeting the team and know I could have done the job and would have happily gone full-throttle Corporate Girly and ran the place in 10 years.
But the feeling wasn’t mutual, which they let me know two and a half weeks later than they said they would, we’ll get THERE in a minute—and when I look back on that panel interview versus the interviews I did for the other Big Brands, well, yikes.
Four team members absolutely drilled me about my strengths, weaknesses, thoughts on diversity, thoughts on playing nice with co-workers who were never going to like the marketing team, tell me about your history blah, blah. It was brutal and I managed to smile through the questions that sounded like they were coming out of something, from, like, 1992. There was no effort to get to know me as a person, it was all examples of this or that or what brands do you follow and do you think they are doing diversity right? (This is the part where my cartoon alter ego holds up a sign that says BRANDS AREN’T PEOPLE.)
At some point I didn’t pass their test. I mean, I thought I was cool and charming and very I’m-an-overachiever-stuck-in-Ohio, but, I don’t know. I guess I’ll never know why, because all they sent me was an automated rejection with a link to more career advice—we’ll get THERE in a minute.
The other Big Brand that maybe stole my shit also put me through the ringer. But, I will give them this: They were flexible with my schedule at my FULL-TIME JOB and let me drag the convos out over a week instead of one relentless 3.5-hour Tuesday. This helped a bit, and at least they weren’t all asking me the same questions. It was still an awful lot of “How do you measure success when it comes to writing an email?” The fuck? If people open it? Tell me why I should move to your city, maybe. Do you like cats? Important that you like cats.
Also important? You don’t tell the copywriter you’re interviewing that the reason you’re looking for a copywriter is because a bunch of business bros bought your company and…fired all the writers because they didn’t know that marketing needed….words….
Fully that Chrissy Teigen cringe meme.
I knew my next job was The One, because this is how the interview went with my new boss:
- I loved your stuff, it’s very funny. (Amazing, a hiring manger who took the time to get familiar with a potential hire’s easily searchable portfolio of work, and also has good taste.)
- Tell me about some projects you’re really proud of. (NOT: What did you do when a random merchant said they wanted to change the headline, or what would you say your current manager would say is your worst quality?)
- What questions do you have? (He let ME lead the interview, because, well, a conversation—even an INTERVIEW—goes two ways.)
And then the next interview, with my new boss’s boss went like this:
- I don’t want to repeat any questions and have already heard amazing things, what questions do you have for me about the role / company / team / moving to not Ohio? (Translation: We’ve successfully used our common sense to assess your professional skill set so let’s talk about regular things.)
!!!
That was it! Just two possible pals having a chat. I felt immediately comfortable, and not “on the spot.” If anything, I felt like I hadn’t prepared enough, because what I had prepared was a long list of answers to canned questions, based on the last 5-ish months on the hunt.
This was interesting.
I was able to sneak in accolades without being forced to list them out in SPAM order or whatever that question-answering acronym is that is not helpful to anyone who’s ever answered questions.
Both “interviews” went slightly over because we were just chatting. About the team, about the company’s plans, about the happy hours and the new city I’d potentially live in.
And at the end of both, I thought, Wow. This is a really fucking cool team and they seem to think I am cool and I bet we could do some cool shit together.
And so when they wrote up an offer for me (right when they said they would) it was a no-brainer, other than the uprooting my and my husband’s entire lives and moving 30 hours/3 timezones away thing.
But those chats, and the lack of “prove yourself through outdated societal expectations of the process” is what really sealed the deal. They knew, from the literal work I’d submitted alongside my resume, that I could do the job. They knew I could write good words. They were instead concerned about hiring the right person. (Purrson.) And in all of my future chats with future candidates of my future team, I want them to feel like that. Like: This feels like a good role for me, the human, and me, the former gifted kid turned workhorse with poor work/life boundaries but excellent communication skills.
3. Knock it off with the fake follow ups
Can we please, PLEASE, stop telling candidates you’ll follow up, when, really, you won’t follow up unless they are the Chosen Ones, and otherwise you’re just going to leave them hanging for 1-2 weeks while you finalize an offer for the Chosen One??? This happened to me during every serious talk with the Big Brands, except for the time I was the Chosen One.
During one, I was told I should hear something after the 2 interviewers met “at the end of the week.” I let them know I had a final chat with another company the following week, in hopes that it would expedite the process. They didn’t follow up end of the week, and when I reached out to the recruiter I got a very curt reply of “probably this week.” A full week went by, and the other company I’d told them about let me know they were putting an offer together. I reached back out to the recruiter and said here’s the sitch, but that I was interested in learning more about her role still if they could just give me a fucking timeline, please. She ignored me for 5 days, then sent a bland note referring to someone I hadn’t even interviewed with, saying that they’d decided to put an offer out to another candidate.
WHY can’t you just tell someone after you interview them, at ANY stage, whether they’re moving on or not? All I’d needed to know was whether I was being advanced to the next round, not whether I was getting an offer.
Not to be dramatic, but it is EMOTIONALLY DRAINING to go through the interview process for a new job, EVEN JUST ONE TIME. It is 4-6 weeks of constant mind games where you are lying to your current boss, fighting your imposter syndrome, desperately trying to gauge people’s interest in your sense of humor OVER ZOOM, and clinging onto the shred of hope that they like you, too, and you can put in your two weeks, like, next Friday.
The LEAST we could start doing is treating candidates like the people they are first, and less like the potential money makers they are second.
I’m not an idiot—I knew what the recruiter’s curt reply meant, as it was a total tone shift from our last conversation where she was excited to follow up with the managers about my interview. I knew she was stalling without telling me she was stalling, because they had probably already pushed someone ahead but wanted to keep me on the back burner. Candidates aren’t stupid, yet you expect them to act stupid and still want to work for your company after you treated them like they were stupid?
Also, ma’am, YOU slid into MY LinkedIn DMs and also they fired all their writers!!!!
I’m good.
Another thing we could start doing is making sure that when you reject a candidate, it’s for the role they actually thought they were interviewing for.
When the Big Brand that maybe stole my shit rejected me, it was this weird middle ground between not being totally heartless but also being … off. Throughout the process, I had been sneakily trying to get clarity about the role out of the team. Mainly, I was concerned about it being a lateral move, because I was asking my husband to leave a job he loves and a city he likes so that I could Career Woman. I wanted my next move to be as beneficial to both of us as possible, and my stipulations were that it was a title change, a bigggg salary boost and a Big Brand I liked. This was a Big Brand I would have been fine with—it would have definitely opened doors at other Big Brands I liked more. It was in a city I had never been to, but was willing to try and like because it was not Columbus, Ohio. And from what I could gather, it was going to pay just fine. So, all that was left was trying to determine what the fuck this job was.
One person told me it was a senior role, but not in the sense that it managed anyone. Another told me it would have at least 1 direct report. I had about 2 years experience managing, so it sounded like an appropriate fit, whatever, I so very badly wanted a new job.
When I eventually got the dreaded rejection email—about a week late, after having to do the painfully awkward “I know you know and I know you know I know” follow up—it said “Update: Copy Manager at Big Brand.” Copy Manager? Since when was I interviewing for Copy Manager? I was interviewing for either a Senior Copy Lead or Senior Copywriter or Someone Senior Who Writes Things. I talked to 6 people from the Big Brand and none of them had called it a Copy Manager. I had definitely been applying for manager roles, as that’s where my career is headed and I do have the starting experience for it—but this was not one of those. And if it was, I could think of at least 10 things I would have tweaked in my “please love me” presentation, because that was a totally different role than the one I thought I was interviewing for.
The rest of the rejection was meh, full of “loved chatting with you, but”s and letting me know that they went with a candidate who had more experience in the home retail space, and who had more people management experience. Home stuff, sure. Maybe don’t push the fashion girl to the panel if you were always going to prioritize home experience. But more people management experience…for a role that I had been told… wouldn’t be managing any people?
This is the part where my cartoon alter ego dodges a bullet.
And, the last thing we absolutely must stop doing, the worst of all the worsts—the automated rejection.
Why? WHY. Why are we incapable of giving someone 10 minutes of your day, after they gave about 10 days of their life over 6 weeks and amid 3 suspicious “vet appointments” ? I get that it’s an uncomfortable conversation, to have to remind someone that they weren’t the only person vying for a job and therefore not everyone’s favorite, even when everyone acts like you’re the frontrunner when they are asking you to tell them your weaknesses aka why they should not hire you.
But you know what? Interviewing is uncomfortable! Coming to the realization that you are no longer fulfilled or happy in your current job and knowing you need to leave but have to jump through 84 hoops to get “offered” a way out is uncomfortable!
You’re a recruiter, you shut people down left and right all day long. And, honestly, if you’re just using an automated system to do that instead of having tough conversations, then maybe you should have to re-interview for your job.
This automated “no thanks” stung, and it crumpled my confidence for a while. This wasn’t like when you get an automated email four months after you applied to a job you’ve already forgotten you’d applied to. This was after almost two months of getting to know a team, of feeling really good about the vibe, of being verbally assured that it “felt like a good fit” from multiple interviewers, of quick responses from the recruiter about next steps—until the last step.
It was made worse by the fact that I’d been put in candidate purgatory for two weeks before they finally just told me the truth, when they could have ripped off the band-aid and let me move on with my life. I was told there were 2 more candidates after me, and they’d follow up at the end of the week. Friday came, and when it was 6 p.m. (they were an hour ahead of me), I felt like I could throw up. I kind of knew, then. But I thought, I don’t know, maybe they got busy. Fridays aren’t really for working, maybe they didn’t have time to write the offer letter. Maybe maybe maybe. Then Monday ended in silence, and by the time it was midweek, and a full week since my final audition, I reached out to the recruiter. She was quick to respond, which I took as false hope. She said they’d had “scheduling issues” with the other candidates and were hoping for a decision end of this week. I felt a little rejuvenated, like maybe it could still be me.
Another Friday came and went with nothing. Another Monday, a Tuesday. And then at, like, 8 a.m. Wednesday morning, I got the “thanks for applying, but we’ve decided to move forward with other candidates.”
“Candidates” — like this wasn’t the last step in the process…? Again, candidates aren’t stupid.
It was one of those emails where you couldn’t even respond to it.
I liked the team and wanted the opportunity so badly, though, that I followed up in another thread with her real email, leaving a note about how much I loved chatting with the team and if they had any feedback, I’d happily take it because this Big Brand was one I’d always wanted to work for.
I never heard anything back.
Why? WHY. Why are we treating candidates like this? Of course you can’t pick up the phone and call all 10,000 applicants or whatever. But once you get to the FINAL round, I feel like we should make a rule and/or societal expectation that you be treated like a frickin person at that point, and not a file in their system. It left such a sour taste in my mouth, and hurt my fucking feelings! Everything felt fake and like a huge waste of time and it’s exhausting that this isn’t even abnormal.
A company’s hiring process is a HUGE tell of who they are, and it is WILD that the tiniest bit of humanity shown to candidates can make such a huge difference.
It’s lame to make people make tests, or take them. It is not hard to not act like a corporate cyborg for 30 minutes and have a regular conversation with someone who could be in your life for years, and TELL PEOPLE WHEN IT’S A NO. JUST TELL THEM. NOT A YES? THEN IT’S A NO.
Meanwhile—
The company that does want you, the role that is the right fit, will always be sure to let you know. The recruiter for my new job reached out to me an hour after my interview with my boss to schedule the next round. She emailed me before the offer was even final to let me know they were planning to offer me the job, like calling dibs, and it was awesome. She immediately sent it over when she said she would, and then the team took another week to rework the whole thing after I asked for more money like a good little girlboss.
That is how you know a company wants you. They show you and they TELL you and they will pay you mad stacks to write about CATS, etc. Maybe the purrfect creative job does exist.
This is the part where my cartoon alter ego winks.
hi, i’m holly. 