Surmounting the Job Hunt: Anecdotes of Home and Work

I am watching the sun set on La Jolla Shores beach for the first time in over ten years. I moved into my studio apartment 17 days ago, and I slowly exhale the salty ocean air, relieved at the thought that my new bed—albeit cheap, inflatable, and made of vinyl—awaits my return as dusk steadily creeps over the western sky. I don’t have much, but sharing this view in silent camaraderie with dozens of others turned westward in the final evening glow, I think: what else do I need?

Before I had even turned 21, I returned to my hometown San Diego as an eager technical editing intern after years away and many, many wishes to come back home. By all means it was a dream come true—this one job proved that I was capable of building my livelihood on editing. I had become a self-sustaining woman on the same ground I spent my girlhood.

I share this accomplishment not to boast inconsequently. In fact, I have a confession to make. My career as a writer and editor was launched by a job-seeking strategy condemned by many professionals today: mass applying.

If after a brief skim a job title and description hits the right buzzwords, I will supply my resume. I’ve read many times recruiters online pleading for young professionals to focus on building connections, to focus on the humanaspect of the job hunt and work your network. That applying without properly screening the job or its organization will become just another dead end.

Frankly, this is accurate—almost every one of my applications has yielded no response. But beyond combing the limited social network of an entry-level professional for jobs that probably don’t exist, what other actionable solution is there than to mass apply? In an era of AI applicant tracking systems that discard resumes like used tissues, what other choice do we have than to try? A shot in the dark still might hit its mark. In my case, it’s worked once, and that singular opportunity became the bedrock I will continue building my career upon.

I am 23 years old and standing in the parking lot outside The Encounter space of MECC after a full-day retreat. Young killdeer birds pace and cheep and jump around—I’d always wanted to see killdeers, renown for their spunk and comical demeanor, and here they were in full force, dancing as if to celebrate my initiation to the MECC team. I drive home, replaying conversations in my head, wondering if perhaps I should’ve withheld some of the stories I’d confided in my new supervisors—that I could’ve been more “professional.”

From the first interview to the first weeks of every job, there is a degree of self-image you must be overly concerned with. Some of these are simple, direct matters: Does this button-up scream ‘primed college graduate’ or ‘disheveled career woman?’ Do I risk fiddling with the office Keurig or just stick to my Hydro Flask? Others are not so easy: Should I tell my boss I’m worried about a friend after her city was attacked in a controversial war overseas? Is my job security ensured if I make a passing reference to my girlfriend of six years?

I’m an optimist by nature and believe we owe it to ourselves and the people around us—including coworkers and supervisors—to be authentically ourselves. For queer minorities, speaking candidly about our experiences is advocacy. Honesty opens the door for candid workplace conversations, fostering cohesion in people across projects, campaigns, and departments.

Furthermore, we live in a day where the line between work and personal life grows thinner and thinner. Professionalism used to be a rigid wall one scaled when entering the office and descended on the way out; a set of qualities which made an employee valuable in a shared, formal work setting. However, the advent of social media, remote work, and political extremism across my generation’s entire lifetime have made a reevaluation of professionalism necessary. In one Zoom meeting, it’s possible for my dog to stomp into frame at the same time my phone buzzes to inform me of a rally occurring in my city. The professionalism of decades past is gone—it simply cannot exist with how interconnected our lives are through media.

To my great joy and appreciation, MECC recognizes this and celebrates intersectionality with all the joys and challenges it brings. On that first retreat day, when discussing the idea for this very article, I laid out all my qualms about the job hunting process for young women like me. I made the conscious decision to recount the haphazard method of mass applying to so many jobs, desperate to prove my abilities to anyone who would take me. MECC did not discount my experience—rather they encouraged me to open a dialogue the organization may not have explored otherwise, enabling me to write this piece for folks like me who also run against an increasingly exclusive job market.

For all those folks who face the same tribulations, I urge you: keep trying. Finding the next job is a convergence of luck, tenacity, and readiness. Be willing to show up, to put yourself out there, no matter how many job applications it takes. I’ve done it before, and I’ll have to do it again several more times in my life. Our skills and aspirations may differ, but surmounting the job hunt is a common experience all young professionals share, so let my story contribute to the ongoing dialogue about this extensive, universal test of our abilities.

– Elizabeth Oh