Dean vs. The Great Job Hunt Plot Twist

This is the story of Dean.

Middle manager. Tech guy. Certified grown adult with a résumé that once melted printers in HR departments across the country. A man who, five years ago, could’ve walked into a job interview, blinked twice, and walked out with a parking spot, a 401(k), and a branded water bottle.

But now?

Now Dean is trapped in the strange, glitchy video game known as Post-Pandemic Job Hunting: Hard Mode.

It started like any classic comeback tale:

Laid off in a “restructuring,” which is corporate speak for “We love you but also—please leave immediately.” Dean dusted off his résumé, updated his LinkedIn, and walked back into the market like a man ready to reclaim his throne.

And that’s when it got weird.

First came the bait-and-switches. The kind where recruiters smile sweetly on Zoom and say, “This is a senior-level leadership role,” but halfway through the third round, they quietly mention the salary is $100K less than he made in 2019 and comes with no benefits—but hey! It does include “a fun, fast-paced culture.” 🙃

Then came… the Ambush Interview.

Dean applied for a Technical Manager role at New York Life. Normal stuff. He was prepped. Polished. Fully caffeinated. Ready to discuss infrastructure, leadership, and tech roadmaps. Instead, he found himself locked in a two-hour inquisition with two very enthusiastic life insurance salesmen who were not there to talk about technology.

They were there to recruit him.

“Dean, what if I told you… you could be your own boss?”

They pitched hard. The kind of pitch that starts soft and ends with “all you need is a list of 100 people you know personally and a deep tolerance for rejection.”

By the time it ended, Dean wasn’t sure if he had just been interviewed or spiritually mugged in a beige conference room.

He walked out dazed, clutching a brochure, wondering if he had hallucinated the whole thing. He checked the job posting again. Yup. Still said “Technical Manager.” But apparently, it was just a gateway drug to commission-based confusion.

Yet—Dean kept going.

He laughed. He ranted. He offered to help others with intros, even while crawling through the ruins of late-stage capitalism with dignity and a dented coffee mug.

Because that’s Dean.

A man who can survive corporate plot twists, spiritual pyramid schemes, and the dark void of HR silence—and still hold the door open for the rest of us.

In this season, Dean is a legend.

And when he finally walks into the right room—the one that sees him, values him, and doesn’t try to turn him into an insurance agent—

It’s not going to be a comeback.

It’s going to be a correction.

Because the world didn’t lose Dean.

It just temporarily forgot how to read a résumé.