Experience Rich, Paycheck Poor

So I’m sitting in my kitchen, clutching a coffee that tastes like burnt dreams and unfulfilled potential, staring at my laptop like it just insulted my mother.

I’d just gotten my 27th rejection email of the week. From a job I didn’t even remember applying to. The subject line said:

“Thanks for your interest!”

The body of the email might as well have said:

“LOL. No.”

To cope, I do what any stable adult would do: I scroll through LinkedIn like it’s a digital therapy session.

That’s when I see it—someone just posted, “I’m thrilled to announce I’ve accepted a new position as Director of Vibes at a Cloud-Based Synergy Consultancy!”

What even is that? Do they float in the sky shaking tambourines?

And just when I think I’ve reached peak existential crisis, I get a call.

Unknown number.

Naturally, I answer it. Because what if it’s the one?

“Hi Alex,” a chipper voice says. “This is Kayla from Talent Acquisition at [REDACTED FOR LEGAL REASONS] and I just wanted to say… we love your energy!”

Which is LinkedIn for: “We read half your résumé and assumed the rest.”

She continues, “We’re super excited about your background. Have you ever considered a dynamic, fast-paced, unpaid opportunity to gain exposure in the forklift innovation ecosystem?”

Me: “…Are you asking me to intern for a forklift startup… for free?”

Kayla: “It’s not unpaid. It’s experience-rich. Like, you’ll be swimming in experience.”

Me: “Can I pay rent with experience?”

Kayla laughs like I just told her the Wi-Fi password.

Then she says, “Before we move forward, we’ll need you to complete a 4-part assessment, a 3-day shadowing assignment, and a video essay about your deepest professional regret.”

I say, “That sounds like a therapy session in PowerPoint format.”

She doesn’t laugh this time.

She says, “It’s actually due in 12 hours.”

I hang up.

I sigh.

And just as I’m about to rage-apply to a bakery in rural Montana, my daughter walks in, looks at me in my robe and coffee-stained dignity, and says:

“You’re funny, Dad. I think you’re gonna make it.”

And I realize… maybe I already did.

Because yeah, I’m unemployed.

Yeah, I’m getting ghosted more than a haunted house.

But I still got jokes. I still got hope.

And apparently… I still got it in the eyes of someone who matters most.

So here’s to the jobless.

The inbox refreshers.

The cover letter warriors.

The experience-rich, paycheck-poor champions of tomorrow.

We’re not washed up.

We’re just warming up.

And we’re bringing coffee.