Happy Fathers Day - Ghosted Recruiter

So I’m sitting here at the kitchen table, drinking coffee that tastes like regret and bad financial decisions, just staring into the middle distance like a man whose “5-year plan” expired four years ago. The house is quiet, the kids are still asleep, and I’m debating whether I have the emotional bandwidth to reheat the same oatmeal for the third day in a row.

And that’s when it happens.

Ding.

A text.

From an unknown number.

I glance down and nearly choke on my bitterness brew.

“Hi Alex! Just wanted to wish you a Happy Father’s Day. Hope it’s filled with joy and family.”

Sincerely,

A recruiter who ghosted me three months ago.

Oh. Now you remember me.

You vanished like a puff of smoke the second I sent over my résumé and availability. But today, on Father’s Day, you suddenly found the Holy Spirit of HR and decided to resurrect my contact info?

I read it again just to be sure.

Same recruiter who once sent me 17 back-to-back emails saying how “excited” they were to move forward, only to disappear like my childhood dreams after the second round interview.

And now they’re texting me like we’re close. Like we exchange Christmas cards and co-parent a LinkedIn group.

I stared at my phone, speechless.

Not from gratitude.

But from the sheer audacity.

This is the same person who left me on read after I sent a thank-you email that took me three hours, two thesauruses, and one minor emotional breakdown to write.

And now?

They want to wish me joy and family.

Honestly? I wanted to respond:

“Thanks! And happy Ghosting Anniversary to you. Hope it’s filled with unread messages and awkward small talk!”

Or:

“Appreciate it. Just thinking about how the silence from your end also built character.”

But instead, I just stared at my mug and thought:

You know what?

Maybe this is the modern professional Father’s Day card.

A deeply ironic, full-circle moment where the person who once rejected you—after making you answer 19 “cultural fit” questions—pops up to send blessings.

Maybe it’s their way of saying:

“I may not have given you a job, but here’s a vague, emotionally confusing text message.”

And honestly?

I’ll take it.

Because at this point in my life, I’ll take encouragement from a recruiter, a raccoon, a streetlamp, or a Wi-Fi signal shaped like a cross.

So I sipped my coffee, shook my head, and texted back:

“Thanks. You too.”

(I don’t know if they have kids. But that’s not the point.)

Sometimes you reply not because they deserve it—but because you’ve healed.

And also because the alternative was sending them a passive-aggressive TikTok and I’m trying to grow.