I Was Awesome… But Not Hired

So I’m just minding my business, doing what all emotionally stable adults do—scrolling LinkedIn at 1:43 AM while eating shredded cheese out of the bag—when I see it.

A post.

From a recruiter who once interviewed me.

Back in September.

The post reads:

“I interviewed someone a while back for a role that wasn’t a fit, but they were AWESOME.”

Now pause.

Because my brain, running entirely on caffeine and fragile hope, immediately goes:

“Wait. That was ME.”

Because I remember that interview. Oh, I remember.

I had prepped like it was the Olympics.

Researched the company, stalked the entire executive team, memorized their core values like I was auditioning for a cult.

I even wore real pants.

Pants.

Not joggers. Not “business Zoom casual.” Full-on, circulation-limiting, belt-requiring pants.

We had a great conversation. Laughed. Shared ideas. Talked about innovation.

She said things like,

“You’re really refreshing!”

And,

“We’ll definitely stay in touch!”

I left the call thinking I was seconds away from getting adopted into the corporate family.

I updated my résumé with a little extra confidence and moved “Can Start Immediately” to bold.

And then…

Nothing.

No follow-up.

No rejection email.

No “We’ve moved in another direction.”

Just pure, uncut ghosting.

Like I had been gently placed into the forgotten applicant multiverse.

And now here we are, months later, and she posts:

“I once interviewed someone who was AWESOME, but not the right fit.”

I’m 98% sure that’s me.

There are only two things standing between me and full confirmation:

1. She didn’t tag me.

2. My ego is way too invested.

I’m staring at the screen like:

“Ma’am. If I was so awesome, why did I get treated like a pre-checked ‘I agree to the terms’ box?”

I almost commented:

“Thank you! I also once met someone who ghosted me like a polite banshee. Hope you’re well!”

But Brad the emotional support mouse said, “Let it go. We heal in silence.”

And here’s the kicker—she ended the post with:

“Always remember: how you treat candidates matters.”

I spilled my cheese.

Ma’am. You said that with your whole chest like you didn’t leave me emotionally on read for four months.

But here’s the thing. Maybe she meant it. Maybe I was awesome. Maybe she’s just part of a system that’s so broken, good intentions get lost in the applicant tracking abyss.

So I’m letting it go.

Not out of maturity, but because I’ve already hit my monthly quota of passive-aggressive comments and I don’t want Brad to revoke my snack privileges.

Moral of the story?

If you ever feel unseen, unchosen, or “not a fit,” just know:

You might’ve been awesome.

They might’ve written about you.

You just weren’t tagged in your own success story.

Yet.