Jehovah Witness - Door Knock

Every single day someone knocks on my door like they’re the recruiter who actually followed up—which is already funnier than the entire hiring industry in 2025. Because let’s be honest: recruiters are the exact opposite of Jehovah’s Witnesses. Jehovah’s Witnesses show up faithfully, rain or shine, pamphlet in hand, determined to deliver their message. Recruiters? They disappear faster than my 401k during a recession. One minute it’s, “We think you’re a strong fit!” and the next it’s crickets louder than a summer night in Kansas. If recruiters worked like Jehovah’s Witnesses, I’d be drowning in job offers. Instead, I’m drowning in silence—and yet, somehow, daily pamphlets.

Picture it: every morning, a knock at the door. I don’t even flinch anymore. It’s not Amazon, not DoorDash, not even that one neighbor trying to sell me organic candles. Nope, it’s the faithful duo with literature in hand, ready to tell me about hope, salvation, and eternal promises. Meanwhile, the recruiter who promised to “circle back by Friday”? He’s already faking his own death somewhere between LinkedIn and an overbooked calendar. Honestly, I’d rather get ghosted by my ex than by a recruiter who made me jump through three rounds of Zoom interviews only to vanish like Houdini with a LinkedIn Premium subscription.

And I’ll give credit where it’s due: Jehovah’s Witnesses never mess up the follow-up. They never “accidentally” send me the rejection email meant for someone else. They never start with “We love your background!” only to end with “But we’ve decided to move forward with other candidates.” They just keep showing up, same time, same place, with consistency recruiters could only dream of. My porch has become their personal office—open enrollment for eternity.

I’ve tried tricks. I once put up a sign: “No Soliciting (unless you’re here with a job offer, snacks, or Jesus himself).” They smiled, nodded, and came back the next day anyway. Recruiters, on the other hand, can’t even remember to send me a two-sentence update. If I could somehow merge these two worlds, I’d have recruiters knocking on my door daily, pamphlets replaced with offer letters, and instead of “Have you considered eternal salvation?” they’d be saying, “We’d like to offer you $120K plus benefits and a hybrid schedule.” Now that would be divine intervention.

Last week, I got bold. I opened the door before they knocked. “Welcome back!” I said, like I was greeting UPS. “You know, recruiters could learn a lot from you folks. You show up. You follow up. You don’t ghost. You don’t lie about timelines. You don’t tell me the role is ‘paused indefinitely’ after stringing me along for months. Honestly, if the hiring industry had your work ethic, I’d be employed, promoted, and probably getting free snacks in an office by now.” They didn’t even blink. They just handed me another pamphlet with a lion napping next to a lamb, which—ironically—is a more realistic job market metaphor than anything I’ve read on LinkedIn.

So yes, every day someone knocks on my door. And while part of me wants to hide behind the couch, another part of me thinks: maybe recruiters should take notes. Because if they showed even half the consistency, commitment, and audacity of Jehovah’s Witnesses, I wouldn’t still be sitting here, refreshing my inbox, waiting for an update that will never come. Until then, at least I can count on the daily knock, the polite smile, and the only people in 2025 who actually keep their word.