The Trojan Job Hunt: A Millennial Odyssey

So there I was, fully armored in rejection emails, LinkedIn endorsements from people I’ve never met, and a portfolio so polished it could blind a hiring manager.

Let me be clear—I wasn’t just job hunting anymore. I was waging war.

After applying to 47 roles, all of which “went in a different direction” (possibly toward a wormhole or a distant hiring planet), I decided to embrace a new strategy: channel the energy of Achilles. Yes, the Greek warrior with anger issues and amazing hair. I was done playing nice. No more “Dear Hiring Manager” letters. From now on, I’m bringing spears—metaphorical spears.

And just like the Trojan War, it wasn’t about logic anymore. It was about pride. Companies posting “urgent hire” roles and then ghosting you for 3 lunar cycles? That’s a declaration of honor-based combat in 2025.

My enemy? The Gatekeepers.

You know them. The ones who hide behind phrases like:

• “We’re looking for someone with 15 years of TikTok strategy experience.”

• “We’re prioritizing culture fit (translation: We don’t want anyone to challenge Dave).”

• “The role is remote-ish, flexible-ish, and will pay you in exposure.”

But I wasn’t alone. Oh no.

My fellow Millennials were with me—battle-scarred and caffeinated, dragging their degrees, their debt, and their side hustles behind them like war banners.

On the other side? The Boomers. With their 1982 résumés and Hotmail accounts, applying to the same jobs while saying things like, “Just follow up with a phone call!” Sir, we haven’t had a dial tone since Obama’s first term. Please.

And then… there was the job post.

The one.

It matched everything. My experience. My skills. My soul. I sharpened my résumé like a dagger and leapt into the ATS (Applicant Tracking System) like a Greek hero breaching the city walls.

But just as I prepared to hit submit…

It vanished.

Like Hector at the gates. Like snacks in the office kitchen. The posting disappeared with a whisper:

“This job may not exist. It was posted for future consideration.”

You mean to tell me I just emotionally committed to a fictional listing?

Fine. I’ll build a horse.

I spend three days constructing a Trojan PDF. Beautiful layout. Killer design. Even a subtle easter egg that says, “I see you, Karen in HR.” I send it straight to the recruiter’s inbox with a subject line that reads:

“Sneaking Past the ATS — One Bold Candidate’s Strategy.”

No reply.

But I know they saw it.

How? Because I accidentally left tracking on and saw it opened 17 times.

Victory?

Not quite.

But enough for a toast and a passive-aggressive LinkedIn post.

So here I am—battle-worn, still unemployed, but spiritually unbroken.

Like Achilles before he caught a heel to the pride.

The Centurion has not given up.

We ride at dawn… right after we update our résumés again.