You’re Family Now

Another day, another recruiter telling me I’m family.

It started like this:

“Hi Alex! I came across your profile and oh my gosh, total rockstar energy! Like, seriously — you jumped off the screen.”

First of all… I didn’t jump. I crawled out of bed, scrolled through job alerts with one eye open, and applied to 14 roles before my coffee finished brewing. But sure, rockstar. I’ll take it.

(+10 points)

Then she dropped the classic:

“We’re not like other companies… we’re a family.”

And right there, I knew I was in danger.

Look — I already have a family. They guilt me into coming over for dinner and send me group texts with zero context. I don’t need another one that pays me in exposure and offers PTO like it’s a rare Pokémon card.

But she’s on a roll.

“Everyone here just loves each other! We celebrate birthdays, babies, breakups, pet adoptions, random Tuesdays…”

Girl, are y’all running a therapy group or a business?

Do I get a 401(k) or just a cake pop and a hug when I meet quota?

Then she hit me with:

“You’d wear a lot of hats.”

Of course. Always with the hats.

In job-speak, this means: “You’ll be doing five jobs but only getting paid for half of one, and also surprise — you’re in charge of morale now.”

So I ask what happened to the last person in the role.

“Oh… they just weren’t the right culture fit.”

Translation: They asked for boundaries.

We move on.

“The job is hybrid—just two days in office, and three on call in case your manager has a dream about a new process at 2 a.m.”

I ask about salary.

“Well, we don’t lead with compensation. We lead with passion and purpose.”

Cool. But unfortunately, my landlord leads with rent.

And that purpose won’t cover utilities.

Then she said:

“It’s a startup environment, but with the heart of a non-profit.”

So… broke, but enthusiastic?

Got it.

Before I can fake an excuse to leave, she says:

“Even if this isn’t the right fit — we’d still love to keep in touch. Once you talk to us, you’re part of the family!”

Lady. You haven’t asked if I have allergies, you don’t know my last name, and I’m 99% sure you called me “Aaron” earlier. This isn’t family. This is a very polite hostage situation.

Look, I get it. The job market is chaos.

But if you’re a recruiter reading this, can I make one humble request?

Let’s retire the whole “we’re like family” thing.

Tell me you have health benefits. Tell me you won’t Slack me during dinner. Tell me the coffee’s strong and the manager isn’t a micromanaging cryptid who only communicates in vague gifs.

Because if I hear one more time that I’m part of “the family” before I’ve even seen the job description…

I’m showing up to the interview in sweatpants, carrying a casserole, asking where y’all keep the remote.

Let’s keep it real.

And if we must be a family — please be the kind that pays.