Applying for jobs: between visibility and silence

There are moments when reality doesn’t arrive in a grand, dramatic way, but instead quietly sits down next to you. No drumroll, no plot twist, just a simple conclusion: my contract will not be renewed. I’ve known this for a few weeks now. Enough time not to dwell on that conclusion, but to start moving. Because in the end, that’s the only thing that really helps. Standing still is comfortable, but rarely productive. So I started building. On visibility, on substance, and on new opportunities.

One of the first things I worked on was my LinkedIn profile. It was already there, but it needed a thorough update. Not just cosmetically, but in content. What have I done, what am I good at, and most importantly: where do I want to go? I also explicitly indicated that I’m open to work. That may seem like a small step, but it makes it visible that you’re open to new opportunities. I’ve also become more active in sharing content. No empty statements, but articles that show who I am and how I think. On my own website, I’ve published pieces like Three temporary contracts and then nothing and This is where I am right now. Reflective, honest, and with a clear line: this is where I stand and this is what I have to offer.

And honestly: it works. I see more profile visitors, more interaction, and more people reading my articles. That’s no guarantee of a job, but it does show that the effort isn’t disappearing into a vacuum. Visibility isn’t a goal in itself, but it is a necessary condition. You can be very good at what you do, but if nobody knows, it becomes difficult. In that sense, it sometimes feels a bit like cooking for an empty room: you can prepare a beautiful dish, but it helps if someone is actually sitting at the table.

At the same time, I’ve simply been applying for jobs. Searching for vacancies, selecting, weighing options. And then: writing. Tailored cover letters and CVs, aligned with the role and the organisation. That takes time, and that’s exactly the point. A good application is not copy-paste work. You read up, try to understand what an organisation is looking for, and translate your experience into their context. It’s puzzling, refining, sometimes rewriting. But it results in something you can truly stand behind.

And then comes the interesting part. Or maybe better said: the silent part. Because after sending such a carefully crafted application, nothing happens. No confirmation of receipt, no rejection, no short reply. Just silence. As if you put a message in a bottle and throw it into the sea, hoping someone will find it someday. And that continues to surprise me. Not because I expect an invitation everywhere, but because the basics of communication seem to be missing.

It’s actually very simple. As a candidate, you take the time to write a letter and CV, you dive into an organisation, you invest time and attention. Then it’s not unreasonable to at least receive a confirmation of receipt. Or even better: a brief outline of the process. When does the first selection take place? When are interviews scheduled? When can you expect a response? It doesn’t have to be extensive. A small timeline, a few lines of text, and you know where you stand. A small effort with a big impact.

What makes it even more interesting is that many organisations strongly emphasise communication and experience externally. Customer focus, transparency, clear processes. All justified. But once you’re on the other side of the table, as a candidate, those principles suddenly seem much less obvious. That contrast is interesting. And, in a way, a missed opportunity. Because this process is exactly where you show who you are as an organisation. Not in words, but in behaviour.

As for employers who never respond at all, I can be brief. I won’t spend my energy there. Not out of frustration, but out of focus. Time and attention are limited, and I prefer to spend them on parties that show interest. Or at least demonstrate that they value basic communication. That’s not a high bar, but apparently one not everyone manages to clear.

Fortunately, it’s not all silence. There are interviews scheduled. There are contacts who do respond, who engage in conversation. There is movement there. Still, the ratio compared to the number of applications remains striking. You send ten, twenty, maybe more, and only a few conversations follow. That’s probably the reality of the current job market, but it does make you think. Not so much about yourself, but about the process as a whole.

Maybe that’s the most important lesson in all of this: focus on what you can control. I can’t force organisations to respond. I can’t determine how their internal processes work. But I can make sure my profile is in order, that my story is clear, and that my applications are written with care. I can remain visible, keep sharing, and keep investing in my own development. Those are the levers I can actually pull.

And yes, sometimes it feels like cycling against the wind. You push, you put in the effort, and it seems like you’re barely moving forward. Until suddenly you realise you’ve actually covered distance. That conversations are happening, new connections are forming, and movement is there. Not always visible in the moment, but clear when you look back.

For now, this is where I stand. In motion, visible, and with a healthy dose of realism. I take the silence on the other side for what it is. Not as rejection, but as part of the process. And somewhere, I assume there’s an organisation on the other side that doesn’t just look at a CV, but at the person behind it. An organisation that understands that a response isn’t an effort, but a sign of respect.

Until then, I’ll keep doing what works. Writing, sharing, applying, and having conversations. And maybe, just maybe, there will be a moment when that silence is broken. Not with a standard email, but with an invitation to something new.