Adventures of a Junior Job Seeker
Entering the tech world as a junior is far more chaotic than I’d imagined. I’m not just talking about the difficulty of landing an opportunity, but everything that comes with it: endless processes, contradictory offers, automation that doesn’t always help, and situations so surreal that, if you hadn’t experienced them yourself, you’d think they were exaggerated.
I’m Borja, a Data Scientist / AI Engineer. Although I’ve been working with data and data-driven campaigns for clients such as Netflix and Mercedes for years, I’ve always felt that my journey within the tech sector was only just beginning. With that mix of excitement and insecurity, I took to LinkedIn to look for my first opportunity. What followed was a series of situations worthy of a low-budget spin-off of the TV series Silicon Valley.
Vol. 1 — “We’ve got a match”: when the algorithm says you’re a good fit, but the process says otherwise
This has happened to me with several companies now. The first time was shortly after The Bridge Valencia, my previous job, closed down. An acquaintance recommended I apply for a role at his company: a Data Engineer position requiring three years’ experience. I didn’t meet all the requirements; I knew that. But, so as not to let him down, I applied anyway. I was rejected. So far, so logical.
Three weeks later, I received an email from that same company with a promising subject line: ‘We’ve got a match’. This time, the role really suited me: Domain Data Analyst. A position that was a much better fit for my experience, my skills and what I was looking for. It looked as though I might even be able to treat myself to some expensive chocolate again that month.
So I followed my usual approach for roles that interest me: I applied, added the recruiter on LinkedIn and waited. Two days later, I was rejected. As I’m just starting out in this field and, according to their own email, my profile was a good fit, I tried to get in touch with the recruiter. More than anything, I wanted to understand what had happened, improve my CV and get some feedback.
There was no reply. I understood. Recruiters are usually swamped. So I used my secret weapon: asking the acquaintance who worked there. The answer was quite revealing: as I’d been rejected for the first role, they hadn’t even got round to reading my CV for the second one. I’d been automatically ruled out.
That’s when I crossed that company off my list. Not because of the rejection, which is part of the process, but because of the feeling that poorly designed automation can cause a company to miss out on talent without even giving it a proper look.
The second similar situation happened to me with a recruitment platform. Like any junior jobseeker, I was signed up to several job sites. One day I received an email with another promising message: ‘We’ve got a match’. The role offered a good salary, good terms and, on the face of it, seemed like a good fit for me. I thought: “Well, if after filling in three hundred fields on their website they’re telling me I’m a good fit, there must be a reason.”
I was one step closer to that premium chocolate again.
I applied. Almost a month later, a recruiter wrote to me to apologise for the delay. She explained that she’d been very busy and that, ultimately, I didn’t fit the profile. A real blow. Goodbye to the chocolate.
I replied politely. I told her I understood, that it was a shame and that I hoped we might cross paths in the future. But I also asked her a very simple question: if the platform itself had recommended the vacancy to me because I supposedly fitted the profile, how was it possible that I didn’t fit the profile after all?
She didn’t reply (apparently she really was busy).
Two days later, I received another email from her with a new offer. This time, for a Senior Full Stack role. At that point, I turned off the notifications and deactivated my account on the platform, realising that something in their algorithm must not be working quite right.
The third one was a bit different, but just as intriguing. The CEO of a company messaged me on LinkedIn to offer me a role as a freelance CTO on a project. He told me he loved my profile and thought I was the perfect fit for what they needed.
I asked for more details. He sent me the requirements: ten years’ experience, advanced technical leadership and a whole host of other things. At that point, I had six months’ experience in tech.
Basically, I was more junior than Vinícius.
I replied with something along the lines of: “Sorry, have you had a proper look at my profile? I’m not sure I’m a 100 per cent fit.” And then what so often happens happened: the great ‘ghosting’ that all juniors are familiar with. But then again, I suppose he must have been really busy too.
Vol. 2 — Start-ups: enthusiasm, chaos and lots of weird video calls
I’ve had several interviews with start-ups, and almost all of them have had something a bit odd about them. The first one wasn’t a video call, but a video. They wanted me to answer several questions by recording myself, in a YouTuber-style format, for a Data Solutions role. For a week, they sent me several emails insisting that I record the video.
I recorded it. I sent it. And they vanished.
Not a single “thank you”, not a “received”, not even an automated reply. I wasn’t expecting flowers, or a personalised email with violin music. But a simple “we’ve received your application” would have been nice.
The next start-up showed promise right from the start. A recruiter with a blurry profile picture messaged me about a vacancy I hadn’t applied for. They wanted to interview me with the head of IT. My first thought was: “This looks like a Jordanian scam; they must be after my Bitcoin wallet or my organs.” But we’re scientists (and besides, I don’t have any bitcoins), so we looked into it to see where the offer might lead.
I joined the video call for the interview and it turned out there really was someone on the other end. It was a start-up with a remote team of about ten people, and they were looking for a sort of hybrid role combining a PM, lead developer and AI lead. I explained that as a PM I could contribute a lot, but that as a developer I still considered myself a junior.
Silence.
It must have been seven seconds, but to me it felt like thirty years. The interview ended quickly with an “OK, we’ll be in touch”. I thought that was the end of the story. But no. The next day, their boss messaged me to arrange a second interview.
The role wasn’t exactly the same anymore. Now it was for a “collaborator”. And when a job offer starts changing its name during the process, there’s usually something going on behind the scenes.
The interview started late. Very late. And the first thing he said to me was: “You’re out of the running for the role.”
Great start.
He then added: “But as you’re a bit of an unusual candidate, I wanted to get to know you.” From there came a series of ‘sell yourself’ questions, such as ‘why should I hire you?’, along with two real-life technical case studies they were currently working on. I wasn’t particularly keen on the latter, because it’s one thing to be assessed and quite another to have an interview turned into a free consultancy session, but as I said, given the slightest chance of landing a job, we all end up jumping through hoops in the end.
After an hour, he took my portfolio as a digital marketer and my GitHub, and told me again that I was an unusual candidate and that he’d think about it over the week. At that point, I just wanted to close Google Meet.
I was lucky: I never heard from them again.
That very same day, two hours later, another company called me about a backend intern role at another start-up with an office overlooking the sea. The first call went very well. The CEO and CTO were friendly, there was a good vibe, and the role seemed interesting.
Over the following week, both of them were checking my LinkedIn almost every day. Then they suggested a live technical test. For those who haven’t been through that experience: it basically involves coding whilst someone watches your screen and you try to think, explain and not forget how to write a ‘for’ loop.
The test was supposedly on Django. I emphasise ‘supposedly’ because Django didn’t feature at all. I spent a week practising Django and, when the day came, I found myself faced with a GitHub repository containing ten tickets to fix basic Python bugs.
So we got started. I’ll admit that coding with someone watching me live makes my skills drop by about 200 per cent. Out of ten issues, I sorted out five or six. When it was over, I thought: “It’s unlikely there isn’t someone who’s done better than this.”
But the feedback was surprisingly good. They told me: “You’ve done brilliantly. Next week you’ll have a coffee with the team and, if it clicks, you’ll start on day X.”
So what happened?
Ghosting.
In fact, I wrote to them on the very day I was supposed to start, with a fairly tactful message: “Hi, I just wanted to confirm whether the process has been called off after all.” No reply.
Another interview was for an internship at a psychology app. They arranged a video call and the CEO appeared. She explained that she’d had an idea, that she’d studied entrepreneurship, that she’d joined a business accelerator-type network and that she was putting a team together.
“There are over 100 of us,” she said.
I thought: “Hang on. Over 100 people? In a start-up in an incubator? Just starting out? Something doesn’t add up.” And, sure enough, something didn’t add up.
The clue came with a question: “What motivates you to want to collaborate with us?”
Collaborate.
That’s when I began to understand.
He explained to me that people joined the company, worked full-time, and that he didn’t want people motivated by money, but by the desire to create something incredible. Later on, if I enjoyed the work, he might offer me a stake in the company.
I tried to summarise it to make sure I’d understood correctly: “Do you want me to work eight hours a day, for free, motivated by the project?”
Silence.
I then asked him if the internship was paid. He got angry. He told me he’d conducted lots of interviews for that role and that everyone had understood it wasn’t paid. I explained that the advert hadn’t made that very clear and that, honestly, I found the whole approach rather problematic.
The conversation ended shortly afterwards when he told me they already had an intern working for free and he was happy with him (poor lad).
He blocked me on LinkedIn.
I’m not going to lie: I was glad about that.
The last start-up in this batch also had its moment. I was contacted by a young company, also with an office overlooking the sea. I was invited to a video call with the CEO and CTO. The CTO didn’t join. The CEO suggested we wait.
We waited ten minutes.
When I asked if he knew whether the CTO was going to join, he told me that the CTO had declined the call when he received the invitation.
Right.
He asked me if I could record the interview so he could pass it on to the absent CTO afterwards. I said yes. And he began with a sentence that already made me suspicious: “Tell me something about yourself—but the real you. Something profound. We want to get to know you as a person, not just for your code.”
I told him about my career path. Then he saw the bit about Netflix, and the interview turned into an hour-and-a-half-long conversation about what it had been like working with Netflix, what my day-to-day life was like as an advertising executive, and what I’d learnt from large-scale campaigns.
Hardly anything about data. Nothing about AI. Nothing about the role.
When it was over, what happened?
Exactly: ghosting.
Extras: little gems from the process
The interview with an AI
One of the most curious experiences was an interview via WhatsApp. Whilst I was chatting with the supposed recruiter, I started to notice something odd. Their writing style was far too robotic. What’s more, I’d been discussing agency recruiters on LinkedIn just a few days earlier, so the topic was fresh in my mind.
I asked them straight out: “Are you human?”
Their reply was: “I’m part of the team at…”.
I said: “You’re an AI.” They replied with the same thing again. I then asked for a voice note to check I was actually speaking to a person.
That’s when things started to fall apart.
I’ve created several chatbots on n8n for WhatsApp and I know quite well where they tend to go wrong. So I started asking more specific questions, looking for inconsistencies and testing the limits of the flow. As an experience, it was interesting. As a recruitment process, it was rather unsettling.
The famous recruiter
I was contacted by a recruiter with over 300,000 followers on LinkedIn. She sent me an offer for which I wasn’t qualified. In fact, it wasn’t even in my field of expertise.
So far, nothing new.
The striking part came later: among the requirements, they asked me to send a photo of myself and a photo of both sides of my ID card, supposedly because the client was international. I replied that this wasn’t something that could be requested just like that, without further ado, at the initial stage of the process.
And here there was an interesting twist on the usual ghosting: they didn’t answer my question, but at least they said a polite goodbye before disappearing.
It’s a nice touch.
The start-stop
On this occasion, I don’t think the recruiters were to blame. I was contacted twice by a recruitment team about a role at a well-known Spanish bank. On both occasions, the client halted the process.
The difference is that this time they did let me know. They wrote to me, kept me informed and brought the matter to a close.
It may seem like a small thing, but when you’ve been through several processes full of silence, an honest update is very much appreciated.
What I’ve learnt from all this
After several applications, interviews, technical tests, videos, automated messages, ‘matches’ that weren’t really matches, and processes that vanish without explanation, there’s one fairly clear conclusion: looking for a job in tech as a junior isn’t just about sending out CVs.
It’s about learning to manage uncertainty. It’s about not taking every silence personally. It’s about distinguishing between a genuine opportunity and a waste of time. It’s about understanding that a company is also presenting itself to you during the process.
Because an interview doesn’t just assess the candidate. It also reveals how a company operates: how it communicates, how it organises its processes, how it treats other people’s time, and how much respect it shows to those trying to join it.
And yes, I did eventually find a job. I joined Datadope following a straightforward, transparent and personable recruitment process. Two interviews, constant feedback and an incredible team right from the start. After everything I’d been through, I think that’s when I understood the difference between a process and a good process. Perhaps that’s the difference between a company that simply hires people and a company you really want to stay at.
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An expert in data science and artificial intelligence, specialising in generative AI, machine learning and business intelligence. His work transforms technological capabilities into products and business decisions, linking data, technology and business.