Why I Failed with Job Hunting (and What I’m Doing Instead)

After getting made redundant in February (which I wrote about here), I faced a choice: jump straight back into job hunting or take some time to figure out what I actually wanted to do next. 

Here’s the embarrassing bit: part of me was actually relieved. After years of grinding away, the idea of not dealing with a constant volley of emails sounded blissful.

Time Out

I did take some time out initially. I went back to London, caught up with my parents and friends, went to Paris to spend some time with my sister, then met my family for a trip to Italy that I was originally going to miss because of work. 

Suddenly, no work meant I could actually go. It was an incredible month. Completely free, no work worries, no schedule, nowhere I had to be. I could just chat and hang out with friends without constantly checking my phone.

For the first time in years, I wasn’t stressed about daily email check-ins or client demands. The liberation was intoxicating.

Reality Check

But when I came back, reality hit hard. Bills keep coming whether you’re having a career crisis or not, and with young kids and a family depending on me, playing the “finding myself” card wasn’t really an option. The question shifted pretty quickly from “Do I want to work?” to “What the hell am I going to do now?”

The Great Reinvention Fantasy

My first brilliant idea? This was clearly the perfect time to completely reinvent myself. Why go back to law when I could become… anything else? I signed up for online courses, convinced I could pivot into something totally different. Tech, maybe? AI, crypto, fintech—all the rage at the moment—why not? Consulting? Something with better hours and less stress? 

Reality check number two came about a month into my great reinvention. Turns out, genuinely changing careers takes years, not months. Years I didn’t have while watching my savings account slowly deflate and expenses pile up. Sometimes the practical choice isn’t the exciting one, but it’s still the right one.

CV Cold Sweats

So back to what I knew: law. First problem? My CV hadn’t been touched in a decade. I had no idea where to start. The revision process became a full-time job. Do I start fresh? Do I base it on what I already have? How long should it be? What do I include, what do I leave out? The process went something like this:

• Write version, hate version
• Send to friends for their “honest” feedback
• Revise based on their not-so-diplomatic responses (it’s good to have honest, no-BS friends)
• Rinse and repeat

Getting it to “acceptable” felt like a never-ending chore that somehow needed to capture a decade of work on two pages.

Into the Cold (Applications)

Armed with my shiny new CV, I dove into the wonderful world of online job applications. Each one became this elaborate project—customising everything for each role, crafting the perfect cover letter, trying to sound enthusiastic about “exciting opportunities in fast-paced environments.” Hours per application. Actual hours. 

The results? Crickets. Complete radio silence. Some companies couldn’t even be bothered to send a rejection. Others hit me with those automated “thanks but no thanks” emails that feel like they were written by a particularly cruel robot. 

One recruiter told me I was “overqualified for the budget.” Another said the timing wasn’t right. A third just vanished after what seemed like a promising chat. Classic ghosting, professional edition. This was incredibly demoralising. Some days it was hard to keep going, wondering if there was something fundamentally wrong with me or my approach. 

Looking back, the job market was genuinely awful during this period. It wasn’t personal, even though it felt like it.

The Summer Escape

After months of this nonsense, I made what felt like both a defeat and a victory: I gave up. Properly gave up. No more LinkedIn scrolling, no more tailored applications, no more pretending to be excited about working for “dynamic” companies. Instead, I focused on planning a proper European summer with the family. 

Six weeks of sunny weather split between Amsterdam and London. My kids got quality time with their grandparents, we explored a new city together, and nobody was chasing me for work updates. But then 

September came, and so did the credit card statements.

The Lightbulb Moment

Coming back from that trip, something had shifted. Instead of throwing applications into the void and hoping for magic, I decided to actually use the one thing I had going for me: I knew people. Revolutionary concept, right? Why didn’t I think of this before? 

My new approach was stupidly simple:

• Stop making cold applications to faceless companies
• Start talking to actual humans
• Cast a wider net—not just traditional law firm roles, but in-house positions, compliance work, anything law-adjacent
• Reach out to old clients who actually knew what I could do

For roles that looked interesting but where I didn’t know anyone, I played detective. I’d find someone in my network who could make an introduction. Turns out, “Can you introduce me to Sarah at X company?” works a lot better than “Dear Hiring Manager.”

Small Wins, Big Shifts

This past week has been different. Instead of hiding behind perfectly crafted emails, I’ve been having actual conversations. Coffee meetings, phone calls, proper face-to-face chats where people can see I’m a real person, not just a LinkedIn profile. I’m keeping a spreadsheet now (yes, I’ve become that person) tracking everyone I meet, what we talked about, and when to follow up. It sounds corporate, but staying organised means these connections don’t fall through the cracks. The shift from anonymous applications to actual networking has already felt more human than months of digital rejection.

What I’m Learning

Here’s what nobody tells you about career transitions when you’re in your forties with kids: it’s not just about finding work. It’s about figuring out who you are when the thing that defined you for years suddenly disappears. Those months of rejection taught me something important—my worth isn’t determined by whether some algorithm likes my CV. And our summer reminded me that there’s a whole world beyond LinkedIn notifications and billing targets. 

It’s early days. I’m not there yet—I haven’t found a role—but I’m far more engaged with this new approach. It’s made me more motivated and optimistic than I’ve felt in months. Will I find something this week? This month? By the end of the year? Who knows? But for the first time since February, I feel like I’m moving in the right direction rather than just spinning my wheels. 

Sometimes the long way around turns out to be the shortest path home.