The Language of Denial

I predict that by the end of this quarter, we will see an official requisition for an “Entry-Level Time Traveler” who must also possess 7 years of specialized experience in predicting global market shifts and negotiating with supply chain deities. It won’t pay more than $47,000 annually, and it will be non-negotiable. That’s the reality we’ve built-a labor market where the primary communication tool between employer and talent is a document written purely in the language of denial.

I’ve sat in those rooms. Everyone has an agenda, usually one they can’t articulate directly. The Hiring Manager, let’s call her Sarah, is trying to solve the chronic understaffing and turnover problem that is *her* fault, but she knows that if she demands perfection on paper, HR will bear the blame for not finding it. So she throws in buzzwords: “Must have demonstrable expertise in Hyper-Focused Agile Scaling Methodology (HFASM).” HR, meanwhile, is fixated on the legal liability and wants the salary anchored at the 27th percentile of the market data they bought in 2017. Sarah wants to add: “Proficient in integrating quantum AI algorithms into legacy SQL systems.” HR counters weakly: “But that tech has only existed for two years, Sarah.” Sarah stares back, stone-faced. “Then they should have started earlier.”

Fantasy Generation Exercise

This isn’t just bureaucratic sloppiness; it’s an active fantasy generation exercise. The job description (JD) is the modern equivalent of drawing a protective circle on the floor and listing all the demons you hope to conjure-and also listing all the demons you desperately hope to keep out.

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We are demanding 5 years of professional production experience with a technology that celebrated its two-year anniversary last Tuesday. It’s magical thinking in the darkest sense.

What happens is that we waste $777 in advertising for every single listing, attracting a field of exactly zero viable candidates because the perfect purple squirrel doesn’t exist. I should know. For a long time, I was Sarah. I’d write JDs that were impenetrable fortresses of technical jargon. My stated goal was “filtering out the fakers.” My real goal, the one I didn’t admit even to myself until much later, was shielding my own lack of organizational planning. If the candidate failed, it was because they didn’t meet the exacting 237 bullet points, not because the job itself was structurally unsound or the team was toxic.

Radical Acceptance: The Antidote to Denial

That’s where Peter G. comes in. Peter G. is an addiction recovery coach I met through a bizarre networking event-a tangent, I know, but bear with me. Peter’s entire philosophy is centered on radical acceptance. He deals with people who are clinging to a narrative that their life *should be* perfect, that the past *should have been* different. His first principle is: “You cannot solve a problem you refuse to accurately identify.” He argues that denial isn’t a river in Egypt; it’s the most expensive resource a person-or a company-can consume.

If Peter looked at our modern hiring process, he wouldn’t see a staffing challenge; he’d see systemic organizational denial. The JD is a massive, detailed lie that prevents the organization from asking the only question that matters: *What is the fundamental business problem we are actually trying to solve, and what is the minimum viable human skillset required to start solving it?*

The moment you strip away the fantasy and accept the reality-that great talent is scarce, that internal processes are messy, and that training is a necessary investment, not a preventable cost-you radically simplify the JD. Instead of demanding a unicorn, you describe a horse that can run fast and is willing to learn how to fly.

Precision Over Poetry

This is why, when I look at companies that actually build things-tangible, complex, real-world machines-I see a necessary groundedness. They can’t afford magical thinking. You can’t tell a plastic profile extrusion machine to operate on five years of non-existent experience. The tolerances are tight, the physics are absolute, and the reality of the material demands precision over poetry.

That kind of real-world precision and focus on deliverable engineering, the exact opposite of the JD fantasy, is what differentiates reliable manufacturing from aspirational slideshows. This groundedness is what successful engineering firms-like those specializing in complex solutions like MIDTECH-embrace, because reality, not fantasy, dictates success.

The Candidate Shame Spiral

Magical thinking costs money. It costs time. It costs the organization credibility. Most importantly, it creates what I call the Candidate Shame Spiral. A highly competent person reads the JD, sees the ridiculous requirements (e.g., “must have written 7 million lines of code in a language invented last Tuesday”), and assumes they are the deficient ones, not the job writer. They self-select out. We have convinced the best people that they are not good enough for jobs that don’t even need to exist in the first place.

The core contradiction of the modern job market is this: companies claim they want innovation and disruptive thinkers, but their first test-the JD-is designed to screen for compliance, conformity, and impossible levels of pre-existing mastery. They say “Think outside the box,” but the application form requires you to tick 7 specific boxes that don’t make any sense.