Most people in tech have only searched for jobs in a hot market. Here’s the playbook for when it’s not.Excerpt from my paid Substack column, Her Edge. Read the full post here.
If you’ve sent out dozens of applications and heard nothing, that’s not a reflection of your worth or your skills. The game just changed, and nobody told you.
If you entered tech after 2007, you’ve mostly job-searched in a market that was working in your favor. For fifteen years, almost any approach to getting a job worked.
Then 2022 happened. And it’s only gotten harder since.
I know what this feels like. I graduated into the last market that was this bad.
It was 2003.
Five Guys and a Co-op (No, not those 5 guys)I was finishing my Master’s degree in Cryptography and planning a wedding.
My wedding!
To my lovely husband of 22 years now, Gareth. We met in the very first week of our Master’s program in September 2002 at the University of Waterloo. He was also a mathie.
He was from New Zealand, on a student visa that would run out eight months after our wedding. To sponsor him for Canadian permanent residency, I needed to prove I could financially support us both.
To do that, I needed a job.
The only problem was that the job market had completely fallen apart.
The dot-com bubble had burst three years earlier, and by late 2003, the tech sector was still at rock bottom. The workforce had shrunk 17.8% from its peak.
My background was narrow. I had an undergraduate degree in Math with some CS courses. Three co-op terms as a security software developer at the Communications Security Establishment, Canada’s version of the NSA, and a Master’s in cryptography from the University of Waterloo.
That’s not the typical resume for a Software Developer. I needed a security role, and in that market, finding one felt almost impossible.
I applied to every job I could find online. I got crickets.
I’d originally planned to work at the CSE after graduation. Top secret work doing leading-edge crypto and cybersecurity work.
It’s why I got a master’s degree in the first place. But those positions were all in Ottawa, and Gareth still had eight months left of his degree at UW.
Ottawa wasn’t an option anymore.
So there I was. No job. A wedding in December. And a husband-to-be, whose legal right to stay in Canada depended on me figuring it out.
That summer, my supervisor had suggested I attend a small cryptography conference hosted on campus. At the conference, I met five guys who worked at a company called Research In Motion (RIM). The company that created the BlackBerry and would eventually change its name to match.
In Waterloo, RIM was already a hot employer. The place everyone wanted to get into. Outside of Waterloo, almost nobody had heard of it yet.
These guys worked on a team called CryptoDev, responsible for all cybersecurity programming on the BlackBerry device and its backend servers.
At the conference dinner, they invited me to sit at their table.
What happened at that dinner was one of the strangest things I had ever seen.
All five of them sat there with their heads down, looking at their BlackBerries and typing. The entire meal! Not talking. Not conversing. Just typing.
I didn’t even own a cell phone yet. It would be like a time traveler from 1990 sitting at our dinner tables today.
Normal now. Bizarre then.
I also met a UW co-op student working with CryptoDev that night. We chatted, the conference ended, and I went back to school and kept working on my Master’s thesis. They went back to RIM.
By October, I was applying to jobs in a panic. RIM had done major layoffs in late 2002 and had a hiring freeze all of 2003. I applied to their site anyway.
I went to job fairs and handed in my resume. Nothing. Not even an acknowledgment.
November arrived. Gareth and I were getting married on December 27th. I was running out of time.
♦Cartoon version of me and the co-op student generated with ChatGPT.Then one day, I was walking to school and ran into the co-op from the conference in a parking lot. He asked how things were going.
I told him the truth.
I had been applying everywhere and hearing nothing. I was getting married in weeks. My future husband wasn’t a Canadian citizen, and I needed a job to sponsor him.
He said:
“Why don’t you email me your resume? I’ll forward it to my boss. I don’t know if there are any openings on the team, but he’s a good guy and he’s always looking for talented people.”
That was the whole conversation. A few minutes in a parking lot in November 2003.
A week later, I entered the RIM buildings for an interview. It went well and a few weeks later, the call came. They were offering me a position.
The salary they quoted was $62,000.
That was the only time in my career I did not negotiate. Not even a little. I simply said yes.
I was a grad student who had never made more than $20,000 a year. When someone offers a number like that, your jaw drops and your brain stops working.
I got married Dec 27, 2003, and started at RIM on January 10th, 2004. I was one of the first people hired after their major freeze lifted, and I worked there for eight years.
The year I started, we celebrated selling one million BlackBerrys. Our Christmas party had the slogan: 2 million thumbs can’t be wrong. By the time I left, over 80 million people were using BlackBerries. My code lived on every one of them.
But here’s the part I want to stay with.
I had already applied to RIM. Nothing happened. What opened the door was a conversation at a conference dinner and five minutes in a parking lot with someone willing to say my name to the right person.
The market heated up after that. But I kept using the same approach because it worked in a hot market, too.
They Came LookingI didn’t find my second job. It found me.
A recruiter was actively poaching people from RIM. They found me on LinkedIn. I had kept my profile current with my title, my work, and my skills all up to date. That’s why they called.
A lot of people only updated LinkedIN when they are thinking of moving on to a new job. Every year, I would take a look at mine and update it. It paid off.
Sadly, the job wasn’t a good fit. Within ten months, I knew I needed to move on. That’s a story for another day — a juicy one — but not for today.
But the lesson stayed with me: be findable. Keep your profile current. You never know who is looking.
An Old ConnectionIn the spring of 2012, I started looking. I applied online for a development manager position at a local company called D2L and heard nothing for two weeks.
So I went to LinkedIn to see if I knew anyone at D2L.
I did. There was a director there that I had worked with at BlackBerry.
I sent him a message:
“Hey, I’ve applied to this dev manager position. I don’t know if you know the hiring manager, but I was wondering if you’d be willing to put in a good word.”
He walked over to the hiring manager’s desk that same day and said:
“Dinah Davis applied for the dev manager job. I worked with her at BlackBerry. She’s really good. You should give her an interview.”
That’s all he did. He got me my foot in the door. I did the rest. The interviews went so well that in the end, two directors were fighting over which one would get me.
I spent two and a half years at D2L and was promoted to Senior Manager while there. But I could see the glass ceiling from where I was standing.
So I started quietly looking.
I Told Her I Wanted Her JobI was clear about one thing: I would only leave for a director title or above. I liked my teams. I just couldn’t see a future where the promotion was coming on any timeline that made sense to me.
I also knew what I was looking for.
I had watched BlackBerry grow from under a million users to hundreds of millions in eight years. I contributed to that, even if in a small way. I wanted to do it again, but this time in a more influential seat.
So I built a pitch around it. Specific and honest. And I started going to local events and telling people exactly what I was looking for.
Not just “I’m looking for a new job.”
Something much more specific than that. My pitch was:
“I’m looking for a company just coming out of startup chaos. One that needs someone to build the scaffolding to grow and scale software teams.
I build software teams that are happy, high-performing, and focused. I remove the chaos. I protect their time. My teams at BlackBerry were the top teams. My teams at D2L are the top teams.
That’s what I do and I’m looking to do it again.”
My network connected me with three companies. All three had something like the role I was describing.
One was a cybersecurity company I was genuinely interested in. But it became clear through the process that they weren’t going to give me anything above manager.
I passed.
The second was Thalmic Labs, one of the hottest companies in Waterloo at the time. They wanted a director of engineering for a secret project they couldn’t tell me about.
I interviewed.
The third was Arctic Wolf.
The same week I started looking, I was volunteering at a Think About Math event for Grade 9 girls, the same event where Code Like a Girl was born. We sat at tables with posters behind us listing our job titles and what we did. Small groups of girls rotated through to talk to us.
Across the room, I noticed a poster that said VP of R&D.
Before the end of the night, I walked over and introduced myself to the woman sitting in front of it. Her name was Kim Tremblay. I told her I wanted to do her job someday and asked if she’d have lunch with me.
She said yes, and we set up a time. Then a snowstorm hit, and our first lunch got canceled. We pushed it back two weeks.
The day of the rescheduled lunch, one hour before I was supposed to meet Kim, my CTO pulled me into a room and told me I would not be getting the director role I had been working toward. In front of my product manager.
I wasn’t entirely surprised. I had felt the ceiling for a while. It’s why I started looking for a new role. But hearing it out loud, in that room, in front of a colleague, made it real.
I was so frustrated and hurt that he would do that in front of my product manager.
I walked into that lunch and told Kim everything. What had just happened. What I was looking for. And why I was ready.
About halfway through, she stopped me and said.
“You should come work for me.”
I thought she was joking. Little did I know that Kim does not joke. Not about things like this. She looked at me and said:
“I’m serious. I need a dev manager to help me grow and scale. You want a director title? I have no problem giving you that. Our CEO is actually in town this week. Come meet him.”
A week later, I had two offers in my hands. One each from Arctic Wolf and Thalmic Labs.
Thalmic had more local name recognition and momentum; they were doing cool things. The downside was that it was run by three twenty-something guys in their first company. Great guys, but they didn’t have a lot of previous experience running a company.
No one I knew had even heard of Arctic Wolf. The whole company was only 35 people.
But it had two seasoned and previously successful entrepreneurs. Arctic Wolf offered me more stock and 50% more salary. On top of that, Kim told me her goal was to retire in two or three years, and then I’d be taking over for her. Finally, it would allow me to go back to my roots, back to cybersecurity.
That wasn’t a hard decision. I chose Arctic Wolf.
It turned out to be the right one.
Arctic Wolf hit unicorn status in 2020. When I left in 2023, the company was valued at four billion dollars. The sale of my privately held stocks allowed me to retire and work on Code Like a Girl full-time.
Four corporate jobs. Four different doors.
Every one of them opened by staying visible, staying connected, and knowing what I was looking for.
Why I’m Sharing this with You NowI’ve been thinking about all of this lately because of the women I’m mentoring right now. Many of them are weighing whether to stay or go. Some have been waiting years for promotions that aren’t coming. They’re qualified. They’re ready. And they’re watching a job market that has made moving feel terrifying.
They’re not wrong to be scared.
In 2025, 245,953 tech workers were laid off. So far in 2026, another 121,111 have already been cut. That’s 961 people a day, and the year has barely started.
Tech job postings in the U.S. are down 36% from February 2020 and recent CS grads are facing 6.1% unemployment, more than double the overall rate.
Last week, even Arctic Wolf laid off 250 people. This week, I posted on LinkedIn asking if anyone was hiring. Within four hours, eleven employers had reached out looking for talent. The network works both ways.
One of the 250 people laid off from Arctic Wolf last week is a friend of mine. A few days later, I heard he already had a verbal offer and four interviews in progress.
He hadn’t applied for a single job.
That’s the network working in real time.
This is not the hot market of 2021. This feels a lot like 2003. And in 2003, applying online was about as effective as shouting into the void. Employers are struggling too. They’re drowning in applications and don’t know where to look.
That’s why networking is so powerful. Both ways.
What worked then still works now.
To read more about the framework I used and how you can use it too follow the link below.
Her Edge: The Job Search Playbook You Learned Doesn't Work Anymore
♦Her Edge: The Job Search Playbook You Learned Doesn’t Work Anymore was originally published in Code Like A Girl on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.