The dream job that wasn't...
Picture this…
You get an email or InMail. It’s an interview request. The company you’ve been following for years. The role that checks every box on paper.
You say yes immediately.
First round goes well. Really well. The hiring manager gets you. The work sounds exactly like what you want to be doing. You’re already picturing yourself there.
Second round. You meet the team. They’re fine. Not quite the energy you expected, but maybe they’re just having an off day. One person seems checked out. Another cuts someone off mid-sentence. You file it away but don’t dwell on it.
Third round with leadership. They’re impressive. Credentials for days. But something feels slightly off about how they talk about the team. Little comments that sound like jokes but land weird. You tell yourself you’re overthinking it.
They move fast. You like that they move fast. It feels like momentum. Like they really want you.
The offer comes through on a Friday afternoon. The title is right. The money is good. Better than good, actually. Better than where you are now.
Then you see it. In-office requirement. Five days a week. Two hours to commute each way.
You have a six-month-old at home. Your partner just went back to work. You’ve been remote for so long in other roles. You’ve been doing the daycare drop-offs. The bedtime routine. The stuff that matters.
Four hours a day in the car means leaving before your kid wakes up and getting home after dinner. It means weekends spent recovering instead of being present. It means your partner handling everything alone.
But this is the company. The role. The opportunity you’ve been waiting for.
You tell yourself it’s temporary. Once you prove yourself, you can negotiate remote days. Lots of people do it. You’ll make it work.
The commute isn’t that bad. Podcasts. Audiobooks. You’ll use the time productively. Some people have it worse.
Your family will understand. This is a career move. It benefits everyone in the long run. Short-term sacrifice for long-term gain.
You can handle it. You’ve handled worse. You’re capable. You’re resilient. This is what ambitious people do.
Here’s what nobody asks in this moment. Why are you trying to convince yourself?
If this were actually right, you wouldn’t need to rationalize it. You wouldn’t be making lists of reasons it could work. You wouldn’t be gaming out best-case scenarios where everything magically falls into place.
The red flags from the interviews? They’re still there. The commute? It’s not going to feel shorter three months in. Your family situation? It’s not going to get easier when you’re exhausted and resentful.
But the offer is sitting there. Waiting. And saying no feels like giving up on something you wanted.
Dream jobs that require you to ignore YOUR reality aren’t dream jobs. They’re fantasies. And fantasies don’t hold up when you’re sitting in traffic at 6 AM realizing you forgot to say goodbye to your kid again.
The companies worth working for don’t ask you to choose between the work and your life. They figure it out. They’re flexible because they’re smart enough to know that burned-out, resentful employees don’t do great work.
And those small red flags? They don’t get smaller once you’re inside. They get bigger. That person who seemed checked out becomes your project partner. Those weird comments from leadership become your daily reality. The “off day” you witnessed turns out to be the standard energy level.
You know what you should do. You’ve probably known since you saw the offer.
The question isn’t whether this job is right. It’s whether you’re willing to admit it’s not.
Saying no feels like failure. Like you’re not tough enough. Not committed enough. Not willing to do what it takes.
But taking the wrong job doesn’t make you successful. It just makes you unavailable for the right one when it shows up.
Maybe you take it anyway. Maybe the money is too good to pass up. Maybe you convince yourself you can make it work. Maybe you’re right.
Or maybe six months from now, you’re exhausted, disconnected from your family, and realizing the company culture is exactly what those red flags warned you about. And now you’re job hunting again, except this time you’re doing it while commuting four hours a day.
I’m not here to tell you what to do. I don’t know your financial situation. I don’t know what’s riding on this decision. I don’t know if this opportunity comes around again.
But I know this. The cost of the wrong yes is always higher than the cost of the right no.
What are you actually saying yes to? And what are you giving up to get it?