I recently came across a contract opportunity on LinkedIn that caught my attention. The organization was doing work I believed in, and I could see how my experience might contribute to its goals. The posting was labeled Easy Apply, so I decided to explore it.
I've pursued plenty of business opportunities over the years, and I understand that securing new work takes effort. But this experience made me question how much time we're now expected to invest before we even know whether an opportunity is worth pursuing.
The application began with my résumé. Then came a cover letter, followed by a series of questions that went well beyond basic qualifications. I was asked to explain how I approach ethical decisions in marketing, work with creative teams, and measure business impact. One question asked what I would focus on during my first 90 days and how I would determine whether those efforts were successful.
These weren't unreasonable questions, particularly for a senior-level engagement. But answering them thoughtfully required research and careful consideration, and I wasn't going to submit generic responses simply to complete the application, so I spent hours on them.
What struck me afterward was how little I knew about the full process when I started. That's something I've encountered in other application systems, too. You upload a résumé, only to manually enter information that's already there. You work through employment history, education, and skills before you can even see what additional questions might be waiting. By the time you discover the full requirements, you've already invested enough time that abandoning the application feels wasteful.
I wish more organizations would tell people upfront what the process involves and approximately how much time they should expect to spend. That information would help professionals make better decisions about which opportunities to pursue.
When Interest Changes the Equation
In this particular case, I was willing to invest more than I ordinarily might because I believed in the organization. I've noticed that about myself over the years. When something genuinely interests me, I naturally go beyond what's required. I want to understand the business, think through its challenges, and demonstrate what I could contribute. That inclination has served me well professionally, but it also makes it easier to rationalize a growing time commitment.
After submitting the application, I was invited to interview. I prepared extensively, researching the organization and considering how my experience aligned with what it needed. During that conversation, I learned that I was among an early group of candidates. If I advanced, there would be additional interviews with other stakeholders and potentially a presentation to senior leadership. I remember thinking about how much time I'd already invested and how much more might be required.
None of these steps was necessarily unreasonable on its own. The organization was seeking someone who could take on significant strategic responsibilities, and it had every reason to evaluate candidates carefully. But collectively, the process was becoming a substantial undertaking for a contract engagement, and it left me wondering whether enthusiasm for an opportunity can sometimes make us less attentive to the investment we're being asked to make.
The Commitment Goes Both Ways
Compensation came up too. I had provided my proposed hourly rate during the application process, so the organization knew that figure before inviting me to interview, yet near the end of our conversation I was asked whether there was flexibility. There was, and I said so. I've negotiated enough engagements to know that scope, responsibilities, and expectations all influence what an arrangement should cost.
But contract rates aren't the same as hourly wages. Independent professionals have to account for benefits, taxes, business expenses, and the uncertainty of time-limited work. When a contract also requires becoming deeply familiar with an organization, building internal relationships, and contributing to ongoing strategic decisions, there is an investment beyond the hours spent producing deliverables. That doesn't mean an organization shouldn't negotiate. Budget constraints are real, and compensation is a legitimate part of any business discussion.
What interested me was the combination of expectations. The organization was looking for someone who could operate at a senior level, become integrated into its operations, and navigate an extensive selection process, all within a contract arrangement. At what point should the prospective contractor begin evaluating whether the commitment makes sense for them?
I don't think the answer is simply to walk away whenever a process becomes demanding. Some opportunities genuinely warrant more investment. But I do think it's worth recognizing how much we're agreeing to give before there's any commitment on the other side.
What Happens When the Process Ends?
Ultimately, the opportunity didn't move forward. I understand that. I've been on the other side of hiring decisions and know that even highly qualified people aren't necessarily right for every opportunity.
Still, the experience raised another question about how organizations treat the people they're considering. After spending hours preparing written responses, researching the business, and participating in an interview, I received a standard rejection without any specific explanation. I don't expect every applicant to receive individualized feedback, especially when organizations are managing a large volume of interest, and I recognize there may be legitimate reasons hiring teams can't share the details behind their decisions. But I do think the amount of effort requested from candidates should factor into how organizations communicate with them.
There is a difference between someone submitting a résumé and someone spending significant time demonstrating how they would approach the organization's actual business challenges. Neither person is entitled to an offer, but when a process requires a deeper investment, I think there's a reasonable expectation that the communication surrounding it will reflect that.
A selection process is often one of the earliest experiences someone has with an organization's culture. Even when the relationship doesn't move forward, that experience can shape how the person views the business.
What Are We Really Evaluating?
I've spent enough time on both sides of these conversations to understand why organizations want to be thorough. Making the wrong decision can be costly, especially when someone will have substantial responsibility or represent the business publicly. But I also wonder whether we've come to equate more steps with better evaluation. More questions, more interviews, and more demonstrations of expertise may provide additional information. They also require additional time from people who may already be managing demanding professional responsibilities, and sometimes, as I experienced, the extent of that commitment isn't clear until the process is well underway.
I don't regret pursuing the opportunity. I believed in the organization's work, and I made a conscious decision to invest my time because I thought the potential relationship was worthwhile. What I question is whether we give enough consideration to the balance of that investment. Organizations need to understand who they're bringing into their businesses, and professionals need to understand what they're agreeing to pursue. Both have legitimate interests, and neither should be expected to make an unlimited commitment simply to keep the conversation going.
For me, the experience was a reminder that enthusiasm and professional judgment sometimes pull in different directions. I can believe deeply in an opportunity and still question whether the process surrounding it makes sense. I don't think the goal should be to make every selection process easier. I think it should be to make the effort worthwhile and the expectations clear enough that both sides can decide whether to continue.
