There’s a certain kind of story the internet instantly falls for. You know the format: someone with just enough status to sound unquestionable, simplicity, a symbolic detail like a black coffee, a minimalist detail like a black coffee, and one sharp sentence delivered with enough detachment to pass for life philosophy: »I stopped adding sugar to things that were bitter.«
Try this tonight. Turn off the lights, close the curtains, and wait until the room is as dark as it gets. Then keep your eyes open and look into the darkness. You might expect to see black — complete absence, the visual equivalent of silence. But that is not what happens.
You did everything right. You studied. You worked hard. You built the résumé people told you to build. Degree, internships, late nights, promotions. The quiet promise behind all of it was simple: if you put in the effort, you would eventually gain something that feels like freedom.
»Dump the first espresso of the day.« That was the advice, I saw in a reel the other day. A guy standing in a spotless kitchen, speaking with quiet authority. No drama, no irony. Just a clean instruction. Even if you single dose. Even if you weigh your beans to the tenth of a gram. The coffee sitting in the dead space of the grinder overnight will have oxidized. It will dull the shot. It is not worth drinking.
There’s this story we keep telling about the job market: it’s tough out there. Fine. I can live with that. And I’m saying this as someone currently in it — reorienting on the way to my next role. I’m having conversations, doing calls, sending applications, waiting, looking closely at what’s out there. And there’s this slightly surreal experience of trying to meet a system where it is, without letting it define me.