November 24, 2025
When friends of Laura Podesta are unemployed, they ping her with questions: Hey, how did you pivot so quickly? What’d you do to get your new job? Did you tell people that you got laid off? Not exactly, she says: “You have to say that you’re available to do what you’re best at.” Her main advice: Get out there.
As you can imagine, her friends, some of whom have churned out more than 150 job applications without receiving a single reply, might find this answer a little frustrating. But they continue to ask for Podesta’s advice. And no, she’s not a career coach. It just so happens that in a two-decade career—through recessions, pandemics and, yes, even today’s brutal job market—she has only been unemployed for a total of 10 business days. She will tell you how she left a television news job on a Friday and began a PR stint the next Monday. How she was laid off once—but had another role lined up five days later. When she shifted to launching her own agency, she immediately signed clients, who keep her busy. As she puts it, “I’ve always had a fair amount of work.” So much, in fact, that she had to let a client go. “I’ve been lucky in that way,” she says.
Always eager to help, she might tell a recently laid off friend, “You want to climb under the covers and not come out, but that’s the opposite of what you should do!” It’s easy for those who have been unemployed to look at her askance. As her hiring record suggests, she is delightful—exactly the type of smart, upbeat person one wants on their team.
There are a handful of people who seem to be living in an alternate universe, almost a paradise.
We all know someone—or some people—who has been unemployed for the better part of this year. Among knowledge workers, you hear their pain: applying for jobs with thousands of applications, pestering anyone for help, and waiting months, even years, just for an interview. In all, one-quarter of unemployed people nationally have been jobless for 27 weeks or longer; for men over age 55, it’s 33 weeks. That’s eight months. With odds like that, it’s not surprising that a growing army of candidates are not only pulling their hair out—they’re giving up.
Yet amid all of this mayhem and despair, a handful of folks seem to be living in an alternate universe, almost a paradise. They’re coasting along, easily shifting from job to job, with jaunts to Greece and Wimbledon in between. Call them “always hired.” Or just call them something else—blessed, lucky, carefree. Their profiles span genders and ages and industries, and if you had to ask them, not all of them were heroes in their prior jobs. But they share an enviable trait: They stay at a job because they want to, not because they must. When they’re feeling a wee bit stale, they switch—horror headlines about endless job searches be damned. Even HR pros are mystified by these career chameleons, who seem to operate in a world where economic downturns don’t apply and layoff announcements just bounce off them.
While the rest of us are frantically updating our LinkedIn profiles and rehearsing elevator pitches, they’re fielding unsolicited offers from headhunters. Their résumés read like a greatest-hits list of lucrative career decisions. Most frustratingly, the entire concept of unemployment is foreign to them. The question is, how exactly do they do it?
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For centuries, men with flair like Podesta’s—career aces—cruised from job to job, as needed, via the old-boy network. This exclusive system of informal connections was structured around elite schools and families, reinforced through private clubs and fraternities, and maintained through golf and tennis, weddings and funerals. Long before a company publicly announced a job opening (if it announced it at all), peers told each other about the open seat, and recommended each other for the role. A word-of-mouth recommendation from the right person sealed the deal.
This system often bypassed formal application processes altogether, and gave friends of friends significant advantages, while icing out talented workers who often didn’t know a job was open until they read about the new hire in the newspaper. These roles were commonly onboarded without ever going through human resources. The tacit agreement was that peers would help each other reciprocally, and they did.
“People who always get hired aren’t necessarily the most qualified.”
This system began to slip in the 1960s, as equal-opportunity labor legislation loosened the old-boy network’s stranglehold on top jobs. In the decades that followed, the growth of workplace diversity as a business advantage further loosened its grip, as did the influx of women into the workplace. To be sure, substantial vestiges of that system still operate. As recently as 15 years ago, high-level employees looking to fill a position simply called their friends and asked for recommendations. But today’s hiring practices involve a much more rigorous process, regardless of whether a candidate personally knows the employer. There are applications to fill out, three or five interviews to attend, references to collect, companies to study, strategies to articulate. Even for the most well-qualified applicant, it can be a rather brutal process.
But not for Sam Wright, head of operations and partnerships at tech platform Huntr. He’s been out of school for a dozen years, and somehow, he says, he “always lands on his feet.” He’s leapt smoothly from one job to the next—four times in those dozen years—including a transition into tech despite having no industry network or connections. How do people like him triumph, again and again?




