When "No" is a Shield

Forgiving Ourselves for Trying to Hustle Past the Red Flags

A few seconds ago, I shared a quick note: Don’t overlook what you thought you saw or felt. Trust your intuition. Trust your senses or instincts. Decide what you want to do with that information and move accordingly or in alignment with your values.

I want to pull back the curtain on where that came from, because the job search market right now is revealing some ugly truths.

Lately, my search process has felt less like a mutual exploration of leadership and more like navigating a gauntlet of stale, scarce, and ableist mindsets. I have sat through senior-level interviews where hiring managers never gave me a genuine shot to tell my story. I’ve dealt with terrible logistics, inaccessible physical facilities, and environments that lack even a baseline understanding of neuro-inclusivity.

In one instance, interviewing for a diversity and inclusion role, I was subjected to a rapid-fire interrogation—20 questions crammed into a 20-minute window—before being abruptly hurried off the phone. In another, I was subtly corrected for letting my eyes dart upward while I was actively synthesizing a complex thought and presenting an answer.

Let’s call that what it is: shortsighted, uneducated, and deeply ableist.

When organizations operate from a place of fear and scarcity, they treat human beings like transactions to be processed rather than leaders to be partnered with.

But here is where the shift happens.

In the moment, during each of those conversations, my intuition was firing. I had those sudden “aha” moments where the veneer cracked and I saw the real them. But because we are trained to survive, because we want the outcome, I found myself willing to hustle past the red flags. I tried to surpass what my senses were explicitly warning me about.

In hindsight, looking back at the roles that didn’t materialize, I don’t feel rejection. I feel immense gratitude.

Those failed returns on my energy allowed me to see that God is still not playing about me. He will not allow me to return to the kinds of environments that once ran me into the ground, or worse, compromised my actual physical health.

When we respect the “lack” of a job offer, we begin to respect ourselves. We realize that the closed door wasn’t a barrier keeping us out; it was a shield keeping us safe from repeating our past.

The next time you feel that subtle tug in your gut during a meeting, an interview, or a negotiation—do not try to hustle past it. Trust what your body and your spirit are telling you. Decide what you want to do with that data, and move in radical alignment with your worth. You are too expensive to be bought by a toxic environment.