How I Read Job Applications

I don’t read every job application the same way. Over time, I’ve developed a rhythm that reflects the kind of team I want to build. It’s not scientific, but it is intentional.

I don’t treat résumés like scorecards. I skim them for signals, then look elsewhere to understand the person behind the paper. When something catches my eye, I shift from scanning to listening. I move from the bullet points to the person, looking for signs of thought, care, and lived experience.

1. I skim résumés, not study them

I glance at résumés quickly. I’m looking for patterns more than pedigree:

• How long did you stay at each role?
• What kinds of teams and tools have you worked with?
• Are there verbs that show initiative, growth, or care?

What I don’t care much about: prestigious logos, perfect formatting, or a linear climb. Pedigree can open doors, but it doesn’t tell me who you are. I don’t want to pass over talented people for superficial reasons—especially when those filters often reflect deeper patterns of exclusion or inequity because they didn’t attend the "right" school or work at the "right" company. That’s a loss—for them, and for the teams that missed out. A résumé is one lens—and not always the most honest or most generous one.

2. I read cover letters—especially if they’re human

I always read cover letters, or whatever takes their place—a note, a message, a personal paragraph. If you’ve taken the time to say why this role matters to you and how you think you can contribute, I’ll take the time to read it.

I’m listening for curiosity, alignment, and voice. Even a short message can show self-awareness and purpose. If you’ve taken the time to connect your story to the role or the company, that effort stands out. It tells me you’re not just looking for any job—you’re looking for the right fit, and you’re thinking seriously about what you bring to the table.

3. I value non-traditional paths

I’ve hired people who studied philosophy, took long detours, or learned on the job. Some of my best teammates didn’t “look good on paper.”

Non-traditional paths often bring resilience, perspective, and creativity—qualities that don’t always show up in traditional credentials. I value a plurality of voices and experiences because diverse teams see more, catch more, and build better. If we limit our search to the usual suspects, we risk recreating the same blind spots and barriers that have historically excluded people from opportunity. If your story has texture, I want to hear it. Some of the most successful, collaborative, and innovative people I’ve worked with came through the side door—not because they weren’t talented, but because the front door wasn’t built for them.

4. What stands out to me

I notice when an application feels thoughtful rather than performative. I’m drawn to signs that someone has actually built things, not just watched them get built. Staying long enough in a role to shape something—and take responsibility for it—matters to me. And I appreciate when people are honest about where they shine and where they’re still growing. That kind of clarity and humility tends to translate into strong teammates.

5. What gives me pause

I pause when I see language that sounds polished but says very little. Jargon without substance makes it hard to tell what you actually did. A vague or generic note—especially when we’ve written a thoughtful job post—can signal a lack of care or real interest. When someone has jumped between roles with no clear narrative or reflection, I wonder what they’re looking for and whether they’re ready to commit. And I try to be mindful of the line between confidence and arrogance; I want to see clarity and self-belief, not bravado or performance.

Closing

Reading applications is an act of hope. I’m not looking for a flawless candidate. I’m looking for someone ready to contribute, grow, and make something meaningful with others. If that’s you, I want to hear your story—even if it doesn’t fit the template. And if you’re a fellow hiring manager, I hope this encourages you to notice what you’re actually looking for—and who you might be missing.