A recruiter called me on Friday night.
She told me she'd seen my Instagram and loved that I had a portfolio.
She loved it even more when she realised I could identify gaps in audience understanding and brand messaging, write tailored copy, and film and edit content myself.
Basically, I could take an idea from strategy to execution.
She then proceeded to ask me how soon I could join the company, before we'd even discussed the salary package or anything else.
But there was one condition: I'd have to shut down my entire online presence.
Her reasoning? Having an online presence meant I could potentially receive opportunities elsewhere, whether freelance work, brand collaborations, or other job offers. And apparently, that's a risk the company takes very seriously.
She even went on to claim that this was a national law (which was a highly questionable claim).
I told her, "Thank you for the call, but I think we should leave the conversation here. I'll be honest, I'm not willing to do that."
She asked, "Do you want to think about it again?"
And I said, "Thank you very much for your time."
That was the end of the conversation.
But it got me thinking...What they consider a red flag might actually be one of my biggest assets.
We live in a time when having an online presence is almost like having your own billboard, or better yet, a living portfolio. It doesn't just show people what you've created. It gives them a glimpse into how you think, how you approach problems, how you turn ideas into something tangible, and even the values you stand for.
And for someone working in the creative industry, I think that's incredibly valuable.
Some people might say, "Oh, so you chose your cute little Instagram and wannabe influencer dream over a proper job? What a mistake."
But here's the thing...
I didn't build my online presence because I wanted to become an influencer. I started creating and sharing because I genuinely enjoyed it.
Along the way, I learned how to tell stories, understand audiences, work with brands, pitch ideas, create content, and turn those skills into actual paid opportunities. And none of that happened overnight.
It took years of experimenting, learning, making mistakes, putting myself out there, and figuring things out as I went.
I'm still learning, by the way.
But this little corner of the internet has already given me something I never imagined it would.
As a self-proclaimed house cat who once dreaded waking up for a corporate job, it gave me the opportunity to change careers and build a life where I actually enjoy what I do.
Of course, I still want to grow professionally. I want to work with good teams, learn from people who are better than me, take on bigger projects, and become a better creative strategist.
I'm not against having a job. Far from it.
But I don't think professional growth should have to come at the expense of everything I've built outside of a job. Especially when those very experiences are part of what made me a valuable candidate in the first place.
And that's the part that didn't make sense to me.
You saw my work, liked my skills, and appreciated the fact that I could do all these things. But then you wanted me to shut down one of the very platforms that helped me develop and demonstrate those skills?
I understand that companies have legitimate concerns about conflicts of interest, confidentiality, and employees taking on outside work. Those are things I'm perfectly willing to discuss and respect. But asking someone to erase their entire online presence is a completely different conversation.
Because to me, my Instagram isn't just an Instagram account. It's years of work, a record of my growth, a portfolio, a network, and a door to opportunities I wouldn't otherwise have had.
And I don't think it's unreasonable to want to protect that.
Maybe turning down the opportunity was a mistake. Maybe it wasn't. But I'd rather take my chances with something I've spent years building than give it all up for a job that doesn't see its value.
A job can be a wonderful opportunity. But so is the freedom to keep building something of your own.
And I'm not ready to trade the latter for a cage, no matter how nicely the cage is presented.
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