There’s Always a Buyer: What Junk Mail Can Teach You About Recruiting and Job Searching

The year was 2017, and I was nursing a Four Peaks Lager at the upstairs bar of Richardson’s on 16th Street. Across from me sat my wife, Cristina, looking as lovely as ever, and we were mid-conversation when a voice crept in over my shoulder like a telegram from a bygone era.

“Hot one today, eh?” It was less of a question and more of a statement—like a man confirming the obvious, a formality before getting to the real message.

We nodded, murmuring something polite before returning to our conversation. But he wasn’t done.

“Nick’s the name, and paper’s my game, ya see?”

My wife and I exchanged glances—big, surprised, “are-we-about-to-get-sold-something?” glances. His voice had that old-school cadence, like he had stepped out of a 1940s radio drama, yet here he was, drinking a strawberry martini with a twist.

“Is it now?” I replied, intrigued.

“Do you work for Dunder Mifflin?” Cristina asked, a sly smile playing on her lips.

<A pause took place.>

“They’re a competitor of mine. I’m in sales.”

My wife, ever the diplomat, filled the air. “I love that show.”

He wasn’t interested in pop culture, though. He had a mission.

“Mailers, fliers, brochures,” he listed off, punctuating each word with a sip of his drink.

I leaned in, intrigued now, ready to play along. “Oh man, what’s the deal with all the junk mail we get? Save a tree, am I right?”

The man, who bore a striking resemblance to Zach Galifianakis if he had spent a few years studying under P.T. Barnum, let out a hearty chuckle—deep, booming, the kind that shakes a room. For a second, I wondered if he was about to hand me a candy cane and tell me he’d see me next December.

Then, just as suddenly, his laughter stopped. He stared, sizing me up, eyes narrowed like a predator waiting for his prey to flinch.

“There is no such thing as junk mail,” he finally declared, as if he had just said something as undeniable as gravity itself.

“Junk mail?” I raised an eyebrow. “Tell that to my recycling bin.”

His expression didn’t change. He had heard this before. “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” he said, sipping his drink again. “You think companies would spend millions every week sending out mail if no one was reading it?”

I leaned back, giving that some thought. I wasn’t in the market for a new roof, an extended car warranty, or a hot deal on pre-owned furniture, but somebody was.

“That’s the game,” Nick continued. “It ain’t about whether you want it. It’s about finding the people who do.”

And that was it. Right there, the golden rule of sales.

Nick knew what so many recruiters, salespeople, and business owners struggle to remember—rejection is inevitable, but irrelevance is a choice. If someone tells you no, it doesn’t mean the offer is worthless. It just means they weren’t the right buyer.

In recruiting, I’ve seen it happen time and time again. A company is desperate for a candidate with a rare skill set, but they keep striking out. They get discouraged. They start thinking the right person doesn’t exist. But the reality is, they just haven’t found the right buyer—the person looking for exactly what they’re offering.

Same goes for job seekers. You send out a hundred résumés, and the silence is deafening. You start wondering if you’re cut out for this, if your skills are really in demand. But the truth is, you’re not getting rejected—you just haven’t landed in the right inbox yet.

Nick had figured it out. Junk mail isn’t junk to the person who needs what’s in that envelope. And a “no” isn’t failure—it’s just the wrong address.

So the next time you hear rejection, don’t take it personally. Keep going. Keep knocking. Because out there, somewhere, is the person who’s been waiting for exactly what you have to offer.

And that, my friends, is the game.