I thought accepting a part-time job would be the easy part.
Instead, I spent nearly a week trying to convince software that I existed.

The job itself was straightforward. The hiring process was anything but. Before I could begin working, I was required to upload identification, create online accounts, complete electronic forms, and verify my identity through a remote system. Instructions contradicted one another. Documents that any human resources employee could have reviewed in seconds were repeatedly rejected. Support calls led from one representative to another, but rarely to a solution.

At one point, I held my state-issued identification card up to my laptop camera while a remote representative tried to verify that I was who I claimed to be.

I couldn't help wondering when getting hired had become more complicated than doing the job.

A few weeks later, I signed up for a small freelance project online. Once again, I was asked to verify my identity by photographing the same state-issued identification card. I followed every instruction. Good lighting. Sharp image. Correct angles.

The software rejected it anyway.

Not because the identification was invalid, but because the system couldn't properly read it. Rather than sending my application to a person for review, my account was simply disabled.

A computer had decided I wasn't me.

That sentence would have sounded absurd a decade ago. Today, it barely raises an eyebrow.

These experiences aren't unusual. Millions of Americans encounter some version of them every year. Before they can demonstrate reliability, experience, or character, they must first navigate an obstacle course of portals, passwords, verification systems, personality assessments, and automated screening.

When something goes wrong, there is often no hiring manager to call, no local office to visit, and no one empowered to say, "I see the problem. Let's fix it." There is only another automated email, another chatbot, or another request to start over.

For someone comfortable with technology, the process is frustrating. For older workers, people with limited digital skills, or applicants who rely primarily on smartphones, it can become a barrier that has little to do with their ability to do the job.

Ironically, very little of this measures whether someone will actually be a good employee.

Employers say they can't find dependable workers. Yet applicants are asked to retype information already contained in their resumes, complete personality tests of questionable value, record one-way video interviews, and navigate application systems that often seem designed to satisfy software rather than evaluate people.

Some never make it past the first screen.

Some simply give up.

Nearly everyone has experienced some version of it. An application that disappears. A password that won't work. A verification email that never arrives. A resume rejected without explanation. None of these things says much about whether someone can do the job. Yet together they have become one of the biggest barriers to getting one.

Technology has undoubtedly made many parts of hiring faster and more efficient. It can organize applications, reduce paperwork, and help employers manage large applicant pools. Those are worthwhile improvements.

But efficiency should not replace judgment.

When software rejects a qualified applicant because of a technical glitch, and no human being ever reviews the decision, technology has stopped serving people. People have begun serving technology.

The solution isn't to abandon digital hiring. It's to restore a human voice before the process reaches a dead end. Give applicants someone to call when verification systems fail. Simplify applications instead of adding new digital hoops. Use automation to support hiring, not to replace human judgment.

Most people want to work. They want to contribute, support themselves, and earn a fair opportunity.

Work remains one of the primary ways people build independence, provide for their families, and participate in their communities. The path to it shouldn't depend on whether someone can outsmart a website.
Before we ask why employers can't find workers, we should ask whether we've made it unnecessarily difficult for willing workers to find employers.

Getting hired shouldn't be this hard.

Jay Werther is founder of Fair Identity, an initiative exploring recovery, reputation, work, and second chances in modern society. He is a graduate of Roger Williams University School of Law and lives in Summit County, Utah.