Change Was Not a Life Sentence

Sometimes the door that changes your life isn’t the one you planned to open.

I spent my career in Customer Service, and in 2003 I had the opportunity to join an amazing company that gave me the tools and resources to develop in Customer Care and grow, ultimately leading to a Supply Chain Manager role. I never once thought about changing my career; I loved my customers, I loved the hustle, and I loved the brand. But in 2013 that all came to an end. Like many, I was part of downsizing. No shame in that, but it left me looking for work.

After spending 10 years at a company and with all prior roles in customer service, I thought that was what I'd focus my search on. However, on an emotional level, I was not confident about having to start over. I couldn't even find my original resume, so I needed to refocus. My company did offer me a resume service, which allowed me to put something together; however, as pretty as that resume was, I was not getting any bites. I also found myself rewriting most of it because it simply did not sound like me. Once I got that out of the way, I still had to deal with how I felt about the process; my feelings were not helping me cope with reality. I began seeking information, reading and listening to anything related to job hunting.

One day, while watching Morning Joe, I heard Mika Brzezinski speak about Know Your Value. She had written a book on this and was hosting events where successful women would share their stories. I bought her book, and her message stuck with me. I knew I needed to refocus my attention on the prospect of losing my job; I needed to be clear on what I brought to the table, what I loved to do, and what I wanted less of. If I was going to be seen, I needed to become my own advocate. So, I began to do just that. I had years of experience, knew what I strove for and the challenges I had overcome, and also knew the things I could do but did not like. Once again, I began to review my resume, ensuring that I was tailoring it to who I knew myself to be as a professional.

I then identified the perfect role for me, or at least I thought it was. I applied but received no response; I kept following up and noticed the job was not moving forward. It was listed for over six months. So one day, I received a random message from the same company for that role, but it was for Sales. I did not enjoy sales, and I had no experience, but I needed a job. So I applied. To my surprise, I was called for an interview, and while at the interview, the manager asked me why I was applying. I chose to be honest: I told him that I had applied for the CSAM role, but no one was calling, even though it remained open, and I needed a job. He smiled and asked me to wait in his office. He took my resume and handed it to the current manager, who then interviewed me for the CSAM role. That decision to apply to the wrong role opened that door, and after a couple of weeks, I landed that job.

After that interview, I had to sit through around six interviews — too many for that role. However, after I cleared them all, the Brand Manager called me to meet with him one last time; we had already met, but he wanted to run something by me. He had the idea of bringing me in as a CSR at an hourly rate, then allowing me to work my way to the CSAM at a salary. I smiled at him, and without missing a beat, I asked him: “Why do you need a CSAM but only want to hire a CSR? I am your CSAM, and this is my number. If you want a CSR, then I am not your person.”

He looked at me; it was as if he were surprised by the question and by my certainty. But I knew that if I could not stand up for myself, he may not believe I could manage the team. Well, I got the job. At the time, that job was what I needed to land on my feet after a year out of work; however, I soon realized it was just a lifeline, not meant for me to stay. I could feel it, and it was eating at me. I quit my job as soon as the season ended, and after that I held a few short‑lived jobs; I knew enough to realize I needed to find my home, something that would energize me as much as the ten years at that amazing company had. So, I was honest with myself and kept moving.

In 2016, I went to an interview for a Vendor Relations job; after reading the job description, I knew that although the title was different, my skills and experiences from that tenure made me a perfect candidate. So I applied and showed up for a four‑person interview (CEO, CFO, COO, and Legal). No one had prepared me for a panel interview, but since I am old‑school, I showed up with multiple copies of my resume and was ready. During the interview, I noticed the CEO circling and making notes on my cover letter; it almost felt like it was what landed me that interview. He then passed on his notes to Legal, who then asked me additional questions. During that interview, I was asked a lot of questions, many of which were direct to the role, but others that were geared to understanding me as an individual.

The CEO asked me about my experience with Excel; I explained that I knew it and used it daily, but I was not savvy at creating formulas. So then he began asking me about formulas. I looked at him, and without missing a beat, I responded: “I just said I have basic knowledge, so I can't answer these questions. If you need me to learn Excel, I can do that, but I can't tell you what I don't know.” I thought that I had screwed myself over, but I also felt like, “What part of no can’t you get?” After the interview concluded, I was told there was another candidate in play, but that I'd have a final interview with a Board Member; expect a call. Once again, the Board Member did not ask any questions about the vendor role; he was focused on me. Two days later, I got the job… but it wasn't the Vendor Relations job. It was Director of Recruiting / Vendor Relations.

Until that moment, I did not even know Recruiting was an official job. And since I had found this role through an agency, they, too, had no idea about the change to the role. I had no idea what a Recruiting role meant, and even less about being a director, but I had been interviewed by an entire panel, and I felt that if they believed I was right, I was going for it.

Within two weeks of being in my new role, I knew I was home. And today, July 6th, 2026, I can tell you it's been ten years in this role, and it was the best, unimaginable change.

Can you imagine if I had held back and decided I did not know enough of that role to take it on? I chose to trust that panel; they saw something in me I did not see in myself. They understood I had a skill that I did not know I possessed. Sometimes we need to trust others' view of us and simply take the chance. I am forever thankful to them, and of course to the CEO who took my cover letter seriously, took notes, and circled sections, focusing his attention on my potential.

What I didn’t know back then was that every twist, every setback, every unexpected pivot was shaping me for the work I do today. Recruiting wasn’t just a job I landed — it became the space where all my experiences finally made sense. I learned how much I love helping people see their own value, especially when they’re in the same place I once was: unsure, rebuilding, trying to figure out what comes next.

That’s the heart behind MTI. Not a business plan. A lived experience.

I built MTI because I know what it feels like to start over, to question your worth, to wonder if you’re still relevant, and to hope someone sees what you bring to the table. I also know what it feels like when someone finally does — and how life‑changing that moment can be.

My passion for this work didn’t come from theory. It came from surviving it, navigating it, and ultimately thriving because of it. MTI is simply the extension of that journey — a place where people can find clarity, confidence, and the courage to step into the roles they were meant for. Eileen Gonzalez, Founder MTI-Master the Interview