You're competing with 400 AI-generated CVs. Be the one a human remembers.
Join the Club and build a job-search system you keep for life, taking the best bits of YOU and AI. No blast-apply here.
They were keeping you updated. Oh no, they never were.
Never decode a job description at 11pm again.
Your coaches clear the busywork, so your head is free to make it unmistakably yours.
You leave each week holding something you actually built.
One real portfolio piece that shows what you can do, faster than any CV bullet.
19 women who'll drag you out from under the duvet on the bad mornings.
The market wants you to fire 200 near-identical applications into the void and call it a strategy. So we throw that whole 'spray and pray' AI playbook out. One brave, human thing a day, toward one job you really want, in a room of people who cheer, out loud, when you hit send. The robots do the heavy lifting. You do the brave bit.
A global strategic innovation leader, a registered psychologist (NIP), and a professional coach, with over a decade in design thinking and mindset shift. Twice featured in Vogue as a leader in innovation and creativity.
Kickoff, set-up Apply Squad, Hands-on Work, Q&A
Topic Keynote, Hands-on Work, Creative Ideation, Hands-on Work
Topic Keynote, Hands-on Work, Graduation session, What's next
The reset, your Claude setup, and the door-fit test that scores a role before you waste a brave move on it.
Friday: find the thing they'll remember you for.Find a referral in. Message the hiring manager. Send something useful before you ask. The moves that feel mortifying and land interviews anyway.
Friday: turn your happy-skills into a plan, and pick your portfolio piece.Turn a cold rejection into a critical eye. The real reasons a CV never gets read, and how to fix what is fixable.
Friday: build your piece, and a peer plays recruiter on your CV.The interview as a person. A bit of negotiation. And a plan to keep going after the cohort ends.
Friday: show what makes you unforgettable, then graduate.Up against this?
Trying to write like an actual human while 400 identical CVs flood in ahead of you?
Decoding an ad 90% written by AI, with no real idea what the job even is on a Tuesday?
Wondering what it pays? (Nobody will say. It's a fun little game they play.)
Yes? Same.
The rest of the internet hands you an auto-apply bot that machine-guns your one CV at 200 jobs an hour. It works about as well as that sounds. The Squad does the opposite. Nine coaches, each freakishly good at one thing, every one of them asking you questions before it writes a single word, because the AI here has exactly one job: get more of you onto the page.
Hue is you, on paper, built once. What you want, in what order (salary, location, the work), your hard red lines, your private definition of 'toxic.' Every coach after reads from her.
Dora translates 'fast-paced rockstar ninja' into the three things they actually want, tells you if you're a fit, a stretch, or a bridge, then asks the rude one: do you want this job, or just any job? (If it's any job, she points you at the fast pile and saves your real effort for later.)
Wendy digs up the company, the true pay band, and the reviews people only say quietly, works out whether it's a real role or a CV graveyard, and scores it twice, once for them, once for you. You call it.
Cece does the CV. She mines the wins you'd filed under 'just my job,' writes each one so a bot can't pretend it missed you (what you did, the number that proves it, how you pulled it off), then builds the best into a one-page portfolio.
Stella writes the cover letter, the part no CV can hold: why you're really moving, and the one result that makes a stranger want to meet you.
Olga finds the human who can walk you in and drafts the mortifying hello, in your voice. Her one rule: finish the file first, so the second they say yes you send it, not 'by Friday.'
Remi runs the whole relationship, first hello to final yes, with the nudge timed so it never sours into nagging, the thank-you, and the door wedged open even on a no.
Cora runs mock rounds until you stop sounding like a hostage reading a statement and start sounding like someone quietly brilliant.
Nelly takes the offer, where your salary floor earns its keep and most senior women talk themselves down before anyone in the room even pushes back. Not here.
Before anything goes out, Apply Judge gives it the cold read: errors, leaps of logic, anything oversold or invented. If it would not survive a recruiter's second glance, it does not leave your hands.
Friend Judge asks the one question logic skips: would your smartest friend, the one who watched this whole search, actually tell you to take it? Grounded in Hue, built to catch what wanting a job too badly makes you miss. You can still say yes. You just see the whole board first.
Once your Core Squad is running, the Elite Bench takes it further: five more coaches, all included, nothing paywalled.
Builds the one real artifact tied to the role (a product, a research piece, a deep-dive), heavier than a one-pager and built to prove you can actually do the job.
Scripts and coaches your 60-second why-me on video, so you stop sounding like you are reading your own CV out loud.
Builds your first-90-180-360-day plan before the final round, so you walk into the room already holding how you would actually lead it.
Rebuilds your LinkedIn and your wider online story so it works quietly for a confidential search, without broadcasting 'open to work' to your current boss.
Preps your referees so they sound like they rehearsed it (they did not, you just made sure they remembered the right stories), and lines up your inside advocates.
Maybe someone will. You are 20 senior women in overlapping worlds, so the odds are not zero. So here is how it works. What is said in the room stays in the room, you share only what you want to, and you can keep your live target list to yourself. And even if you do end up workshopping your next application beside a direct competitor, you are both lost in the same pile of 400 LinkedIn applicants anyway, so does the one of them sitting in here really matter? You are all in the same boat.
Maybe you were let go. Maybe you quit a manager you could not survive one more Monday with. Maybe a restructuring decided for you over a Zoom call that lasted four minutes. The messier and more diverse the mix, the more cross-inspiration we'll generate: the quickest way to feel less alone is to sit beside someone who got here a completely different way and realize, oh, we are fighting the exact same monster.
It is $20 a day, $100 for the whole Apply Reboot, less than a typical coaching hour. Here is the backwards part: you pay at the very end, and only if it helped you. Get to Friday feeling like it did nothing for you, and you owe me precisely zero.
Yes, there is a form. To a club about being ghosted for applying, I know, the irony is not lost on me. Here is the one difference that matters: this is the one place that will not ghost you back.
So put your hand up. Tell me a little about you, and the thing that makes you the one they remember.
Whatever you tell me here stays with me. The others in your cohort will only ever know what you choose to say out loud in the room.
Thanks for putting your hand up. I have it, and I read every single one. If you would rather also drop me a line, the email button is below.
Email me tooGet the women who need a job this month back in, as themselves.
Open it to women who have a job and want to shape the next move on their own terms, before the panic.
Build the Index, and partner with the recruiters and brands who guarantee a real human applicant experience, until 'read by a person, like a person' is the standard of human hiring, even in a market this automated.