I Dared To Ask What A Job Paid. The Interview Ended In 30 Seconds.
ViDI Studio | Shutterstock Editor's Note: This is a part of YourTango's Opinion section where individual authors can provide varying perspectives for wide-ranging political, social, and personal commentary on issues.
Up until that moment, it had been going great. We’d talked about my experience writing content and planning content for their organization, and walked through my portfolio. We discussed my process for working with clients and how that looked for them. The recruiter seemed genuinely excited about what I brought to the table, and honestly, I was excited too.
It was one of those interviews that a job seeker dreams of, where all the flags seem green, and the interviewer loves everything you say. This felt like it could be the right fit: remote work, good company, exactly the kind of project I wanted to be doing.
Then he asked if I had any questions for him. I said: “Yes. What’s the salary range for this position? I noticed you didn’t specify anything in the ad.”
I dared to ask what a job paid, and the interview ended in 30 seconds.
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The energy in the conversation shifted immediately. I could feel it even over Zoom. It was like someone opened the door to a deep freeze. I thought they would be passing out ice cream cones soon.
There was a pause. Then: “We prefer to discuss compensation after we’ve determined fit.” I smiled, but kept my voice calm and professional. I heard this all before and was ready for just this kind of dismissal. “I completely understand. But I don’t want to waste anyone’s time if we’re not in the same ballpark financially.”
Her tone changed from warm and engaged to cold and transactional. Professional in that HR way, that means the conversation is over. I could see she had already grabbed another resume and was ready to end the call.
“We’ll be in touch.”
I never heard from them again, and that was fine with me.
Let that sink in for a second: I got rejected for asking what a job pays
Not because I lacked the skills they needed. Not because I was unqualified or unprofessional. Not because I said something inappropriate or failed some test of my abilities.
I got rejected because I asked a basic, reasonable question about compensation before investing more time in their hiring process. Think about that power dynamic for a second. Really think about it. They can ask me anything they want:
- My entire work history going back decades.
- My education and certifications.
- My technical skills and soft skills.
- My references and whether those references will say nice things about me.
- My availability and whether I can start immediately.
- My portfolio and examples of my best work.
- My weaknesses and how I handle conflict.
- My salary history in states where that’s still legal.
- Why I left my last job and what I’m looking for in my next one.
- Where I see myself in five years and what my career goals are.
But I can’t ask what they’re willing to pay me for my time. Because it seems as if asking about money makes me look “money-motivated,” as if caring about how much I’m paid is somehow unprofessional or suggests I’m not passionate enough about the work itself.
The job application game is rigged from the start
Here’s what companies do, and they do it so systematically that it feels like there’s a handbook somewhere teaching them how to waste our time. It’s called “How to Screw an Applicant,” and it’s handed out on your first day of work in HR: They post job descriptions with no salary information. Just vague phrases like “competitive salary” or “compensation based on experience” that tell you absolutely nothing about whether this job pays $40K or $140K.
Then they make you jump through an endless series of hoops, like your name is Shaq and you are 7' 1'”— phone screen with HR, first interview with the hiring manager, second interview with the team, maybe a skills test or take-home project (which is another red flag), panel interview with leadership, reference checks that take another week.
Only after you’ve invested hours of your time, after you’ve rearranged your schedule for multiple interviews, after you’ve done unpaid work on their skills test (which is a whole lot of garbage in itself), after you’ve already started mentally planning your transition into this role, only then do they tell you what they’re actually willing to pay.
And it’s always less than you expected. Always. But by that point in the whole process, you’ve invested so much time and emotional energy that starting the whole thing over with another company feels more pointless than just accepting less than you’re worth. That’s the game they love to play. That’s how it’s designed to work.
Did you think this was going to be fair? And the moment you refuse to play, the moment you ask about salary upfront and try to short-circuit their process, you become the problem. You ruin their day and their entire process. It’s not their fault for wasting your time. It’s you for daring to ask.
Why does this make me so angry?
I’m 57 years old and have been around the block a few times. I’ve been working in some form for over 44 years.
I’ve been broke. I’ve had to choose between buying groceries and paying rent. I had a heart attack in 2022, partly because of the stress of not being able to pay my bills. I rebuilt my career from nothing, more than once. More than twice, in fact.
So yes, I care about money. I care about it a lot.
And I’m done pretending that caring about compensation is somehow wrong or unprofessional or a sign that I’m not “passionate” enough about the work.
This isn’t about greed. It’s not about being materialistic or shallow or only caring about the paycheck.
It’s about survival. It’s about feeding my family and keeping a roof over our heads and not ending up broke again at 57 years old with no safety net.
I have a wife and kids in the Philippines, depending on the money I bring them. I have bills that don’t care whether I’m “passionate” about my work or “mission-driven” or a “culture fit.”
That’s why I don’t work for “exposure,” because you can’t buy food with “exposure.” I don’t have the luxury of spending three weeks in an interview process only to find out the job pays half of what I need to survive.
But companies act like asking about salary is rude. Like we’re supposed to be so grateful for the opportunity to work for them that we’ll take whatever they decide to offer.
And if we don’t? If we dare to have standards or advocate for ourselves? We’re “not the right fit.”
The corporate hypocrisy is stunning
Companies will spend 45 minutes, an hour, sometimes multiple hours across several interviews asking detailed questions about my skills, my experience, my qualifications, my work style, my career goals, my personality, and my references.
They know everything about me, and I know next to nothing about them. But they won’t spend 30 seconds telling me whether this job pays $50,000 or $150,000. That, in my opinion, is the least they could do, since my information is only what they divulge in their job posting.
They say it’s because “salary depends on the candidate’s experience and qualifications,” as if that somehow makes it impossible to provide even a basic range.
That’s garbage. And we all know it’s garbage. It doesn’t smell like anything different.
You have a budget. You approved this position with a salary range before you ever posted the job. You know what you paid the last person in this role. You’ve already decided the minimum and maximum you’re willing to pay before you even start interviewing.
You are hemming and hawing like a donkey because that is what is expected of you from higher-ups. You just don’t want to tell candidates because telling us gives us power in the negotiation. You want us to name a number first so you can anchor the conversation there, even if you were willing to pay more.
You don’t want us to know what others in similar roles at your company are making because then we might realize you’re underpaying people, and we might demand more. You want to see how desperate we are first, how much we want the job, and whether we’ll go through your entire process without knowing the pay.
That’s not “determining fit.” That’s negotiating from a position of deliberate information imbalance. And it’s designed entirely to benefit you at our expense. You want us to always have the bad end of the stick, because then you have the power, and the tissues.
What the law says (and why it doesn’t matter)
More and more states are passing salary transparency laws that require companies to post salary ranges in job descriptions: California. Colorado. New York. Washington. Connecticut. Maryland. Nevada. Rhode Island.
Legislators passed these laws after finally recognizing what workers already knew: hiding salary information keeps gender and racial pay gaps alive. Women still earn 84 cents for every dollar men earn. Research shows that pay transparency significantly reduces these inequities.
But here’s what actually happens in practice: They post ranges so wide they’re essentially meaningless. “$60,000-$180,000 depending on experience and qualifications.” Great. That tells me nothing. I am no better off than when I started.
Or they just ignore the law entirely and hope nobody reports them. They post the job with no salary information and deal with any fines or complaints if they come up, which they usually don’t because enforcement is minimal.
Or (and this is my favorite) they explicitly exclude certain states from remote positions. “This role is open to candidates in all US locations except California, Colorado, New York, and Washington.” Why would you exclude qualified candidates from four major states? Because you don’t want to post the salary range. You’d rather lose access to millions of potential candidates than be transparent about what you’re paying.
Let that sink in. They’d rather have a smaller, less qualified talent pool than tell people what a job pays.
When I ignore my own rules
Here’s the uncomfortable part that I need to be honest about: I know better, but I still fall for the game sometimes. When I see a job post with no salary information, I should skip it. Move on. Save myself the time and frustration. I know how this story ends because I’ve experienced it before.
But when the job sounds really good, and when it’s exactly the kind of work I want to do, I tend to jump headfirst. And if the company has a great reputation and the job description makes me think “this is perfect for me,” I convince myself, “maybe this company will be different.”
I apply anyway. I tell myself I’ll just ask about salary in the first conversation, and if it’s not in my range, I’ll politely exit stage left. But by the time I get to that first conversation, I’m hopeful, and already emotionally invested. I’ve already spent time researching the company, customizing my application, and preparing for the call.
I want the job now, and I almost always feel like they feel the same way about me. So when they deflect my salary question or give me a range that’s lower than I wanted, I’m more likely to keep going, to convince myself maybe I could make it work, to accept less than I’m worth because saying no feels harder than saying yes.
That’s exactly how they get you by the balls. They make you want it first. They make you invest time and energy and hope. Then they tell you what they’re paying. And at that point, walking away feels like admitting you wasted all that time for nothing.
What I’ve learned from getting rejected
I’ve been rejected for asking about salary more times than I can count at this point. They all blur together into a mish-mash of anger and hurt.
Sometimes they ghost me immediately after I ask. The conversation just ends and I never hear back. Sometimes they give me the corporate “we’ll be in touch” line and then never follow up. Sometimes they’re more direct and tell me straight up: “We’re looking for someone more focused on the mission than the compensation.”
Translation: We’re looking for someone desperate enough to work cheap, or naive enough not to ask questions, or young enough not to know their worth yet.
And you know what? That’s fine. Good, even. Because every single time I get rejected for asking about salary, I’m dodging a bullet. Every single time.
If a company won’t be transparent about money during the interview process, they won’t be fair about money when you actually work there. They’ll lowball your annual raises. They’ll underpay you compared to new hires doing the same job. They’ll expect you to work nights and weekends “for the team” without any additional compensation. They’ll make you feel guilty for advocating for yourself.
In my experience, the companies that give you less trouble with compensation up front always tend to be less problematic in the long run. The interview is them showing you who they are. Believe them the first time.
What actually happened after that interview that ended in thirty seconds
I spent the rest of that day angry and ticked off. Not just at that specific company and that specific recruiter. At the entire system. At the fiction we’re all supposed to maintain that we care more about “passion” and “culture fit” and “mission alignment” than we do about paying our bills.
I was upset at the game where employers have all the information and all the leverage while we’re supposed to just guess and hope. In the narrative that asking about money makes you look greedy or mercenary or not committed enough.
So I posted about it on Threads. Just a short post, nothing fancy. The interview ended when I asked about salary. That’s it. 50,000 views in a few hours. Almost 5k likes. Hundreds of comments, and almost all of them were saying the same thing:
“This happened to me too.”
“I got ghosted after asking about pay.”
“They told me I wasn’t ‘mission-driven’ enough because I asked about salary.”
“I wasted three weeks and did a 10-hour take-home project just to find out they pay $20,000 less than I need to survive.”
People are angry about this. And they should be. We all should be.
Why companies hide salary information
Let me tell you exactly why companies refuse to post salary ranges, and I’m going to be blunt about it because I’m tired of pretending there are good reasons:
They want to underpay you. If you don’t know what the job actually pays, you will most likely ask for less than they budgeted. If their range is $80K-$100K and you ask for $75K because you don’t know any better, they just saved $5K-$25K. Multiply that across dozens of hires, and they’ve saved hundreds of thousands of dollars by keeping you in the dark.
It's all about the money, honey! They’re paying different people wildly different amounts for the same work. If everyone knew what everyone else made, people would realize they’re being underpaid compared to their colleagues. They’d demand raises or leave. Salary secrecy keeps people from knowing they’re getting screwed.
This affects minorities and women more often than not, where companies can pay them less because they think they offer less value. It’s sickening, really.
They want to see how desperate you are. If you’re willing to go through five rounds of interviews, do a take-home project, and provide references without ever knowing what the job pays, you’re signaling that you really need this job. Which means they have leverage. Which means they can offer you less.
It sets the relationship off on the foot that you are the beggar, and they are the chooser.
They don’t actually have a budget yet. Some companies post jobs they’re not actually ready to fill. They’re “testing the market” to see what kind of talent they can attract before they commit to a salary range. They’re using you for free market research.
They think it gives them negotiating power. If you name a number first, they can anchor the entire negotiation around that number, even if they were prepared to pay significantly more. Information asymmetry is the entire point.
Every single one of these reasons benefits the employer at your expense. Not a single one of them benefits you. That’s the game.
What should happen during job interviews instead?
The solution is incredibly simple: Post the salary range in the job description before anyone applies. That’s it. That’s the whole solution.
If the job pays $80,000-$100,000, say that in the job posting. Let people self-select out if it’s too low for their needs. Let people get excited if it’s in their range. Stop wasting everyone’s time with information games and power plays.
“But salary depends on experience and qualifications!”
Fine. Post a range. “$80,000-$120,000 depending on experience and qualifications.” See? Not that hard. You managed to figure out a range when you budgeted for the position. Share it.
“But we don’t want to limit ourselves to a specific number!”
Then your range is too narrow, or you haven’t actually thought through what this position is worth. Expand the range or admit you’re not ready to hire yet.
“But candidates will only focus on the top of the range and be disappointed if we offer the bottom!”
That’s a you problem, not a them problem. If you’re worried about that, maybe you should be paying people at the top of the range. Or maybe your range is actually unfair, and you know it.
There is no good reason to hide salary information except that it benefits you to keep candidates in the dark. That’s it. That’s the only reason.
What I’m doing now
I ask about salary in the first conversation. Every single time. No exceptions.
If a recruiter or hiring manager won’t tell me the range, I politely end the conversation right there. “Thank you so much for your time. I don’t move forward in hiring processes where salary isn’t discussed upfront. I really appreciate you considering me, and I hope you find the right candidate.”
Then I move on. No hard feelings. No burning bridges. Just a clean exit.
Some recruiters actually respect this approach. They appreciate the directness and the fact that I’m not wasting their time either. They tell me the range right away, and we can have a real conversation about whether it makes sense to move forward.
Others get visibly offended, like I’ve insulted them personally by treating this like a business transaction instead of some sacred ritual. They tell me I’m “not a culture fit,” or I’m “too focused on compensation,” or I’m “not aligned with the company’s values.”
Good. I don’t want to work for a company that thinks asking what a job pays before investing time in their process means I’m not a culture fit. That tells me everything I need to know about their culture.
What you should do
Stop applying to jobs with no salary information. I know how hard this is. I know the job market is brutal right now. I know sometimes you see a posting that sounds absolutely perfect and you think, “Maybe just this once.” I know you need work, and you can’t afford to be picky.
But here’s the thing: every single time you apply to a job with no posted salary, you’re telling companies it’s okay to hide that information. You’re saying, “I’ll play your game.” You’re perpetuating a system that wastes everyone’s time and keeps power concentrated with employers.
As long as we keep applying, they’ll keep hiding salary information. As long as we keep jumping through their hoops, they’ll keep adding more hoops.
So ask about salary early. First conversation. Before you invest time in skills tests, multiple rounds of interviews, or reference checks. If they won’t tell you, walk away. You’re not being difficult. You’re not being greedy. You’re not being unprofessional.
You’re protecting your time and your worth. And if enough of us start doing this consistently, maybe, just maybe, companies will realize they actually have to change.
The bottom line: the job market is broken
The job market is broken. Companies have all the power, all the information, all the leverage. They can waste our time, ghost us after multiple interviews, lowball us, and make us jump through endless hoops for jobs that don’t pay enough to survive on. And we’re supposed to smile and say “thank you for the opportunity” and be grateful they even considered us.
I’m done with that. I’m done pretending it’s rude to ask what a job pays. I’m done wasting time on companies that play games with people’s livelihoods. I’m done letting employers act like compensation is some sacred secret I have to earn the right to know through my submission to their process.
This is a business transaction. I’m selling my time, my skills, my expertise. You’re buying them. In literally any other transaction, you know the price before you commit to buying. Why should this be different?
It shouldn’t. There’s no good reason for it to be different except that it benefits employers to keep us in the dark. So post the salary range. Be transparent. Stop playing games. Treat us like adults who have bills to pay and lives to plan.
Or watch us walk away. Because more and more of us are learning that our time is worth more than your games.
Jason Weiland is a writer and content strategist. He's had articles featured in Medium, where he writes about reinvention, mental health, and navigating life's second acts. With over 20 years of freelance experience, Jason specializes in honest storytelling that connects with readers facing their own challenges and transitions.
