Advertise on podcast: How to Move Abroad: Because Getting There Starts With Getting Hired

A client this week is living the digital nomad dream in Spain. Remote contract, digital nomad visa, the whole thing. And he came to me because the contract could dry up at any moment and he has no idea what happens next. This episode is for him. And honestly, for a lot of you. Remote doesn’t mean portable. Your US employer saying “you can work from anywhere” almost certainly means anywhere in the US, and there’s probably a location clause buried in your contract that proves it. Add return to office mandates that show up with zero warning, layoffs, restructuring, and the very real possibility that your income, your visa status, and your right to stay can all disappear at exactly the same time — and suddenly the remote plan looks a lot shakier than Instagram made it seem. This is not a “don’t do remote work” episode. It’s a don’t do it with a blindfold on episode. I’m walking you through what to check before you book your flight, why a savings buffer isn’t optional, and what a local job gives you that a remote one never can. If you’re remote-or-bust right now, come find me on Instagram @iammistelle. I’ve got a local job challenge coming and I want you in it.

You clicked the box. You feel like you did something. You didn’t. This week I’m breaking down why “open to relocation” on LinkedIn is basically just telling the world you want to leave — and why that’s not the same thing as getting hired abroad. Recruiters search by location first. If your profile still says Kansas City, nobody in Frankfurt is coming for you. BUT. That same box inside your own company’s HR system? Whole different story. That one I actually use — and it’s how I got my first job abroad and how my husband ended up in Vienna. The difference matters. A lot. I’m also talking about what actually moves the needle: getting specific about which country and which companies, understanding your visa timeline before someone asks you about it in an interview, and reaching out to actual humans instead of applying to 40 jobs on a random job board and calling it a day. DM me VISA or NETWORK on Instagram @iammistelle and I’ll send you the freebies that go with this episode.

“There is no way I’m putting THAT on my resume.” Right... don’t be mad, but your American is showing. If you’re applying for jobs in Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Spain, or Portugal and you’re refusing to put a photo, a birthdate, or your nationality on your CV — you’re taking yourself out of the running before anyone’s read a single word. This week I’m breaking down the three things that trip Americans up on European CVs. The photo, the birthdate, and your permit status. What they actually mean, what I personally do and why, and the one thing that is genuinely non-negotiable regardless of country. Also: the 2016 German study nobody wants to talk about, why I still don’t have a photo on my CV, and why hiding your visa status until the offer is the actual red flag. Don’t let your American show by accident. Free resource: GPT prompts to tailor your CV to any job description and get through ATS

Last week I drove to a lake to run 22K — my last long training run before a race this weekend. I had my gear, my energy bar, my whole situation sorted. I made it 150 meters before I tripped over a tree root and went down with road rash all the way down my arm. I scraped myself up, assessed the situation, and went home. I had another run scheduled for Monday. I ran it. Outside. Same surfaces, same risk of tree roots. And the race is still happening this weekend. That's what your international job search has to look like. This week I'm talking about what rejections are actually telling you — which is not what you think they're telling you — why this is a half marathon not a sprint, and how to use the falls as information instead of letting them become a story about whether you're capable. The tree root tells you where to watch your footing. It doesn't tell you to stop running. Instagram: @iammistelle Get past the ATS: GPT prompts

I just got back from a yoga retreat on a Greek island. To get there I had to take a nine hour ferry. I hate boats. I get motion sick like it's my actual job. I almost didn't go because of the ferry. And somewhere around hour four, slightly green, staring at the horizon, I thought about your international job search. Because that ferry is exactly what this feels like. Swaying. No end in sight. Desperate to get off. Knowing the only way to the island is staying on. This week I'm talking about how to actually ride the ferry — why you need your motion sickness meds before you board, why the center of the boat is the most stable place to be, why throwing fourteen applications at the water every day is panic wearing a strategy costume, and why you need to choose countries that would actually choose you back. The ride is not optional. Nobody who ever made it to the island got to skip it. But there's a difference between white-knuckling it blind and knowing which direction you're facing.

It's a trap. Not my words. Admiral Ackbar's. But also — absolutely — your international job application process. You find the posting. You tailor your resume. You hit submit. You hear nothing. You apply again. And again. And again. And you start wondering what's wrong with you. Nothing is wrong with you. You walked into a trap called ATS — Applicant Tracking System — the software that sits between your resume and an actual human being who could hire you. And if your resume doesn't speak its language, no human ever sees your name. This week I'm talking about what ATS actually is, why optimizing for American ATS systems and applying those same strategies internationally is like flying your X-Wing at the wrong Death Star, and what to actually do about it. Also: why C-3PO would have submitted a beautifully formatted cover letter and gotten absolutely nowhere. Don't be C-3PO

My official job title is a bunch of gibberish. Lead for BD... What is that. What does that mean. If you're a recruiter in Switzerland who's never worked in pharmaceutical business development and contract manufacturing — you have no idea. And you have approximately zero seconds of patience to figure it out before you move to the next application. What I actually am is a Quality Director. Same job. Completely different title. And that difference is the difference between a recruiter understanding what I do in three seconds and a recruiter moving on. This week I'm talking about the two job title problems that are quietly killing international job searches — the internal jargon title that means nothing outside your company, and the inflated American title that either makes you look like you're lying or prices you out of the market before you've said a word. Also: what to actually do about it. Without lying.

When I transferred my job from Vienna to Zurich within the same company, I still had to apply for it. And interview for it. Because Switzerland considered it a new position — and before my company could give it to me, they had to prove to Swiss authorities that no local candidate could do what I do. For my own job. That I was already doing. This week I'm talking about the legal reality of international hiring that almost nobody explains clearly — why employers in most European countries are required to demonstrate they couldn't find a local candidate before they can hire you, what that process actually looks like, and why this is the real reason you keep getting passed over and it has nothing to do with your qualifications. Also: what actually works when the playing field isn't level.

When you hear the word football you think Patrick Mahomes and Tom Brady. The rest of the world hears it and thinks Cristiano Ronaldo and Lionel Messi. Same word. Completely different game. And this is the most accurate description of what is happening in your international job search right now. You have been doing everything right — the resume, the cover letter, the applications, the follow ups. That's football. That's the game you know. But the moment you decided to land a job abroad you walked onto a FOOTBALL pitch in full pads and a helmet and wondered why everyone was looking at you like that. This week I'm talking about why the American job search playbook fails internationally — what's actually happening on the other side of your application, why the portal was never the point, and what showing up in the wrong uniform is costing you before anyone has even read your resume. This is not a talent problem. It's a translation problem.

You've applied to a lot of jobs. Maybe hundreds. And you keep hearing nothing, or you get to the final round and they hire the local candidate, and you're starting to wonder what's wrong with you. Nothing is wrong with you. Your experience is not the problem. Your strategy is the problem. And that is actually the best possible news because strategy can be fixed. This week I'm starting a new arc focused entirely on landing a job abroad — and we're starting with mindset because none of the tactical stuff works if the foundational beliefs are wrong. Why the job search strategy that works at home is actively working against you abroad. What is actually happening on the other end of your application. And the one frame shift that changes everything about how you approach this.

When I moved to Switzerland I didn't speak German. And I was fine. I worked for a global company, English was the working language, I could do my job completely competently without it. And then I moved to Vienna. And I had a direct report who didn't feel comfortable speaking English. And suddenly I had to manage someone... in German. And that changed everything about how I learned. This week I'm talking about the language barrier and your career abroad. The three levels of language need and which one applies to you. Why Foreign Fridays at the office moved the needle in a way Duolingo never did. And why getting by in English is not the same as being able to actually grow in a country where the real conversations happen in another language.

My daughter and I are reading Harry Potter right now. Goblet of Fire specifically. And somewhere between the dragon and the lake and the maze I realized ... this is exactly what moving abroad feels like. Quick note upfront: JK Rowling has said and done things I don't agree with and won't pretend otherwise. The story belongs to the readers now. So we're talking about the story. This week I'm mapping the Triwizard Tournament onto the move abroad process. The dragon: the obstacle you didn't fully see coming that you have to get through with what you have. The lake: going somewhere cold and dark and full of things trying to stop you to get back to something that matters. The maze: the middle phase where the path keeps changing and nothing is where you expected it to be. And the cup. And the portkey. And why what's on the other side of it is the beginning of the best part of your story

Nobody goes from the couch to running 10 kilometers without training. It doesn't matter how motivated you are, how badly you want it, or how expensive your shoes are. The distance requires training. The training takes time. And the time is not optional. Moving abroad is exactly the same. This week I'm using running — actual running, the specific experience of sitting in the driveway wondering if you just go, the first kilometer feeling great, kilometer two where you want to die — to talk about what the move abroad process actually looks like from the inside. Why you're not behind. Why the messy middle is supposed to feel like this. And why the days you don't want to train are the most important days to show up anyway. Also: the fueling piece. Because you cannot run a 10K on no sleep and pure adrenaline and neither can you plan a move abroad that way.

Twelve years in and three moves later, I'm going back to 2013 — the Switzerland move, the one that started it all — and telling you exactly what I'd do differently. The good stuff first: negotiating to keep my job across an ocean, moving the cats the right way, and doing a scouting trip to find our apartment before we arrived. All of it worth it. And then the honest part. The queen size sleigh bed that didn't fit. The cookie sheets that didn't fit the oven. The $2,000 we had in the bank when we needed three months of rent as a deposit. The rental deposit insurance I wish someone had told me existed. And the apartment in what turned out to be a revolving door building where we never really got to know our neighbors. This one's unscripted, off the cuff, and probably the most useful episode I've recorded in a while.

I cannot swim. I know the theory. I've watched people do it my entire life. I could explain the mechanics to you in detail. And if you threw me in a pool right now the outcome would not be good. This week I'm talking about why moving abroad is the same — why you cannot read or research your way into being ready for something you can only learn by doing. Why the not knowing yet is not the problem. Why the falling down on the ice is not failure, it's the process. And why my daughter being at hockey camp this week made me think about all of this in a way I needed to say out loud. Also: why you don't have to figure any of this out alone, and what support in this process actually looks like.