I had moved to New York permanently the week before.
My phone number was new too. I had changed it a couple of weeks earlier, right in the middle of interviews, apartment searches, flights, and the job change. A recruiter emailed because she had tried the old number and wanted to talk about a hands-on IT manager role in Midtown.
I wrote back with the new number and asked her to call.
That probably says more about the way I treated work than any polished career explanation could. I had just left Beatport, moved across the country, and started the job that made the move possible. I was still willing to hear about another infrastructure team being built nearby.
The recruiter had been part of the New York search before the move. She knew I had been trying to get into the city and thought the new role could fit. My reply was practical. I hoped the number change had not caused me to miss other messages from her.
The job search had become a habit by then. I kept a current resume, answered quickly, asked direct questions, and took calls even when I was not sure I wanted the role. For most of the previous four years, that approach had produced consulting work, side jobs, and the next full-time position.
It also meant that moving did not produce a clean ending. The old Denver apartment still had to be handled. Our things were still moving around. I was learning a new job. Recruiters were calling about the next one.
New York itself was no longer hypothetical. I could say I lived here permanently. The word looked almost funny in the email because very little else felt settled.
I gave the recruiter my number and went back to the week.