There's a subtle energy in most hiring processes that goes something like this: we're the employer, you're the candidate, and you should want to work here.
That energy is so built in that most companies don't even notice it. They design processes to evaluate candidates—screens to filter, interviews to assess, scorecards to compare. The entire apparatus assumes one direction of judgment: us deciding about them.
But if you want to hire strong talent, you need to understand that they have options. The people who will actually move your company forward aren't hoping to get picked; they're evaluating you with the same rigor you're evaluating them. They're reading your process for signals about what it's like to work with you. They're comparing you to other options. And they're deciding, at every stage, whether this feels like a step forward or a lateral move.
Two ways this goes wrong
A client reached out after their top candidate for a senior engineering role declined the offer. The process had gone well on paper—strong interviews, good rapport with the team, aligned on scope. When the offer went out, they were confident.
The candidate declined. Took another offer she'd been working in parallel.
The client was stunned. "We thought we were the clear frontrunner." But when we walked through what happened, the pattern was obvious: nobody had asked. Not once in the process did anyone check where the candidate stood, what else she was considering, or what would make this role the clear choice. They assumed she didn’t have any other options, and she surely wanted this job. Why wouldn't she?
In reality, she had three other options. Nobody knew because nobody asked.
The opposite failure is just as common. A hiring manager gets excited about a candidate early—great background, strong first interview, obvious fit on paper. They start selling hard. Every conversation becomes a pitch: here's why this role is amazing, here's why you'll love the team, here's the growth trajectory.
What they're not doing is listening. They're so busy convincing that they miss the signals. The candidate mentions they're concerned about work-life balance, yet it gets glossed over. They ask about on-call expectations, yet the answer is vague and optimistic. They hesitate when describing what they want next, yet nobody digs in.
The offer goes out. The candidate declines, citing "fit." The hiring manager is confused: "But they seemed so excited in the interviews." They may have appreciated being wanted, but they were never sure about the job.
Both failures come from the same place: treating hiring as one-directional. In the first case, the company forgot they were being evaluated. In the second, they were so focused on winning that they forgot to check whether they were winning the right person for the right reasons.
What strong candidates are really evaluating
They're not just listening to what you say about the role; they're watching how you say it. How organized is the process? How quickly do you move? Do the interviewers seem aligned, or does each one describe the role differently? Does the hiring manager seem like someone they'd want to work for? Is anyone asking what they want, or is the conversation entirely about what you need?
These signals accumulate. By the time you make an offer, the candidate has already formed an opinion about your company based on dozens of small moments. The offer isn't the pitch—it's the paperwork. If you haven't earned their confidence by then, a strong comp package won't save you.
Five questions to check alignment along the way
Most interviewers ask questions to evaluate candidates. Fewer ask questions to check whether the candidate is getting closer to yes. Here are five you can use in your next conversation.
First screen, before you've pitched anything: "When you think about your next role, what actually matters most to you? For example: scope, title, learning, flexibility, impact, compensation, or something else?"
Or, "If you had to rank what matters most to you at work right now, what would be at the top? Why?"
After you've described the role honestly, include the hard parts: "Based on what I've shared, what sounds like a fit and what gives you pause?"
This is better than "any questions?" because it invites honesty about concerns, and it leads them to provide an answer rather than just ending the conversation right there. If they can't name anything that gives them pause, they're either not listening or not being honest. Both are worth noting.
Mid-process, after they've met the team: "Does this feel like a real step forward for you, or more of a lateral move?"
This question has teeth. It forces them to articulate whether this role actually advances what they want. A hesitant answer here is a gift—you can address it now instead of discovering it in a decline email.
Before you make the offer: "If we moved forward next week and the offer looked like what we've discussed, what could still make you say no?"
You're giving them permission to name the thing they've been sitting on. Compensation, timing, a competing offer—whatever it is, you want it on the table while there's still time to address it.
During the offer conversation: "What would need to be true for you to accept this with confidence?"
This reframes the close from "will you take it" to "what makes this a yes you won't regret." It surfaces the emotional side of the decision, which is often where offers actually die.
The offer isn't where you negotiate—it's where you confirm
When I hire internally, offers rarely get declined. Not because I'm lucky, but because there's nothing left to surprise anyone. By the time the paperwork goes out, we've already reviewed everything together—compensation, expectations, start date, the parts of the role that will be hard. I'm not just checking that they're okay with it, I'm checking that they're excited. If there's hesitation, I want to know before the offer, not after.
The offer itself should be a formality. A confirmation of what you've already agreed on, not the start of a negotiation.
Which is why lowball tactics baffle me. I've seen employers discuss a range throughout the process, get alignment, and then come in slightly under the bottom of that range—like it's a real estate deal, and they're trying to get a better price. They think they're being shrewd negotiators.
But you don't actually save anything. You set the tone that this is a transaction, and in return you get transactional work. The person shows up already a little guarded, a little less invested. They do the job, but they don't go beyond it. Why would they? You told them on day one what kind of relationship this was going to be.
The flip side is just as true. When you show someone they matter—that you value what they bring and you're not trying to squeeze every dollar—you get that back tenfold. Discretionary effort. Loyalty when things get hard. The willingness to stay late when it matters, not because they have to but because they want to.
Strong candidates notice the difference. And the ones with real options—the ones you wanted most—will sometimes walk away entirely. Not because the money was the difference, but because of what it signaled.
The shift
The companies that consistently land great people aren't the ones with the best perks or the highest comp. They're the ones who treat candidates like people making a high-stakes decision—because that's what's actually happening. They move with urgency because they know good people have options. They're honest about the hard parts of the role because they know surprises kill trust. They check alignment throughout the process because they know a confident yes is worth more than a reluctant one.
Your process is a preview of what it's like to work with you. Every vague answer, every slow response, every interview where nobody asked what the candidate actually wants—it all accumulates into a picture. Strong candidates are paying attention. They're deciding whether you're the kind of company that's worth betting their career on.
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