The Absolute Chaos That Forced Me to Look at Star Charts
Man, December 2022. What a mess. You guys know I usually stick to documenting my actual business experiments—stuff I can measure, right? But I hit a wall that November. I quit my job. Yeah, I walked out. It was a decent gig, paid well, but the CEO was nuts, just totally flipped out over minor things. After one particularly nasty shouting match that wasn’t even about my work, I just packed my monitor and keyboard, didn’t say goodbye, and went home.
Suddenly, I had zero income, and I had bills piling up faster than I could swipe my credit card. My savings account started looking sickly pale. I was seriously stressing. I had my resume polished up, sent it out fifty times, but the responses were garbage—lowball offers or jobs that sounded exactly like the one I just escaped. I needed a sign. I needed a break. I needed something, anything, that wasn’t just staring at the ceiling tiles.
My old college roommate, who is completely into crystals and moon cycles, saw I was losing it. She sent me a screenshot of some article. It was all about Key Dates to Watch for Virgos in December 2022. Usually, I’d scroll past that crap. But honestly, I was so desperate, I figured, “What the heck? I’ll treat this like a project brief.” If the universe was going to give me a timeline, I was going to follow it to the letter, just to see if it was all hot air or if there was something to it.
Marking Down the Two Big Dates and Planning the Attack
The article specifically highlighted two days that were supposedly massive for career moves and financial breakthroughs for my sign. I took my old whiteboard, drew a big calendar, and circled them in thick, angry red marker.
- First Date: December 8th (The Networking Power Day). The article claimed this day was perfect for making serious, meaningful connections, signing initial agreements, or having difficult but necessary conversations.
- Second Date: December 21st (The Financial Culmination). This day was supposedly when efforts concerning money or contracts would finally materialize, leading to solid commitments or major decision-making.
I decided to stop passively applying. I had to force the issue and line up actions to peak on those two days. This wasn’t about waiting for the stars; it was about using the stars as a ridiculously arbitrary deadline structure.
For the first date, December 8th, I spent the whole first week of December doing the hardest thing possible: cold outreach. I hated it. I scraped together a list of six people I respected from previous companies—people I hadn’t talked to in years—and drafted personalized emails. I didn’t ask for a job; I asked for fifteen minutes of their time to get “strategic advice.” I needed to lock down at least three of those meetings for the 8th itself.
I pushed and prodded, dealing with delayed responses and cancellations. By the 7th, I had two confirmed Zoom calls for the 8th, plus a coffee meet-up. I crammed all my notes, prepared my elevator pitch, and made sure I had specific, smart questions ready to throw at them. I treated those meetings like they were final interviews, even though they were just informational chats.
Executing the “Stellar” Deadlines and Watching the Results Unfold
December 8th: I woke up ridiculously early. I had the coffee meeting first. It was a disaster, honestly. The guy was nice, but offered zero useful insight. Just a lot of corporate buzzwords. I felt like the whole experiment was already failing. But I had to stick to the plan.
The second and third Zoom calls, however, were totally different. The second guy actually threw a serious lead my way—a consulting gig with a company he was advising. The third contact, who I thought would be the least helpful, literally sent my resume straight to his VP of Engineering while we were still talking. He didn’t even ask me if I wanted him to; he just did it. That day, which started like a failure, ended with two promising, solid leads that skipped the traditional application pile altogether.
Now, I had to sprint to the second date, December 21st. The consulting gig lead moved fast. I submitted a proposal and had two quick interviews the week after the 8th. They wanted a decision on terms and pay by the 20th, which was perfect timing, oddly enough. Meanwhile, the VP of Engineering lead was slower but also serious. They invited me for a big final-round interview on the 19th.
December 21st: This was the day I had marked down for culmination. The consulting company was breathing down my neck to sign the initial retainer agreement. It was good money, but temporary. I was leaning toward taking it just to survive.
I was literally sitting there, staring at the digital contract, when my phone rang. It was the VP of Engineering. He called me personally and offered me the full-time role. The salary was exactly what I had been making before I quit, plus a much better benefits package. And get this: they wanted the signed offer letter back by the end of the day, which was, naturally, the 21st.
I tore up the consulting proposal, called them to gracefully decline, and inked that full-time contract right then and there. I had gone from being unemployed and stressed out to securing a fantastic new job, all pegged to two dates that I had only gotten from some goofy internet astrology article. Coincidence? Maybe. But sticking to that weird, fixed timeline forced me to be proactive and aggressive in a way I hadn’t been before. I realized that the dates themselves didn’t hold magic, but treating them like unavoidable deadlines kicked my butt into gear. And that, folks, is how I accidentally turned a horoscope into a career project plan.
