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The Credential Trap: Why International Professionals Struggle to Get Hired in New Zealand

For career-changer migrants navigating the gap between their qualifications and the New Zealand labour market — and for the advisors, institutions, and communities who support them

You did not come to New Zealand on a whim.

You spent months — maybe years — researching pathways, weighing up options, talking through the implications with your family. You chose a postgraduate programme strategically, understanding that study was the most viable route toward the life you were building here. You arrived with qualifications, with experience, with drive. And you arrived with a reasonable assumption: that the career you had built in your home country would count for something in this one.

It does count. But perhaps not in the way you expected.

This article is for two audiences. First, the career-changer migrants: mid-career professionals who are using international study as a deliberate migration pathway and want a clearer map of what the New Zealand  labour market actually looks for. Second, the career advisors, student services practitioners, and academic staff who support them, and who need better frameworks for the specific and often overlooked challenges this cohort faces.

Because these two conversations belong together. What happens — or fails to happen — in a career advisory session has direct consequences for a real person’s ability to build the life they came here for. Career-changer migrants have made a huge investment of money, time and energy to study, often at postgraduate level, with a clear goal of finding work and settling in their destination of choice — and hope.

The Career Changer in the Room: A Cohort We Rarely Name

Most career support services are designed around a particular image of the international student: someone in their early twenties, fresh from an undergraduate degree, holding three possible futures lightly — return home, stay here, or move to a third country. That image is real for many students.

But it is not the whole picture.

A growing cohort arrives looking very different. They are in their thirties or forties. They have ten, fifteen, sometimes twenty years of professional experience. They are not holding their futures lightly — they have already made the decision. They enrolled in a postgraduate programme because it was the most viable pathway to the permanent residency they are working toward. Study, for them, is not just getting a degree. It is a calculated means to a specific end.

Researchers have named this pattern “edugration” — a deliberate blend of education and migration, where international study becomes a structured, multi-step immigration strategy. A 2024 study of Indian postgraduate students in the United Kingdom found that most participants were using the education pathway as a deliberate entry point to permanent residency, and most were in their late twenties to forties, with significant careers behind them (Udayanga, 2024). New Zealand is not unique in this — but our support systems have not kept pace with it.

If you are that person reading this: you are not unusual. You are part of a well-documented and growing cohort. And the challenges you are encountering are not a reflection of your capability — they are a reflection of a gap between what you were told the pathway would look like, and what it actually requires.

Qualified and Overlooked: Why Overseas Credentials Don’t Travel Well

Aria (a pseudonym) came to New Zealand from India with ten years of human resources experience at several global brands. She had managed recruitment pipelines, led organisational design projects, and navigated large, complex organisations. She enrolled in a postgraduate Master’s programme as her migration strategy — deliberate, planned, well-researched.

And she arrived believing that her experience, combined with a New Zealand qualification, would open doors in the local HR market.

This is an entirely reasonable belief. It is also, in the New Zealand context, incomplete — and that gap between reasonable expectation and local reality is where this cohort most needs support.

A systematic review of 74 studies on international graduate workforce integration found that immigrants’ earnings — particularly those with foreign degrees or who arrived at an older age — are consistently lower than their qualifications predict (Han et al., 2022). A local qualification helps, but even that does not fully close the gap with locally born graduates. Recruitment processes frequently demand the display of cultural capital — a tacit familiarity with local norms, communication styles, and workplace expectations that no overseas role, however senior, can fully provide. Employer bias, often framed as a question of “cultural fit,” operates alongside formal qualifications — and sometimes more powerfully than them.

Critically, credential recognition does not just affect whether you get hired — it affects the quality of what becomes possible once you are. Zikic and Klehe’s (2021) quantitative study of 356 skilled migrants found that when migrants’ credentials were not locally recognised, the positive effects of career planning on employment quality were significantly reduced. Put plainly: it is not only harder to get through the door without recognised credentials — it is harder to plan meaningfully toward the career you actually want once you are inside.

The question New Zealand employers are really asking is not ‘What have you achieved?’ It is ‘Do you understand how we work here, and do you know anyone who can vouch for you?’

This is the credential trap. It catches capable, experienced professionals not because they lack ability, but because they arrive with an incomplete roadmap. Pham et al. (2024) found that international graduates consistently underestimated the importance of social and cultural capital before entering the labour market, only discovering their critical role after failing to secure roles. University programmes — including postgraduate ones — emphasise qualifications and skills. They rarely prepare students for the filters that actually operate in the local labour market.

What New Zealand Employers Are Actually Looking For

New Zealand’s labour market has features that are easy to miss if you have New Zealand’s labour market has features that are easy to miss if you have worked primarily in large multinational environments — even Western ones.

Workplaces here tend to be flat in structure and relationship-driven in culture. Decisions are made through conversation and consensus as much as through hierarchy. Communication is often indirect — understatement and humility are read as positive attributes, not weakness. And community involvement is genuinely woven into how people are assessed: not as a nice-to-have on a CV, but as a signal of character and belonging.

Aria had spent her career in organisations where Western multinationals set the cultural tone. She was fluent in global business English, comfortable with performance frameworks, experienced across cultures. She assumed this would translate. But the specific nuances of New Zealand workplace culture — its particular combination of informality, egalitarianism, and community orientation — was something she had not encountered before. This is not a deficit. It is simply unfamiliarity. And unfamiliarity can be addressed — but only if it is named.

Research on social capital and migrant integration in Aotearoa notes that New Zealand has one of the highest immigration rates in the OECD — nearly 30% of the population is foreign-born — yet the labour market remains deeply relationship-driven (Roskruge & Poot, 2025). Bridging social capital, meaning connections across different groups and communities, is especially important for migrants’ employment outcomes. Bonding capital — connections within your own cultural community — matters for wellbeing, but it is not sufficient for career advancement on its own.

The practical implication of this is significant. Pham (2020) found that 45% of graduates secured their first role through personal introduction — not through formal job applications. For career-changer migrants, this statistic has particular weight: the professional network they spent a decade building is, for most practical purposes, inaccessible from New Zealand. They are not starting from zero in experience. But they are starting from zero in local networks. And local networks and connections are how most people here actually get hired.

The Support Gap: Why Generic Career Advice Isn’t Enough

When Aria came to see me, she expected we would focus on CV formatting and interview technique. She was six months from completing her Master’s and thinking in tactical terms.

What she needed was a different kind of conversation entirely.

Me: “You’ve got great experience, and New Zealand employers will respect that. But what they’re also asking themselves is: does this person understand how things work here? Can they navigate Kiwi workplace culture? Do they have connections in the local community? Those things are harder to show on a CV, which is exactly why we need to start building them now.”

Han et al. (2022) identify this as a meso-level challenge — not a gap in individual capability, but in the institutional and organisational supports surrounding international graduates. Career services may be limited in scope due to resourcing constraints, or oriented toward the local student who is still deciding what to do with their degree. The career-changer migrant — who already knows exactly what they want — needs something different: structured planning support, and quickly.

Zikic and Klehe (2021) found that it is career planning, not career exploration, that predicts employment quality nine months later. Students who moved early into goal-directed planning — a specific target sector, a realistic entry-level role, a timeline, a network-building strategy — achieved significantly better outcomes. The implication is clear: the first advisory conversation with a career-changer migrant should begin shifting them from orientation into planning. For this cohort, open-ended exploration is a luxury they cannot afford.

Research on the  education-migration nexus in Australia  found that many experienced international student migrants describe their trajectory as resembling an endurance race — requiring sacrifice and resilience they had not anticipated (Tran et al., 2025). Many ended up in roles well below their previous seniority, not through lack of capability, but simply to keep the migration pathway open. This is the predictable shape of a transition that is poorly mapped in advance. Career practitioners who understand this can reframe it as a phase — one with a logic and a timeline — rather than leaving students to encounter it as an unexpected and demoralising surprise.

Volunteering as Community Entry: Building the Network That Gets You Hired

When I told Aria that volunteering should be her immediate priority, she heard it as advice to fill a gap on her CV. I had to reframe it — that volunteering was meaningful way to understand local culture and contribute to a community.

Me: “This isn’t about your CV. You already have plenty for a CV. This is about building the network that will get you introduced to the role you actually want. In New Zealand, that network starts in the community. Volunteering is how you enter communities you’re not yet part of.”

A New Zealand-based longitudinal study by Soltani and Donald (2024) provides a framework for understanding volunteering and community engagement as part of career planning.  Their study of postgraduate students — including international students from Asia — found that participation in a landscape of practice: engagement across multiple communities including volunteer organisations, student networks, church groups, and workplace settings, was the primary mechanism through which international students built social and cultural capital simultaneously. International students engaged in significantly more boundary encounters — deliberate crossings into new communities — than their domestic peers, because their existing networks simply did not transfer.

For the career-changer migrant, this is the critical insight: volunteering is not just a a quick way to get local experience. It is the means by which you enter the social fabric that underpins life in New Zealand. ISANA New Zealand notes that community engagement is viewed on CVs here not merely as initiative, but as a signal of cultural integration — of genuine commitment to belonging, not just to working.

Soltani and Donald also found that lecturers and institutional contacts played a bridging role — providing access to professional networks that international students could not yet reach independently. This is why alumni mentoring programmes, employer engagement events, and career expos are not optional extras for this cohort. They are the scaffolding that makes boundary encounters possible before students have built enough local presence to create them on their own.

Practical starting points for career-changer migrants like Aria include the university’s volunteering and leadership programme for students, Volunteer Wellington, and the Yes for Success work experience programme. Student clubs and professional associations offer lower-stakes entry points — places to build intercultural fluency and local presence before taking it into job interviews.

Your Strengths Are Real — Here Is How to Deploy Them

If you are the career-changer migrant reading this, here is what the research — and career practitioners working with this cohort — want you to hear:

You are not starting over. You are carrying a decade or more of professional experience, cross-cultural competence, and the kind of resilience that comes from making a major life transition deliberately and with clear purpose. What changes is not your capability — it is the context in which it needs to be demonstrated, and the strategies needed to activate it.

Zikic and Klehe (2021) found that two personal resources were the strongest predictors of quality employment for skilled migrants: proactivity and social support. Proactivity — the disposition to take initiative, anticipate challenges, act before problems compound — was one of the most powerful factors in their model. If you have built a career across global organisations, you almost certainly have this. The task is to direct it toward the right strategies in the New Zealand context, rather than doubling down on the job application process alone.

Pham et al. (2024) identified six forms of capital that international graduates draw on: human (qualifications and skills), social (networks), cultural (local norms), identity (professional self-concept), psychological (resilience), and agentic — the capacity to develop strategies that effectively mobilise the other five based on one’s background, expertise, and context. The most successful graduates were not those with the strongest qualifications. They were those who understood which capital to activate, and when. The career-changer migrant typically has all six. What they often lack is a clear map of how to deploy them in New Zealand.

Soltani and Donald (2024) add a further dimension: psychological capital and career agency — the growing sense, developed through active community participation, that one has the confidence and capacity to shape one’s own trajectory. For mid-career professionals who have been highly effective in their home context and find themselves suddenly uncertain, this is often the most fragile dimension, and the most important to rebuild. It is restored not through reflection alone, but through action — through showing up, contributing, and being seen.

Rebuilding agency is further supported by intentional support. Pham (2023) found that international graduates who developed stronger employability outcomes were those who engaged in active self-reflection about their cultural backgrounds and strengths — making their identity and psychological capital visible to themselves, and to employers. Career practitioners can create the conditions for that reflection: through structured programmes, mentoring, and coaching that help career-changer migrants name and deploy what they already have, while building the context-specific knowledge the local market requires.

For Aria, that meant being explicit about how to access the alumni mentoring programme and decoding the unwritten rules of networking in New Zealand. For example, attending a career expo was reframed: not as an opportunity to hand out CVs, but as a chance to practise talking to employers about genuine interest in their work and to build the kind of connections that convert, over time, into introductions. As career practitioners, we are building a bridge between the capabilities our students already have and the context they are learning to work within.

The career you want in New Zealand will not come from your CV alone. It will come from the community you build here. That is not a setback — it is an invitation.

For Advisors and Institutions: Five Principles for Supporting This Cohort

The career-changer migrant requires a distinct approach. Not more intensive support — different support. The following principles are drawn from the research and from practice.

1. Name the credential trap early, and name it with care.  Many in this cohort arrive with a well-developed but incomplete theory of how their qualifications will translate. Zikic and Klehe (2021) are explicit: migrants need to understand that credential-based entry does not guarantee success, and that their own agency is crucial. This conversation, done well, is one of the most valuable a career advisor can offer. Done too bluntly, it can undermine confidence at a vulnerable moment. The frame matters: this is not bad news about their qualifications — it is important information about how New Zealand works.

2. Move from exploration to structured planning — and do it early.  Career exploration alone does not predict employment quality. Career planning does. The first advisory conversation should begin to establish a specific target sector, a realistic entry point, a timeline, and a network-building strategy. Orientation is not enough for this cohort.

3. Reframe volunteering as community entry, not CV building.  In New Zealand, community engagement is a structural pathway to the social capital and cultural familiarity that employers screen for. Experienced professionals will take this seriously when it is framed as the deliberate, evidence-based strategy it is — not as a suggestion to fill gaps on a CV.

4. Be the bridge.  Soltani and Donald (2024) found that lecturers and institutional contacts play a critical role in providing access to professional networks that international students cannot yet independently reach. Mentoring programmes, alumni connections, and employer engagement are not optional extras for this cohort. They are the scaffolding. Actively connect career-changer migrants to these from the outset.

5. Set honest expectations about the transition.  The likely step down in seniority or salary in the first role is real and, in most cases, temporary. Han et al. (2022) note that overeducation experienced as permanent — rather than as a phase — is what damages life satisfaction. Helping students name this as a predictable transition, not a verdict on their worth, requires sensitive and careful reframing — and it is work only a trusted advisor can do.

It Takes a Community

Just as it takes a village to raise a child, it takes a community to support the career-changer migrant in their journey. They have made one of the most significant decisions a person can make — to leave behind a country, a professional network, a social world built over decades, in pursuit of a better life for themselves and their family. More than a CV review, they need a community willing to receive them.

That community is made up of many people, each with a different role. Career advisors who unpack the hidden job market with care. Lecturers who open their networks. Volunteer coordinators who welcome newcomers without requiring existing connections. Employers who understand that cultural fit is something that can be learned, and that the capacity to build it is itself a skill. Alumni who remember what the transition felt like and make themselves available to those who are in the middle of it.

Soltani and Donald’s (2024) research found that what developed students’ employability and psychological wellbeing was not any single programme or intervention. It was the accumulation of boundary encounters — small moments of connection across difference, each one building the familiarity and belonging that eventually becomes, for want of a better word, home. Research cannot mandate those encounters into existence. People do. Institutions do. Communities do.

For the career-changer migrant: your experience matters. Your qualifications matter. And the community you build here will matter most of all. Start building it now — through a volunteer shift, a student club meeting, an alumni coffee, a conversation with a stranger who might become a colleague. The path to the career you came here for runs through people. It is not a detour. It is a map full of possibilities.

For everyone who works alongside them: the village is not a metaphor. It is the job.

References

Han, Y., Gulanowski, D., & Sears, G. J. (2022). International student graduates’ workforce integration: A systematic review. International Journal of Intercultural Relations, 86, 163–189. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ijintrel.2021.11.003 

ISANA NZ. (n.d.). Encouraging international student engagement with the community. Student Experience Information. https://www.isana.nz/toolkit/student-experience-information/encouraging-international-student-engagement-with-the-community 

Pham, T. (2020, July 22). Social capital’s role in graduate employment success – Monash Lens. https://lens.monash.edu/social-capitals-key-role-in-lifting-graduate-employment-outcomes/ 

Pham, T. (2023). Strategies Undertaken by International Graduates to Negotiate Employability. In Rethinking Graduate Employability in Context (pp. 299–318). Springer International Publishing. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-20653-5_14 

Pham, T., Soltani, B., & Singh, J. K. N. (2024). Employability capitals as essential resources for employment obtainment and career sustainability of international graduates. Journal of Further and Higher Education, 48(4), 436–448. https://doi.org/10.1080/0309877x.2024.2344771 

Roskruge, M., & Poot, J. (2025). Evidence of the effects of ethnic diversity, years of residence, and location on migrant bridging, bonding, and linking, social capital: a New Zealand synthesis. Asia-Pacific Journal of Regional Science, 9(3), 831–867. https://doi.org/10.1007/s41685-025-00386-6 

Soltani, B., & Donald, W. E. (2024). A landscape of practice approach to enhance employability: insights from domestic and international postgraduates. Higher Education, Skills and Work-Based Learning, 14(6), 1340–1353. https://doi.org/10.1108/heswbl-11-2023-0320 

Tran, L. T., Tan, G., Bui, H., & Rahimi, M. (2025). Evolving pathways: From the education-migration nexus to the education-work-migration nexus in Australia. Journal of Sociology, 61(2), 273–290. https://doi.org/10.1177/14407833241311240 

Udayanga, S. (2024). Challenges in navigating the education-migration pathways, and subjective well-being of highly educated immigrants: the case of Indian student immigrants in the United Kingdom. Frontiers in Sociology, 9. https://doi.org/10.3389/fsoc.2024.1385664 

Zikic, J., & Klehe, U. (2021). Going against the grain: The role of skilled migrants’ self‐regulation in finding quality employment. Journal of Organizational Behavior, 42(8), 1023–1041. https://doi.org/10.1002/job.2550

Portfolio careers are increasingly important in a disruptive labour market.
Image by Markus Winkler from Pixabay

The Portfolio Career I Didn’t Know I Was Building

The world feels more uncertain than it was before. Yet I’ve never felt more sure about the kind of career I want. 

That’s not to say I know exactly what role I’ll land in five years or which skills I’ll need to master next. Job titles and roles matter—they help you understand required capabilities and map stepping stones forward. I’ve used this approach many times, and it’s served me well.

But I’m entering a new phase of career thinking. Rather than chase the next job with its narrow definitions and built-in limitations, I want to cultivate my own unique suite of skills and expertise that leads to interesting, challenging opportunities.

Enter the portfolio career.

The Era of Portfolio Careers Has Arrived

We’ve long thought of careers as ladders to climb—promotions, better pay, prestigious titles. That paradigm is all but outdated.

The OECD confirms what many already know: 21st-century career paths have become increasingly fluid. Workers change jobs, employers, and entire careers more frequently than past generations. Average job tenure has declined across OECD countries. U.S. data shows baby boomers held nearly 13 jobs over their working lives, with surveys suggesting half of all workers undergo a complete career change during their lifetime.

“The successful career of the future is not a ladder to climb. It’s a portfolio to curate.” — April Rinne, futurist

Rapid technological change and labour market disruption mean we must adapt continuously, develop new skills, and sometimes change careers entirely. Unlike a job that can be lost, your portfolio career—the collection of skills, experiences, and capabilities you’ve built—is yours forever.

Portfolio careers are especially relevant for international professionals who have crossed borders, rebuilt careers in new countries, learnt whole new cultures, and navigated challenges of visas, identity, and belonging.

This isn’t a trendy concept. It describes what we’ve been doing all along—whether for advancement or survival—even when we didn’t have language to name it.

So how can we better appreciate our own portfolio careers?

Taking inspiration from Agile methodology, I suggest doing a career retrospective: a structured reflection on your journey to date, examining all your roles (paid and unpaid, including volunteering), and discovering themes and threads.

My Career Retrospective: 25 Roles in 25 Years

When I list everything I’ve done from my first gig out of high school to now, I count 25+ roles spanning 25+ years.

My laundry list includes: piano teacher, lifestyle writer, dance company manager, English teacher, conflict management trainer, business communications lecturer, researcher, student association president, business development manager, principal advisor to a deputy secretary, social media manager, board member, worship leader, and university career consultant.

One could call it chaotic. To a recruiter, it might seem like a bewildering collection of disparate roles, leaving them wondering what kind of career chameleon they’re dealing with.

But how about poetic? From a young age, I’ve been driven by curiosity and purpose, following personal interests rather than conventional pathways. Each role represents a desire to pursue passion, help people, or contribute to something bigger than myself.

Photo by Ian Schneider on Unsplash

The Early Years: Passion vs. Pragmatism

The coolest role I had at university was arts and film reviewer for an e-zine set up by enterprising students starting their web hosting business. The gig didn’t pay, but spending evenings watching theatre, dance productions, and countless films for free was payment enough. Critiquing performances and narratives was the highest form of self-actualisation for an arts student majoring in English.

After graduation, I worked in the dot-com sector as it was about to bubble-burst, moved to arts management, then teaching. I constantly felt tension between passion and pragmatism in my home country of Singapore. My peers were well ahead in their established careers while I worried about my CV, which screamed “job-hopper” from day one.

The Settling Down Phase: Getting “Real”

When I was ready to settle down and start a family, I was determined to hang up my footloose approach and get serious about a “real job.” I interviewed for a conflict management trainer role that felt very much in my element. I was video recorded doing a mock training session which felt natural, thanks to past teaching gigs and high school drama productions.

Then came the chat with the big boss. She was concerned about my CV: “Can you actually stay in this job?” I played my adulting card—all truth, no fluff. She later told me: “If it wasn’t for your video, we wouldn’t have given your CV a second look.”

Life stage and family responsibilities changed everything. I was looking for stability and professional growth, which I found in training and education roles. I spent 10 years sharpening my trainer’s toolkit, honing my teaching craft, delving into pedagogies, and completing my Master of Arts in Teaching. There was great satisfaction doing meaningful work through my skills and talents, yet a restlessness tugged at my sensibilities.

The Big Leap: PhD and Migration

That restlessness led to another life-changing transition. Inspired by theories and research I’d spent long hours writing about for my Master’s, I wanted to go further. I decided I wanted to do a PhD in Education with dreams of becoming an academic. I also wanted my family to experience something new, for my children to enjoy their childhood, and to take this calculated risk before we got too comfortable.

We moved to New Zealand where I started a new role as a PhD candidate and threw myself wholeheartedly into academia and research.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Making Sense of the Pattern

How could I make sense of all these roles?

Analysing them using Holland Codes (RIASEC personality types) revealed this: I have a Social-Enterprising-Artistic (SEA) profile. Social is clearly dominant, Enterprising a strong secondary, and Artistic significant. Conventional and Investigative are moderate, while Realistic is non-existent.

Whilst people usually take the profile test to explore related jobs, this reverse analysis helped me appreciate something profound: The SEA profile isn’t just about job preferences or job fit. It reveals my desire to combine social, enterprising, and artistic elements in my work. Or put another way: to be someone who influences and develops people, spearheads projects, and offers creative and original insights.

The portfolio I built was invisible to me for years because I measured it against conventional markers of progress and prestige, even whilst trying to explore alternative directions.

Seven Years of Change, Challenge, and Completion

This realisation emerged recently whilst reflecting on my original migration plans and PhD dreams. Serendipitously, it’s been seven years since completing my PhD.

Seven years. That’s how long it took from completing my PhD in Education at the University of Waikato to finding my way back to a university setting, but in a role I never imagined when I submitted my thesis.

Seven years often represents a period of completion, transformation, and cycles. When I walked across that graduation stage, I carried dreams of an academic career: publications, teaching positions, research grants. That was the primary motivator for moving countries and uprooting my family. The academic career seemed like a natural progression from teaching in higher education, and a worthy, family-proud career I would add.

Photo by MD Duran on Unsplash

The pathway I envisioned was clear and conventional. What I got instead was seven years of non-academic roles where I swapped my academic identity for a professional one that felt strange at first but grew in skills, knowledge, and networks over time. It was difficult to admit I’d “failed” to become an academic. I used to joke that I was a “recovering academic” when I first started my professional role.

But looking at those seven years through an emotional lens, I also recall the roller coaster: rejection and reinvention, success and shattered plans. The search for academic jobs felt hopeful but grew hopeless through successive rejections. Then came a career consultant role for new migrants that was supposed to be temporary but led to pragmatic considerations of stable income. A pivot into government work took me further from my academic identity, yet the professional environment was exciting and rewarding. Just when I thought I’d made impressive strides, involuntary redundancy forced me to consider returning to Singapore, questioning whether migration itself had been a mistake.

The roller coaster graph of those seven years ends on a high with my current role as university career consultant. Climbing from rock bottom to this high point was no magic wand, quick career hack, or pure dumb luck. I was forced to consider all options, dig deep, and get uncomfortable with worst-case scenarios. The Social-Enterprising-Artistic aspects of my career personality jostled for attention. I felt drawn to roles that gave me the most energy and hope.

At any point during those seven years, if you’d asked about my career, I would have simply answered with facts, stating the job I had or that I was looking for one.

But here’s what hindsight reveals: I was building a portfolio career all along. I just couldn’t see it because it’s very hard to avoid measuring yourself against conventional markers of progress and prestige, even when you’re consciously trying to explore alternative directions.

When Your PhD Feels Like a Cruel Joke

PhD students often indulge in cruel optimism – the doctoral aspiration for academic life despite depressing realities of limited opportunities and precarious pathways. I was truly an optimist, feeling ultra-motivated to publish, attend conferences, and do everything possible to increase my academic capital and beat the odds.

My PhD research focused on peer brokering practices amongst international learners, specifically how students navigate culturally relevant connections and networks to succeed in unfamiliar academic environments. I understood, intellectually and personally, what it meant to be an outsider trying to find my way. I’d lived it as a Singaporean Chinese in New Zealand: trying to explain who I was culturally and ethnically to a largely disinterested audience, working hard and speaking out to prove naysayers wrong, always seeking connections and networks that understood my work and identity.

Cruel optimism ran its course. Urgent pragmatism loomed large in the rearview mirror.

The cruel part wasn’t just the reality of the academic job market and short-term contracts, but that being migrant, Asian, Chinese, unconventional, and assertive was a mixed bag of traits that didn’t quite fit the people, place, and perspective where I was situated.

With my PhD degree done and dusted, it was a full-time paid job that would keep my migrant dreams alive, not a half-baked notion of someday getting an academic position. Because that’s what migration demands. You can’t afford idealism when you need to prove economic value whilst still establishing your foothold in a new country.

The Invisible Portfolio I Was Actually Building

They say hindsight is 20/20. Commenting on the past seems easy when you know the outcome. But that clarity is only useful if it’s meaningful and teaches lessons for the future.

What do my aha moments tell me about myself, my career, and my future?

Phase 1: Getting a Foot in the Door (The Accidental Job)

When I took the career consultant role working with new migrants, it felt like survival mode. Ditching the academic dream for a job. A foot in the door to the public sector. Something to pay bills whilst figuring out what came next.

What it looked like then: A compromise. Moving away from academia and research. Leaving behind the identity I’d worked so hard to build.

What I can see now: This role built new knowledge structures of the public sector and provided the very foundation of my career practice today. I was developing:

  • Deep empathy through shared experience: I wasn’t just helping migrants; I was one. I understood the disorientation, the pressure to prove yourself, the exhaustion of constant cultural translation.
  • The art of brokering in practice: My research had been about peer brokering. Now I was doing it professionally by connecting people to resources, translating between cultural contexts, helping others navigate unfamiliar systems.
  • Client-centred coaching skills: Every conversation required listening beneath the surface, understanding what people weren’t saying, recognising cultural dimensions of career aspirations.
  • Knowledge of settlement systems: I was learning the landscape of migration support, policy, and barriers—knowledge that grew my systems thinking and analysis skills.

This wasn’t just a job. It was an apprenticeship in policy implementation and cross-cultural career development that no academic position could have provided.

Phase 2: Embracing a New Professional Mindset (Switching Track)

The pathway into government jobs took me even further from what I thought I wanted. Policy. Stakeholder management. Bureaucratic processes. This wasn’t education. This wasn’t research. This was a completely different professional culture.

What it looked like then: I was losing my academic identity. Becoming someone else. Forced in a different direction.

What I can see now: I was gaining dual citizenship in academic and professional cultures—an attribute I didn’t think much of before but has provided unique credibility to different audiences. I developed:

  • Policy thinking: Understanding how systems work, how decisions get made, how to navigate institutional structures
  • Stakeholder management across differences: Working with diverse groups, building consensus, translating between organisational languages
  • Public sector networks: Connections across government agencies, exposure to how settlement and education policy machinery actually operates
  • Institutional navigation skills: The patience to work within complex systems, the strategic thinking to influence them

I was learning my identity didn’t have to be either/or. I could hold both academic researcher and government professional. I could maintain my “north star” of international education whilst being pragmatic about where I worked. In fact, that north star helped me land a job at Education New Zealand as business development manager.

However, holding two identities also taught me that working in government was less about asserting personal authoritative expertise and more about implementing policies of the government of the day, regardless of opinion or perspective.

Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay

Phase 3: Contributing to Causes and Networks (Keeping My Passion Alive)

Throughout my government years, I never stopped watching for opportunities related to my research interests: international students, migration, cross-cultural engagement, supporting ethnic communities. 

I initiated Lunar New Year celebrations at my workplace. I was an active member of the Pan-Asian Public Sector Network. I applied successfully to be a board member of English Language Partners (New Zealand’s largest provider of English language training to migrants and former refugees). I maintained connections with academic friends and professional associations, and wrote about my passion topics on my blog.

What it looked like then: Scattered focus. Trying to be someone I couldn’t really be anymore. Not knowing where passion projects were leading—maybe a dead end.

What I can see now: This was planned happenstance in action, the career theory by John Krumboltz about creating and transforming unplanned events into opportunities. I was engaging in:

  • Strategic networking: Building bridges between sectors, creating weak ties that Mark Granovetter’s research showed would be more valuable than strong ties
  • Domain expertise maintenance: Supporting and advocating for cross-cultural engagement and inclusion even whilst working in completely different areas, ensuring I could speak both languages when opportunities arose
  • Persistence without rigidity: Having direction without being so attached to specific outcomes that I missed other possibilities

I also wonder if keeping passion alive with these extracurricular activities was the extra fuel that kept me motivated in my day job, especially when work demands zapped all optimistic energy from my tank.

Career transitions aren’t just about skills and opportunities. They’re about identity, belonging, and the courage to rebuild yourself when your plans fall apart.

Phase 4: Losing My Job and Feeling Like a Loser (Hitting Rock Bottom)

When the notice of redundancy came, I felt I was free-falling. No government job. Few alternatives. A good track record and previous connections seemed to count for little when everyone else had those things too.

It felt like reliving the cruel optimism of pursuing a PhD but worse. I had overcome, I had succeeded, and now I’d fallen off what looked like the highest rung, with no substitute in sight. Was someone punishing me for thinking I could make it this far?

Urgent pragmatism reared its fat, ugly head. Should I stay or should I go? Should I return to Singapore? Had my PhD and all these years establishing my New Zealand career been for nothing?

What it looked like then: Failure. Career stagnation. The end of my New Zealand story.

What I can see now: This forced pause helped me pull together my portfolio career elements. Now both content and process are key components of my training and coaching practice. I gained:

  • Clarity about values: When considering leaving a country, you discover what actually matters. I had to articulate why I wanted to stay, what New Zealand meant to me, what kind of work would be meaningful.
  • Resilience through radical uncertainty: I learnt to sit with not knowing. To hold multiple possibilities without immediately needing resolution. To be reminded that man proposes, but God disposes, and that God ultimately directs my steps and determines my outcomes.
  • Introspection as a practice: The ability to examine my assumptions, challenge my own narratives, and ask hard questions became a skill I could offer others.
  • Normalising ‘return’ without shame: Many international professionals face this crossroads. I learnt that considering all options, including returning home, isn’t failure. Despite the social stigma of a failed migration story (common in many Asian cultures), I consider it a blessing to be able to have the option of returning home when others may not have such a choice. It’s a choice worthy of consideration that holds potential benefit.

This period taught me something important about career transition: 

It’s not just about transferrable skills and opportunities. It’s about identity, belonging, and the courage to rebuild when plans fall apart.

During this time, I took steps to explore what I’d been interested in for ages, what was part and parcel of an academic’s job, what I’d done professionally as corporate trainer and lecturer, and engaged in when mentoring junior staff and organising onboarding programmes: training and coaching.

I started looking into professional development programmes, getting credentialled for past experience and skills, volunteering my training and coaching services to not-for-profits. The more I did it, the more alive I felt. I was once again in my element!

Attaining professional membership with the Career Development Association of New Zealand was a milestone of gigantic proportions. It validated this: that my PhD in Education and previous teaching, coaching, and career development experience had not been in vain. In fact, all of it was highly valuable for the work of a careers practitioner.

Phase 5: University Career Consultant (Full Circle Integration)

After more than 20 job applications and rejections, whilst exploring and experimenting with training and coaching, a job ad caught my attention: Career Consultant, Victoria University of Wellington. This was a role I’d been practising for months, work I’d done before, in an environment I was highly attracted to. I interviewed successfully for the role, and when I started, it felt absolutely right from day one.

It wasn’t the academic role I’d once clamoured for, but I was working in an educational and intellectual environment promoting student success and supporting equity groups like international and refugee-background students. Not only was I doing meaningful work with direct impact, I genuinely felt welcomed, included, and valued for my knowledge and contributions. Turns out my PhD and all those publications and conferences had built a reputation I didn’t know existed!

What it looked like then: Finally arriving. Coming home.

What I can see now: This role was only possible because of everything that came before. I didn’t return to the university. I arrived as someone completely different.

I brought:

  • Lived experience of migration that allows me to truly understand international students
  • Government systems knowledge that helps me navigate institutional contexts
  • Cross-cultural coaching expertise developed through working in multicultural Singapore and with new migrants in New Zealand
  • Research credentials that give me credibility in an academic environment
  • Brokering skills I can now teach explicitly, drawing on both my PhD research and professional practice

The portfolio I built wasn’t the one I planned. It was more meaningful, more multifaceted, and more transferable than I could have imagined.

Hindsight is 20/20, but only if you’re willing to look back and name what you’ve built. Only if you’re willing to let go of the portfolio you planned and embrace the one you actually have.

The Portfolio Career You Have Is Often Not the One You Planned

When I look back at those seven years between PhD and university career consultant, I don’t see wasted time anymore. I see a portfolio that emerged through lived experience, adaptive responses, and willingness to learn from unexpected places.

The portfolio I built was invisible to me for years because I only saw what was important for my current job and immediate future. I thought success meant getting the job you trained for, getting promoted, getting more money.

But the career retrospective helped me see that where I am today isn’t just a result of accumulated skills, knowledge, and experience. My career personality profile of Social-Enterprising-Artistic was seeded during university, evolved over different life stages, and very much fuelled the career choices and life decisions I’ve made.

Image by Vilius Kukanauskas from Pixabay

Here’s the paradox I’ve come to understand: even as I consciously tried to chart a different course, I found myself unconsciously measuring progress against traditional markers like job titles, seniority levels, institutional prestige. It’s incredibly difficult to fully let go of these ingrained metrics, even when intellectually you know they don’t capture the full picture of career growth. The tension between exploring new directions and seeking validation through conventional markers was constant. Only in retrospect can I see that the real progress was happening in the very moments I thought I was “falling behind.”

Hindsight is 20/20, but only if you’re willing to look back and name what you’ve built. Only if you’re willing to let go of the portfolio you planned and embrace the one you actually have.

An Invitation to Be Intentional

What hidden portfolio have you been building?

Look back at your career path, especially the parts that felt like failures or detours.

  • What were you actually learning?
  • What skills were you developing that you’ve never named?
  • What connections were you making that seemed peripheral but turned out essential?

The career you have is often different from the one you planned. But different doesn’t mean lesser. It may be richer than you thought, more resilient than you realise, and truly unique and yours to own.


Dr Sherrie Lee is a career coach for cross-cultural and mid-career transitions. She helps international professionals build networks and thrive in new work cultures. Her lived experience as a migrant, research on knowledge brokering, and active professional networks give her a unique perspective on staying resilient and future-ready amid career uncertainty and disruption. Connect with her at thediasporicacademic.com

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