After seventeen years of marriage, I found myself divorced, co-parenting, and facing two of life’s most daunting transitions at once: reentering the dating world and buying a new home. The reasons were many: parenting stressors, mid-life transitions, childhood wounds, and outside influences. There was no doubt that my career as a full-time, call-taking anesthesiologist also played a role. While the brutal 24-hour calls and 80-hour weeks were mostly behind me, their impact lingered. That chapter of my life, difficult as it was, left me staring down the uncharted territory of building a new life from the ground up. Dating and house-hunting felt overwhelming, awkward, and lonely, yet equally novel and exciting. They challenged me individually to dig deeper into my wants and needs for the next chapter of my life solo. In both cases, I found a surprising ally: technology.
Initially, dating apps felt as one might expect, superficial and impersonal. Curated photos, bios, and prompts begging for cleverness. It all felt artificial and inauthentic. But after years of rigid schedules and clinical grind, being able to scroll and date on my time was exactly what I needed. It was a healthy distraction that was ever-present on my phone. Of course, I was encouraged to meet someone in real life or through hobbies, but I wasn’t about to date someone in the hospital, and my hobbies were limited to post-call naps and mental health workouts. The apps were the best option, offering a chance to meet new and unique people without pressure. Swiping felt like a metaphor for control. I could filter by age, values, or proximity. I could start a conversation or not. I could continue or pause without guilt. There was no obligation, just options. And best of all, it gave me space to reflect before jumping in. What was I really looking for? Was I looking for something serious, or was I just curious? The app didn’t care. It met me where I was and respected my time.
At the same time, I was selling the home I thought I’d raise my kids in and searching for something new. It was exhausting, but again, technology was my ally. Zillow and Realtor.com became my virtual realtors. I could explore neighborhoods, attend virtual tours, and bookmark listings late at night between cases or before bed. The house I ended up buying? I first found it online. When I listed my old house, I could track interest digitally: saves, traffic data, and showing requests. It was anonymous but illuminating. Technology gave me insight without demanding any of my time. I didn’t need to wait for a phone call or leave the OR to know people were looking. In the end, my house had over 3,000 views and 500 saves, and no doubt, the new owners found it online as well.
Now, after tackling two major stressors, I’m considering another: a job change and a fresh start. Maybe I’ll try a new city, or maybe a new role, but this time I don’t have my great ally: technology. There’s no modern technology for finding a job in medicine; in fact, we have almost the complete opposite. We have snail mail postcards promising me to “live and work where others vacation”, email blasts with limited details, cold-calls from recruiters that probably bought all my contact information, and endless text messaging about open opportunities in states I would never live in. None of this feels respectful or efficient; in fact, it feels dirty, corrupt, and entirely outside of my control.
These recruiters often earn $30,000 to $50,000 per placement. No wonder they’re persistent and leveraging every medium to get my attention and my CV. But here’s the deal, I don’t want to be hounded and chased. Sometimes I just want to browse out of curiosity, without the fear that one click will tip off a recruiter and unleash an avalanche of inbounds. I want to explore jobs with the same privacy and autonomy I had when I was dating or house-hunting. I want filters for call schedules, benefits, practice models, and location. I want profiles with transparency and reviews. I want to browse discreetly on my time, on my phone, and without pressure.
The systems exist. We’ve seen them in dating and real estate. They give people control, privacy, and empowerment. Why can’t we have that in medicine? Physicians need a career platform built for us: one that lets us explore without being pursued, compare offers without committing, and engage on our terms. It should be guided by choice and respect, and not dictated by a recruiter’s persistence. Let us control the pace. Let us opt in.
Rob Anderson is a practicing anesthesiologist and the physician co-founder of Marit Health, which is bringing salary transparency and a modern job board to medicine.
