The Hidden Dangers of Being Overqualified in Job Markets

Work, Power & Systems

Overqualified Isn’t a Compliment. It’s a Risk Flag.

Standing on the Ledge — Chapter 2

At one point, I used to think experience was currency. That if you ran crews, managed clients, signed paychecks, kept the lights on—someone would see that and go: Good. He can handle it.

I’m learning there’s a sociological rule nobody tells you: the higher you’ve been, the more dangerous you look to someone who’s hiring you to stay low.

Because when I apply for work now, I can feel the questions sitting behind the silence. Why is this guy here? Is he trying to slip in and take over? Is he going to leave the second his own thing comes back to life? Is he going to resent the role and poison the room? Is he a flight risk with a pulse?

And here’s the part that makes me swallow hard: I used to think like that too. When I reviewed resumes, I sometimes looked at certain histories and thought, Why are they applying here? They could be doing my job. I never fully sat with the quieter reality: maybe they don’t want the big picture anymore. Maybe they want their life back. Maybe they want to simplify.

That’s where I am. I don’t want to run the whole machine. I want to go in, do the work, come home—and shut off. I don’t want payroll in my head at midnight. I don’t want invoices haunting my weekends. I don’t want the constant background calculation of coverage and call-outs and client satisfaction and whether the 3:00 shift will even show up. I want the kind of tired that ends when the day ends.

But institutions don’t read it that way. They read signals. They manage risk. And “overqualified” is a signal employers often interpret as instability: boredom, dissatisfaction, turnover, or a hidden agenda. Research on perceived overqualification repeatedly ties it to assumptions about lower fit and higher intent to leave—whether those assumptions are fair or not.1 Hiring managers aren’t only choosing skill; they’re choosing predictability.

Sociologically, this is where the “private trouble” becomes a public pattern. Mills called it the sociological imagination: the ability to connect what feels like an individual problem to the larger structures shaping it. My silence in the hiring pipeline isn’t only about me. It’s also about how organizations protect hierarchy, control, and continuity—how they select for people who look “containable.”2

And Durkheim helps name the emotional static underneath it. When the old role collapses and the new one isn’t stable yet, you don’t just lose income. You lose a set of norms that made you legible—to yourself and to others. That disorientation has a word: anomie—instability that follows when standards and expectations break down and you’re left without the old coordinates.3

So here’s the strange corner I’m standing in: I’m trying to move down on purpose—toward less responsibility, less cognitive load, less constant vigilance— but the system reads “down” as suspicious. It treats simplification like deception.

And maybe that’s the real lesson I missed when I was “above”: status changes don’t just change your pay. They change how people interpret your motives. They change what you’re allowed to want without being questioned.

Covey’s language gives me one clean handle in the middle of that mess: focus on what I can control and influence, not what I can’t. I can’t control how a hiring manager projects intent onto my history. But I can control how I explain the downshift, how I frame stability, and what kind of work-life boundary I’m choosing on purpose.4

So this is a note for me—and maybe for anyone who’s ever looked “too much” on paper: sometimes the goal isn’t climbing. Sometimes the goal is getting your life back. And sometimes the bravest thing you can do is admit you don’t want the crown anymore.

One line I am keeping.
One boundary I am setting.
One step for tomorrow.

Godspeed.

References

  1. Piotrowska, M. et al. “Job attributes affect the relationship between perceived overqualification and employee retention.” (Open-access article, 2022). Source
  2. Mills, C. Wright. “The Promise,” The Sociological Imagination (1959) (Chapter 1 PDF). Source
  3. Encyclopaedia Britannica. “Anomie.” (Updated Nov. 11, 2025). Source
  4. FranklinCovey. “Habit 1: Be Proactive® (Circle of Influence®).” Source

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Published by Lugh Sulian

Lugh Sulian Standing on the Ledge · Rebuilding from the Rubble Lugh Sulian is a working name for a working moment. This profile exists to hold Standing on the Ledge: Rebuilding from the Rubble—an ongoing, real-time record of what happens after collapse, when old rules stop functioning and new ones haven’t yet earned trust. This is not myth reenactment. Not spiritual bypass. Not curated healing. It’s a field journal from the threshold. The name Lugh points toward skill, clarity, and responsibility carried with awareness. Sulian gestures toward sight—what can be seen when illusion drops away and pretending becomes too expensive. Together, they frame the posture of this work: to look clearly, act deliberately, and refuse to rebuild what already failed. Through short-form video, spoken reflection, and long-form writing, this project explores: Collapse without spectacle Responsibility without authority Burnout as a systems problem, not a personal flaw Pagan cycles as lived practice, not aesthetic Small fires instead of grand rebuilds This space is intentionally unfinished. It documents: Standing still without freezing Moving forward without rushing Learning from rubble instead of hiding it Unplugged-Pagan.com serves as the grounding—seasonal awareness, ritual stripped of performance, and meaning built from experience rather than doctrine. Standing on the Ledge is one expression of that grounding, focused on the human cost of broken systems and the slow work of rebuilding integrity. This is not a teaching platform. It’s a shared watchpost. If you’re here, you’re likely between versions of yourself—tired, alert, uncertain, and still standing. You don’t need answers yet. You need honesty, boundaries, and permission to move at the speed of truth. No conclusions offered. No certainty promised. Still on the ledge. Still watching. Still working the rubble. Godspeed. Optional Short Versions (for profile headers or bios) Short bio (Facebook / site header): Threshold work. Pagan-rooted, process-driven. Documenting collapse, clarity, and the refusal to rebuild what failed.

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