Success Fee Recruitment: The Art of Exploiting People Who Find People

In the savage wilderness of contingent recruitment, it’s not about thriving; it’s about surviving—barely. External recruiters enter the fray with nothing more than a LinkedIn Premium subscription, a perpetually drained phone battery, and the faint hope that this might just be the placement that pays the rent. Their mission? To uncover the elusive "perfect candidate," someone so impeccably qualified they’d make even the pickiest hiring manager nod in approval. The twist? The company probably never intended to hire through them in the first place.

Let’s call it what it is: a bloodsport. But instead of swords, it’s CVs; instead of shields, it’s desperate optimism. The battlefield isn’t level—it’s an oil slick of unrealistic demands and unreturned calls. What was once a partnership between recruiters and companies has turned into a corporate talent heist, complete with plausible deniability. "Oh, we’re still deciding," they say, while recruiters pour unpaid hours into sourcing candidates who will ultimately be ghosted.

And yet, recruiters soldier on. Maybe it’s hope. Maybe it’s caffeine. Or maybe it’s because they’ve been trained to run toward the dangling carrot, even if the stick holding it keeps growing longer.

CV Farming: The Corporate Version of "Take Only Photos, Leave Only Footprints"

CV farming—the corporate pastime that’s one part exploitation, two parts audacity, and all parts infuriating. It begins with a client email dripping with urgency: “We need this position filled yesterday!” The recruiters, who’ve learned to sniff out desperation like bloodhounds, spring into action. A flurry of sourcing ensues: hours of networking, poring over databases, and charming potential candidates with promises of exciting opportunities and quicker-than-lightning feedback.

The recruiters deliver their bounty of CVs, each one tailored, scrutinized, and polished. Then... crickets. Days turn into weeks, and weeks into that awkward moment when you realize the client isn’t ghosting—they’ve just filed you under “free labor” and moved on. Eventually, you hear the classic excuses: “We’ve decided to pause the search” or “We actually found someone internally, but thanks for the effort!” Oh, the effort. How noble of the client to acknowledge the unpaid hours, the late nights, and the relentless optimism. It’s almost as noble as stealing candy from a baby—if that candy were a recruiter’s livelihood.

And here’s the thing: those "internal" hires? They’re often from the very pile of CVs recruiters sourced. It’s a covert heist, except instead of ski masks, it’s corporate jargon and calendar invites. But let’s not be dramatic; surely the exposure of being used like a free research assistant is reward enough, right?

CV farming is the corporate version of asking someone to prepare a gourmet meal, only to toss it in the trash and order takeout. Recruiters don’t just provide a “buffet of top-tier candidates”—they supply the ingredients, cook the meal, and do the dishes, all for a client who never even planned to eat. But hey, maybe next time, right?

Shortened Candidate Ownership Periods: Because 12 Months Was Just Too Generous

Once upon a time, the candidate ownership period was a respectable 12 months, granting recruiters a semblance of security. But corporate ingenuity knows no bounds. Why stick with 12 months when you can strong-arm it down to nine, six, or the corporate pièce de résistance: three months? Who wouldn’t want to play this glorified game of "hide and seek, but with people’s livelihoods"?

Here’s how it works. A recruiter, filled with hope, scours the earth to find the "perfect candidate." After countless hours of sourcing, wooing, and coordinating interviews, they submit their golden find. The company, adopting the patience of a saint, does nothing—except maybe send an ambiguous "We’re reviewing profiles" email. They don’t hire the candidate immediately, of course. Oh no, they wait. And wait. Then, when the ownership clock ticks to zero, they pounce like a cat on an unguarded plate of fish. Offer made, candidate hired, recruiter forgotten.

Technically, it’s all above board. After all, the company did wait out the ownership period. Ethics? Irrelevant. Common decency? Overrated. The recruiter, meanwhile, is left nursing a debt to their coffee supplier and the bitter realization that their hard work has been monetized by everyone but them.

This maneuver isn’t just unethical; it’s an exercise in corporate gaslighting. "You agreed to the terms, didn’t you?" the company might argue, conveniently ignoring that recruiters often have no choice but to accept these terms if they want to stay afloat. Because nothing screams "partnership" like a system rigged to ensure one side profits while the other eats ramen for dinner. Again.

But hey, it’s all part of the game, right? Except for recruiters, it’s more like Monopoly—where they always lose.

Pipeline Farming: Free Labor for the Corporate Machine

If you thought ghosting was limited to the dating world, welcome to Pipeline Farming, where companies have turned recruiter exploitation into an art form. Why stop at misusing recruiters for urgent roles when you can squeeze them for hypothetical ones? The premise is simple: ask recruiters to send over profiles for “future hiring needs” or “market research.” Translation: "We need you to do all the groundwork now so we can skip it later, for free."

It starts innocently enough. “We’re planning for growth,” the company says, donning their best poker face. They need a robust pipeline of candidates ready to go when that mythical green light appears. Never mind that said green light is more of a mirage than a reality. The recruiter dutifully dives in, sourcing and vetting candidates, often convincing them to entertain a role that doesn’t even exist yet. After all, there’s potential.

And then? Radio silence. The company disappears, leaving behind a recruiter who spent weeks curating a talent pool that will never be used—or so they think. Fast forward six months, and the company magically resurfaces, engaging the same candidates directly, free of pesky recruiter fees. Candidate ownership period? Long expired. Ethical considerations? Left somewhere in the company’s filing cabinet of forgotten promises.

Pipeline farming is the corporate version of asking someone to design and build a luxury mansion, only to move in without ever paying for it. It’s exploitative brilliance, really—why do the work yourself when you can convince someone else to do it for free under the guise of "partnership"?

For recruiters, this isn’t just demoralizing; it’s infuriating. But what can they do? Say no to future work and risk burning bridges? The system has them cornered, their inboxes filled with nothing but unfulfilled promises and politely worded betrayals.

Hiring Managers and the Circle of Hypocrisy

Talent Acquisition: the puppet masters of the contingent recruitment circus. They’re the self-proclaimed "clients" who hold all the strings—and let’s be honest, they rarely pull them in favor of the recruiter. The truly mind-boggling part? Many of these internal recruiters once lived the brutal grind of contingent recruitment. They’ve walked the trenches, chased KPIs, and endured the indignity of clients ghosting them after promising "we’re just waiting for sign-off." Yet instead of extending a lifeline of empathy, they’ve weaponized their insider knowledge like villains in a corporate revenge flick.

Their modus operandi is as calculated as it is cruel. They know the tricks: how to demand endless CVs while feigning urgency, how to stretch timelines until candidate ownership periods evaporate, and—most impressively—how to do it all with a straight face. "Oh, we’re still deliberating," they’ll say, as external recruiters wait in financial limbo, clinging to the hope that this will be the placement that pays the bills.

And yet, the hypocrisy doesn’t end there. When these internal recruiters (or hiring managers) find themselves out of work, where do they turn? That’s right—to recruiters. The same ones they drained dry mere months ago. "Hey, remember me?" they’ll chirp, conveniently forgetting that they’re the reason the recruiter’s last commission check barely covered instant noodles.

The irony is Shakespearean. Talent acquisition and hiring managers dismantle the very system they’ll come crawling back to when the tables turn. It’s like borrowing someone’s car, crashing it, and then asking for a ride home. Meanwhile, recruiters, ever the professionals, bite their tongues and help—because burning bridges in recruitment isn’t an option, even if you’d like to set the whole thing ablaze.

In the end, it’s a perfect ouroboros: a snake eating its own tail while invoicing itself for the privilege.

The contingent recruitment system isn’t just broken—it’s the Titanic of business models, except nobody’s even pretending there are enough lifeboats. Built on a foundation of bad faith and powered by an endless cycle of exploitation, it’s the perfect storm of unethical practices disguised as "business as usual." Companies bask in the glory of their Machiavellian ingenuity, while external recruiters are left holding the bag—usually empty, save for a few unpaid invoices and shattered hopes.

If this system were a person, it would be that one roommate who eats all your snacks, denies it, and then complains you don’t buy enough. It’s shameless, parasitic, and somehow still tolerated. But enough is enough. It’s time for stronger contracts, better accountability, and maybe even a recruiter rebellion—pitchforks optional but highly encouraged.

Until that utopia arrives, the contingent recruiter will keep marching on, armed with nothing but resilience and a fresh pot of coffee. They’ll continue to fight the good fight, knowing full well the system is stacked against them, because what other choice do they have?

So here’s to the recruiters: the unsung heroes, the eternal optimists. May the odds be ever in your favor—and may you one day get the respect (and commissions) you deserve.