Clive
Why Clive exists.
Because his founder applied for a job he had no interest in, and found the one he wanted by accident.
Clive
Because his founder applied for a job he had no interest in, and found the one he wanted by accident.
Harry graduated in summer 2025 with a first in Economics from Manchester, and walked into the worst graduate market in thirty years without the faintest idea what he actually wanted.
So he did what everyone does. The first weeks went on investment banks, because that's what economists apply to. At the Big Four he applied to one scheme that made sense and one, Treasury Risk, that he had genuinely no interest in whatsoever. The role he'd have chosen with a clear head, working with AI and technology, he found by accident.
And that was the lesson. If someone reasonably smart, with a good degree from a good university, was attacking the market with no coherent plan, then almost nobody has one. Career direction gets decided by accident, proximity, and whichever firm a friend in the library happened to mention. Whack-a-Mole, played against the worst odds in a generation.
What Harry wished he'd had was simple: twenty minutes to sit down and work out what he actually wanted, and a tool that could compare the answer against everything out there. Something that could have said, "don't apply for that; what you've just described is over here, and you've never heard of it."
That tool didn't exist. So he built it, and gave it a cold nose.
Even a graduate who knows exactly what they want can't see the market. The big job boards only list roles from companies that pay to be there: a sliver, presented as the whole. Clive watches every UK company with more than 50 employees through their own careers pages, which is how he gets to make a claim no board can. If it's out there, he's seen it.
Charging students for help finding work would be wrong three separate ways, one of them legally. So: free. No trial, no premium tier, no card details.
A graduate's energy belongs on landing the right job, not on scouring the internet to find out it exists. That's the whole company, in one sentence.
Clive Careers runs lean, roughly one human and one very industrious dog, because keeping costs near zero is what makes "free, permanently" a promise rather than a phase.
The dog, briefly: Clive is a border collie in round yellow glasses. Man's best friend, put to work. Collies are bred to fetch things, watch everything, and bark only when it matters. It seemed apt.