The Search for the Dream Job: Inside CPFC
I started this whole thing maybe six months ago. My old gig, the one building those useless mobile game prototypes, just tanked. Laid off, suddenly had time on my hands. I’m a massive football fan, always have been, and CPFC is my team. So I figured, why not? I’ll try to find a proper job working for the club.
I assumed, big club, big operation, they must be hiring for something that wasn’t just kicking a ball or selling hot dogs. Marketing, ticketing operations, maybe even something in tech—they all need guys who can handle the back end stuff, the actual logistics, right? I expected to see slick listings and decent salaries, given the Premier League money they handle.
The Messy Process of Digging
The first thing I did was hit their official site. I searched for the careers section. It was a disaster. The whole page looked like it was designed back in 2005, hardly updated. I scrolled, I clicked on every vague link, and the only things I seriously saw were listings for hospitality staff—you know, pouring pints on match day—or volunteer slots. Nothing serious for actual management, finance, or anything involving real technology or infrastructure.
So, I switched tactics. I jumped onto LinkedIn. That’s where the real network lives. I typed “Crystal Palace” and started messaging people who worked there. I wasn’t subtle. I reached out to maybe twenty different staff members—from the Head of Media down to some guy listed as a ‘Junior Coordinator’ in the commercial department.
I asked them straight up: Where do the real, non-public jobs go? I explained my background: strong on project management, decent with enterprise data. And then I waited.
Out of twenty messages I sent, only four guys bothered to reply. And what they told me was the first real shock that burst my bubble.
The Bitter Truth I Uncovered
You know how large corporations usually advertise their roles publicly for weeks to meet HR rules? Not here. These guys informed me that 80% of the decent roles—the ones that actually pay a living wage and don’t involve wearing a giant eagle mascot costume—get filled internally or through word-of-mouth networking. It’s a complete closed shop. If you’re not already in the network, you’re basically wasting your time on the public listings. They told me to forget the website entirely.
One guy, who was an operations manager but had recently left, spilled the beans on their internal setup. He said the technology stack was an absolute nightmare. They were running three different, competing CRM systems for ticketing, retail, and fan engagement, and none of them were talking to each other properly. He claimed the whole IT system was just held together with duct tape and sheer panic. He left because upper management kept changing strategic direction every single transfer window, making long-term planning impossible.
He described the atmosphere as intensely chaotic, but filled with people who genuinely loved the club. Everyone was running ragged trying to compensate for poor systems. You think you’re applying to a polished, professional sporting giant. You find out you’re applying to a very passionate, very disorganized, glorified small business that just happens to play in the Premier League. And the pay? He literally laughed. He said they expect you to take a significant pay cut compared to industry standards because “you get to work for your team.” They leverage your passion against your paycheck.
Why I Know These Specific Details
Why do I know all these specific details about the burnt-out ops manager, the terrible tech stack, and the low salaries? Because I didn’t just message people, I almost became one of them.
After that initial outreach, one of the guys I contacted—the Junior Coordinator, who was actually a decent bloke—later emailed me out of the blue. He said they had a sudden opening for a ‘Digital Project Lead’ but they didn’t want to post it publicly yet, exactly as the other guy warned me. They sent me the job description. I spent a week prepping slides. I went through three rounds of brutal interviews.
The final interview was with the actual CTO. He seemed like a good bloke, but he was visibly burnt out. He spent 45 minutes of our meeting telling me how the club had just slashed his already low budget, how the stadium Wi-Fi system was crashing every single match day, and how he desperately needed someone to come in and just fix the ancient SQL server before it completely exploded. He didn’t even pretend the job was easy. He offered me the job, but the salary was exactly what the operations guy warned me about: insultingly low for the amount of critical, high-stress work they expected me to handle.
I turned it down on the spot. I thanked him, I walked away, and I learned my lesson. Unless you’re a professional athlete, or you’re related to someone on the board, working for your favorite football club is usually just a fantastic way to burn yourself out while getting paid peanuts. I took a boring role building ERP software instead. Pays twice as much, and I can actually enjoy watching the game on Saturday without worrying about whether the club’s ancient ticketing system is going to collapse again.