Name your agent. Hand it your résumé. It builds a profile you approve, then finds the roles that actually fit, the real people behind them, and starts the outreach for you — from your own material, not a template. You edit, you send. And between searches it works on the thing every search depends on: what people find when they look you up.
Most tools start with a search box. Salire starts by getting to know you, because everything downstream — matching, people, writing — is only as good as that.
Pick a name, a tone, and a signature. Warm and encouraging, or direct and momentum-obsessed — it shapes every message you get from here on.
A résumé, a LinkedIn PDF export, or both. It reads them into one profile — experience, skills, location, links — and shows you exactly what it understood before anything else happens. Fix what’s wrong. Approve the rest.
Matches with reasons, people worth a conversation, first drafts to edit rather than blank pages, a plan with a next move that’s always visible. You stay the one who clicks send.
Recruiters, founders and clients search your name before they reply to you. Most career tools ignore what they find. Salire measures it, shows you the number, and works on it a little every day — so the next opportunity comes to you instead of the other way round.
Not points for using the app — a crawl of what actually exists about you in public, refreshed weekly and kept as history so you can see it move.
Every crawl ends with ranked recommendations aimed at the weakest part of the score — the one or two things that would move it most, not a listicle.
Not sure what to aim at? The agent proposes a handful of distinct directions built from your history. You react — love it, pass — and the next batch converges. Choosing beats generating.
It proposes what your presence should look like in six or twelve months and a month-by-month plan to get there. You override anything. Every plan step can be interrogated: “why this, why now?”
A daily briefing with one move — a post, an outreach, a fix — and a first draft already written from your own notes before you’re asked. Edit, approve, skip, or ask. Skips teach it what not to bring back.
Long-form goes out through official APIs where they exist (Dev.to today), and guided copy-and-open everywhere else. The agent never publishes on its own. Then the score picks it up on the next crawl.
You told me in March you’d never write this up because it felt like airing laundry. It’s the most-asked question in your intro calls. A first draft from your own notes, ready for you to edit.
Every role gets a score, and every score gets an explanation: what you clearly have, what’s partial, and which must-haves you’re missing. Your location, sectors, and named companies shape the search — and you can change them in one place.
Behind every company are a handful of people who’d actually take your call. Salire finds them from public sources, ranks them against your background, and tells you why each one is worth twenty minutes.
Cover letters, intro emails, posts, application answers. The agent starts from what you’ve actually written and done — your blog, a paper, the notes in your profile — so the draft is about your real work, and it strips the tells everyone recognises: “I’m excited to leverage,” “proven track record,” the adjective triplets. Then it’s yours to edit.
I am excited to leverage my proven track record…
Lukas — I read your write-up on the scheduler rewrite. We hit the same wall at GrandCanals in 2016 and solved it the ugly way first. If you have twenty minutes, I’d like to compare notes.
The Chrome extension fills Greenhouse, Lever and Ashby applications from your profile and the résumé tailored for that role. Every field it touched is outlined — green for filled, amber for drafted, dashed where it left something for you.
A journey rail sits beside everything: what’s done, what’s ready, what’s blocked and why. One question at a time, every step skippable, and the agent explains its reasoning instead of handing you a to-do list.
A career is a reputation. An agent that acts on your behalf has to be careful with it — so these aren’t settings, they’re rules.
Every letter, post, email and application ends with you reading it and pressing the button. Drafts are drafts.
No session automation, no connection requests on your behalf, no scraping through your login. That would risk the account you’re trying to build.
People come from public text that names them. Company briefs say when they’re grounded and when they’re not. Everything in your graph records how it was found.
The profile it builds from your résumé is the first thing you approve, not something you discover later in a badly-matched role.
No, deliberately. Salire prepares everything — tailored résumé, cover letter, answers to the actual form questions — and the extension fills the form. You read it and submit. Mass auto-apply gets people flagged and gets them roles they didn’t want.
A résumé or a LinkedIn PDF export (Profile → More → Save to PDF). That builds the profile everything else reads. Links to your writing make the drafts noticeably better, and you can add those any time.
Public sources: company team pages, GitHub organisations, and — when enabled — a third-party public-profile index. Salire never logs into LinkedIn or drives your account. Names are extracted only from text that literally contains them.
It’s stored in your account and sent to the AI models that parse and draft for you (via OpenRouter, Google, and Mistral for OCR). It isn’t shared with employers or recruiters and isn’t used to train anything. The privacy statement lists every processor.
Yes. “Start over” in the account menu deletes every row belonging to you in one transaction — profile, documents, graph, drafts, conversations, applications.
A weekly crawl of your real public footprint — a grounded web search for your name, your blog’s post count and recency, GitHub stats, whether your LinkedIn and X profiles exist and have substance, and how complete your profile is — weighted into one number out of 100 and kept as history. It measures the world, not your activity in the app, so the only way to move it is to change what’s out there. The recommendations tell you where to start.
It drafts; you publish. Where an official write API exists (Dev.to today) a single click in Studio publishes under your account. Everywhere else — LinkedIn, Substack, Medium — it hands you the finished piece and opens the editor. Automating those platforms’ sessions violates their terms and risks your account, so Salire doesn’t.
The one you give it. You name it, choose its tone and its signature. The name is yours — Nova, Sage, Poppy, whatever — and the tone shapes every message. It can be changed later.
Five short questions, one résumé, and a profile you approve before anything else happens. Then the climb starts.
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