When you fight hard and finally reach that milestone, the pride feels different
In Belo Horizonte, a 27-year-old civil engineering student named João dos Anjos transformed necessity into ingenuity by fastening a handwritten internship request to the thermal bag on his delivery motorcycle, letting the city's traffic become his résumé. Balancing fatherhood, rent, and final-year studies, he found that the most honest advertisement was also the most visible one. The image traveled far beyond the streets he rode, reminding those who saw it that determination, when made visible, has a way of finding its audience.
- After two months of silence from conventional job applications, João had no runway left — a daughter to support, bills mounting, and graduation approaching without the internship his career required.
- The handwritten sign on his delivery bag turned every red light and traffic jam into an unplanned job fair, catching the eyes of strangers who became unexpected allies.
- A single photo taken by a passerby cascaded through social media and LinkedIn, carrying his message across state lines to people he had never met and companies he had never contacted.
- Interview calls began arriving — not yet a signed contract, but the closed doors were opening, validating a strategy born from desperation rather than design.
- Even with an internship secured, João knows the math demands he keep delivering — stipends are low, expenses are real, and he is already planning to hold three roles simultaneously without complaint.
João dos Anjos Almeida Neto had spent two fruitless months searching for a civil engineering internship when he noticed something every delivery driver already knew: people's eyes always find the thermal bag on the back of a motoboy's motorcycle. So he made a handwritten sign — "Procuro estágio em engenharia civil" — attached it to his bag, and let Belo Horizonte's traffic do the work.
The decision was not born of confidence but of circumstance. His previous employer had shut down its internship program, leaving him without income. With a daughter to support, rent to pay, and a motorcycle to maintain, he turned to delivery work to stay afloat — but it was never where he intended to stay. Engineering was his passion, and an internship was the next necessary step.
What followed surprised him. A woman at a medical office photographed the sign. Another, stuck behind him in traffic, pulled up beside him at a red light and read it clearly before posting it online. The image spread through LinkedIn and across state lines, shared by strangers who felt something in the gesture. Interview calls began coming in. The internship itself had not yet arrived, but the silence had broken.
João understood the fragility of the engineering job market in Brazil — the first sector to fall in a downturn, slow to recover — but the uncertainty did not discourage him. He was already planning to attend classes, complete an internship, and continue making deliveries all at once, viewing the overlap not as a burden but as the honest price of building the life he wanted. The hardship, he believed, would matter later. Victories earned through struggle, he reasoned, carry a different weight — and that was the story he was determined to finish writing.
João dos Anjos Almeida Neto was two months into a fruitless search for an engineering internship when he decided to turn his motorcycle into a moving advertisement. The 27-year-old final-year civil engineering student had been working as a delivery driver in Belo Horizonte, ferrying food orders across the city, and he noticed something obvious: people's eyes always landed on the thermal bag strapped to the back of every motoboy's bike. So he made a handwritten sign and fastened it to his bag. "Procuro estágio em engenharia civil," it read, along with his phone number. The idea was straightforward—use the traffic itself as his audience.
João had not always been a delivery driver. He had worked in the field before, but when his previous employer shut down its internship program, his income vanished. With a daughter to support, rent to pay, and a motorcycle to maintain, he had no choice but to start making deliveries. The work kept him afloat, but it was not what he wanted. He was studying engineering because he loved it, and he needed an internship to move forward. The sign was an act of desperation dressed up as creativity.
What happened next surprised him. Strangers began reaching out. A woman at a medical office saw the sign and took a photo. Another woman, stuck behind him in traffic, couldn't quite read the message, but when she pulled up beside him at a red light, she saw it clearly. She posted it online. The image spread beyond Belo Horizonte—across state lines, through LinkedIn, shared by people he had never met. The attention was real and it was working. João began receiving calls for interviews and selection processes. He had not yet landed the internship he was chasing, but the doors were opening.
The job market for engineering students in Brazil, he understood, was fragile. Civil engineering was the first sector to collapse during economic downturns and the first to recover, but the collapse still hurt. He had watched it happen. Yet the uncertainty did not shake him. "I am passionate about engineering," he said. "It is something I have always loved. So as long as I can choose, that is what I will do." He was not naive about what came next. Even with an internship, he would have to keep delivering. Internship stipends in Brazil were notoriously low, and his expenses were real: a daughter, child support, rent, motorcycle maintenance. The math did not work any other way.
He was prepared for the grind. This semester, he planned to attend classes, complete an internship, and continue making deliveries—all at once. He did not see this as a burden to complain about; he saw it as the price of getting what he wanted. "I am not someone who is afraid of work," he said. "This is the profession I want to have, so I will do what I can." He believed, too, that the struggle itself would matter later. The obstacles he was facing now would become a source of pride once he had pushed through them. When you have to leave comfort behind and actually fight, he reasoned, the victories taste different. They mean more. That was the story he was building—not just an internship, but proof that he had earned it.
Citas Notables
I am passionate about engineering. It is something I have always loved. So as long as I can choose, that is what I will do.— João dos Anjos Almeida Neto
I am not someone who is afraid of work. This is the profession I want to have, so I will do what I can.— João dos Anjos Almeida Neto
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why a sign on the thermal bag specifically? Why not just post on social media like everyone else?
Because he was already out there, eight hours a day, moving through the city. The bag is what people see. He realized he was already advertising something—food, a restaurant—so why not advertise himself? It was free, and it was honest.
Did he expect it to work?
I don't think he expected the scale of it. He was desperate enough to try something unconventional, but when strangers started posting his photo online, when it crossed state lines, that was beyond what he probably imagined.
The internship still hasn't come through, though. So did the sign actually solve his problem?
Not yet. But it opened doors. He's getting interviews now, being taken seriously. Before the sign, he was invisible—just another motoboy. Now people know his name and his ambition. That's not nothing.
What strikes you most about his situation?
That he's not bitter about it. He's a final-year engineering student working as a delivery driver, supporting a daughter, and he still says he loves engineering. Most people would be angry. He's just... determined. He sees the struggle as temporary, as something that will make the achievement real.
Do you think he'll get the internship?
Probably. The momentum is there, the visibility is there. But even if he doesn't immediately, he's already changed how people see him. That matters.