Rachel Senturia: Coming to terms with rejection

I hate khaki pants, but I had to buy them anyway. They were part of a uniform I had to wear for an interview at a tutoring academy for kids. I didn't own any, and rather then put myself at a larger disadvantage than I already was, I decided to comply, though grudgingly. They were $40, the cheapest yet most endurable pair I could find. I put them on, hoping that the kids would at least see the pants and maybe admire them, if not at least appreciate the fact that I was a potential employee. But, alas, no kids were at the interview. The interviewer said she would contact me by either phone call or letter, implying that if you got a letter, well, too bad for you.

I check my e-mail more than four times a day on average. I am a fan of snail mail too. In fact, I love anything that is personally sent to me. However, when I received the letter from the tutoring academy, I didn't have to open it up to know that I was not hired. The details of the job, and my qualifications (which in my biased opinion are great) will be spared, but the fact remains: what about the pants? I was enraged, angered, and disappointed. I wanted her to at least compensate me for my purchase. However, from this, and my other experiences looking for a summer job, I have become an expert in the art of rejection.

I am no stranger to rejection; this previously mentioned anecdote has become my daily script. The job market is horrible, and the summer job market is even worse. I know how to be rejected, and I feel that if you are going to reject someone, you need to do it properly. First of all, some sort of contact should be made with the prospective employee. Not returning phone calls, e-mails, and general avoidance is cowardly. Nothing says Loser Employer like evasion. A phone call or e-mail response, while better than nothing, really doesn't get one's message across.

Like employers who are looking for enthusiastic candidates, I too demand a rejection that is customer-service oriented. Real employers reject with personally signed letters. This sort of rejection really gives the applicant the full-forced message: we don't want you, and not only that, we are willing to consciously sign a paper fully acknowledging the fact that there is no way that you will be working for us anytime soon. Then we send it, paying for postage, because we dislike you that much. For those who actually read the rejection letter, pity on their souls, employers should consider opening the rejection with a bland "thank you for your interest in the company." This way the interviewee really feels unappreciated.

But perhaps there is an underlying theme that shouldn't be overlooked. While it's true the job market is incredibly tight, and the economics of a business shouldn't be tampered with (unless you're Enron, or every other major corporation) there is something to be said for an opportunity. How can young people, just starting out, learn if they are never given a chance?

Many people, myself included, don't have all the answers in the preliminary interview. We can't know all the answers to specific situations if we have not yet experienced them. And don't forget the old mantra: practice makes perfect. I, maybe naively, believe that while everyone may not be the same when it comes to intellect, everyone still has the ability to learn.

On the other hand, the path of rejection can only lead to greater strength. One day, I will show all the Loser Employers who never returned my phone calls that they really should have thought twice before they erased my message and skipped out to lunch, because I am damn good. However, the confines of college, finances, and age postpone this mission. But you just wait. For now, all I can do is plod from interview to interview and trek across the county, hoping that maybe, just maybe, someone will give me a chance.

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