On Rejection

The first job I applied for ghosted me. It was not altogether surprising, as I applied speculatively, suspecting that a role soon needed to be filled. Somewhat helpfully, I knew the hiring manager from university. He had not told me directly about this new role, but due to a planned merger and an expansion at the company, I knew that a role would be opening. I sent off an application.

Dear Miles,

I would hereby like to register my application for the position of Better Man. Whilst I am aware that the position is not officially advertised, and that the hiring process is normally a closed affair, I would be remiss to not make you aware of my interest in and suitability for the position.

Why would I make a good Better Man? The answer is threefold: intelligence, emotional availability, and lack of meaningful employment.

My extreme intelligence has many gifts and many curses. The curses are all my own, but the gifts are easily shared. My speech would be of the highest calibre, surpassed only by your own (to which I can lend a reflective eye). You can remove any concern from your mind of having the standard best man speech, a horror consisting of bullying you and weirdly flirting with the bride. You do not have to worry about any “What does she see in you mate? She is so fit.” The social norm that men can only express fondness and love for each other through negativity is one that I reject outright. 

This brings me onto my second key trait: emotional availability. Whilst I am not always around, I am always there, ready to be your rock, your anchor, your lifeline. With me, you have someone you can trust and rely on, a confidant of the highest calibre who knows all of the best therapists in London by first name and can get easy access to prescription drugs. A wedding is an emotional time, full of stress and turmoil, and I can be there for all of that.

I can be there because I am rarely meaningfully employed. That means I have something to offer that few others have: time and an ability to put travel expenses against my tax. 

Without these three things, one cannot be a Better Man. They can be a Good Man, perhaps even a Great Man, but never a Better Man. 

You may be wondering why I have consistently said ‘Better Man.’ The answer is simple: you are the Best Man at your own wedding, and as your loyal aide-de-camp, I would not lay claim to that title. I can be Better, but I cannot be the Best. That is a title reserved solely for you. 

I appreciate your consideration of my application, and look forward to your reply.

Yours sincerely,

Sam Peters, BA

It was a good letter, I thought, and whilst it might not be enough to make up for a slight deficiency in experience versus my competitors, I thought it could get my foot in the door. However, this application, like so many that followed, never got a reply. No matter how many times I contacted the hiring manager, offering clarifications, asking for feedback, producing references, I heard nothing. This situation has become somewhat awkward now, as he is my landlord. I think that I will soon be forced to withdraw my application, as there is some sort of corporate retreat planned in July, which this job plays a large role in organising, and I don’t want to be thrown into the deep end. I am also not that sure how stable the job is, nor whether there is much room for upward growth. And the pay was rubbish.

Since that first application, all the others have met with a similar fate. The advice I keep being given is to ‘not take the rejection personally.’ But how else am I meant to take it? Collectively? Rejection is always personal, but either you view the rejection as just feedback, or you go the other, uglier way. You say that the hiring manager is a twat, the job was probably given to the CEO’s nephew, and text your friends to go for a pint at 3pm. None of them respond because they all have jobs.

Perhaps the problem is that I lie at the end of every cover letter I send. I always write that I “look forward to your reply.” I don’t. I dread them. I dread the “unfortunately” and the “particularly strong field of candidates” and the “best of luck in your future endeavours.” The ghosting is worse, but rejection letters are a close second. As I write this, another rejection letter comes into my inbox. No interview.

But rejection is not the theme of this blog. This is not somewhere for me to complain and whine about not getting hired. It is about me trying to get a job, and whilst rejection goes hand in hand with application, it is a boring topic. Everyone gets rejected. Everyone gets over it. Whilst my Mum may have told me that I am not like everyone, in this way, I am.