Rejection

I just had a near miss in my job hunt. When you come so close without getting the nod, it can really hurt. This isn’t the first time, and that’s both bad news and good.

Having left my last job over a year ago and been in the job search for about nine months, I’ve grown accustomed to quite a few new rhythms. I am responsible for structuring my days and choosing how to fill my time. I create my own priorities and my own pace. I have to hold myself accountable and find people who can help.

There’s also a pattern in the job application process. The mechanical process of customizing résumés, writing cover letters, and filling in forms. The personal connections of networking with known contacts, interviewing, and emailing. The emotional journey from detached analysis to excitement as I progress through the initial rounds towards a final selection.

Applying to jobs is a game of percentages, so at this point I have a lot of fatigue from the many initial applications I’ve submitted, while the middle of the process feels well-worn without having lost all of its novelty. And unfortunately, while rejections at the last step of the process are pretty rare, I now have three under my belt. Enough for me to experience a twinge of familiarity.

The application

My most recent rejection was just a week ago. (I’m withholding the company’s name; it’s not important to the story, and I have an ongoing relationship with them.) It’s still fresh, and it still stings. I applied earlier this year, and after a few months while the process was suspended, they reached out to schedule an interview.

It was a brief call, and it went really well. I connected with the interviewer, smoothly answered all the questions, demonstrated my senior-level skills and experience, and presented my personality and values. She was very complimentary, and informed me that they were interviewing a small handful of people selected from a very long list of applicants. Before the call, I sent her an email to link to a blog post that, by pure serendipity, I had written just a couple of weeks prior that dovetailed perfectly with the job itself. Afterwards, I followed up with a quick thank-you.

During the call, I learned that they were going to select 2-3 finalists to take on a short, paid contract project, at the end of which they’d select someone to hire. The task sounded fun, and I started thinking about how I’d go about it.

The anticipation

I know better than to get too attached too early to a prospect, but it’s next to impossible not to feel some level of excitement when something cool comes my way. Over the weekend between the interview call and the rejection email, I was anticipating what it’d be like to work with a really cool team on a product I believe in. To feel a fresh wind in my sails, navigating in familiar territory but on a new course. To have a full-time job again.

I thought about what I could bring to the role; about the prospect of a fully remote job (I’m not a huge fan—I really love in-person collaboration); about AI and all of the attendant crazy challenges and ethical dilemmas; about getting back to my roots in some fun ways; about expanding my horizons and learning at a rapid pace in an industry that’s currently burning (a bit too) hot.

The letdown

So I got a bit attached, even while keeping in mind that nothing is for sure. The rhythm was familiar enough that I didn’t overdo it in either direction, but new enough for all of the emotions to take root.

And when the rejection came—that final, definitive beat in the rhythm—even as I could anticipate its weight, I still felt all the things that come along with it. I entered the dénouement, the winding down of tempo and heat and emotion: another familiar pattern.

All forms of rejection are similar in this way. After a few of them, you realize that there is, in fact, a future ahead of you, and you pick yourself up and find your old rhythms again. I’m glad we have the capacity to build this kind of experiential, emotional memory. The learned familiarity is comforting.

Moving on

The good news is that this latest rejection letter was the best yet. They expressed their appreciation, assured me that I was very qualified, told me how hard the decision was, explained the reason they decided to pass, and said they’d be honored to work with me in the future should new opportunities arise.

They also encouraged me to complete the training and join the small cohort of professionals who work with them on an ad-hoc contract basis—which I will be doing. This is unlike other rejections—the door is still open, and I’m planning to remain engaged. It’s not easy to put my wounded pride aside and be an also-ran, but if I believe in the company and its mission, and I appreciate and value its people, the fit of ego will subside.

This is where I could dredge up some sort of lesson that I learned from the experience. But I’m not going to force it—I’m old enough to recognize and take advantage of such moments. What I appreciate about this moment is its hard-earned familiarity, and the knowledge that every pattern has room for variations, and in those variations may lie fresh opportunities.