Rejection is something we all have to deal with. It starts at an early age, when our mothers decide we cannot have that yummy milk but we must learn to eat big kids’ food, like mushy banana and stewed pears. While we reach out for cuddles and warm milk, instead we get a bowlful of cold stodgy stuff. When we move out into the big world outside our house more rejection awaits. The nice doggy down the street may not want to be patted on the eyeball with a flower we just picked. Our new friends at playgroup may not want to share their toys, or even their time and energy with us. Boo-hoo.

At school this rejection continues as children become more discerning regarding the sort of person they choose to sit with, or share their glue with. I was one of those who were rejected due to my lack of social skills, or inability to grasp the nuances of the fashion requirements of 10 year old children at the time. Little did I know that wearing long socks with brown leather sandals was just not cool. I was obviously reluctant to leave the earthy stylings of the 70’s behind for the bright sportswear of the 80’s.

Growing up I found a whole new level of rejection - based not upon my personality, but on my skills and general usefulness – within the dreaded job interview.

One of my first jobs was a push-over. It was for a new Sizzler restaurant opening in Darwin. Many young adults applied, hoping for a decent job (preferably air-conditioned, to escape the heat). I sat in the interview room and was told that I had the ‘Sizzler Sparkle’ and was thus able to train for a waitressing job. I later deduced that having the Sizzler Sparkle meant you weren’t butt ugly, and so the employers were happy to have you deal with the public, instead of working back in the kitchen.

But later on, I tried to expand my horizons and applied for a tour guide operator position within Nitmiluk (Katherine Gorge) National Park. The interviewers – overweight, middle-aged men lounging in the motel meeting room – told me I wasn’t strong enough to carry a backpack around that would carry the tourists’ lunch and miscellaneous supplies. Never mind the fact that at the time, I was jogging 10km regularly and had already backpacked into the Gorge without any problem.

In the past 10 years I have applied for a variety of jobs around Stanthorpe – job network office chick, filling shelves for a supermarket, childcare worker, and teacher aide. How the interview panel reacher their decisions is beyond me. When applying for the night fill job, I was asked which three words I would use to describe myself. “Ahhh… hard-working, persistent, positive…” I responded, while thinking, ‘This is not a highly intellectual industry - what’s with the psychoanalysis?’ Clearly, the interviewer could read my mind, because I think I was rejected from that job opportunity purely on my superior attitude. They can tell when you really want the job.

There are many pieces of advice for people in the job market, looking for work and trying to deal with rejection. A wonderful response I found on the internet describes a rejection of rejection.

Herbert A. Millington


Chair – Search Committee


412A Clarkson Hall,

Whitson University
College Hill, MA 34109

Dear Professor Millington,

Thank you for your letter of March 16. After careful consideration, I regret to inform you that I am unable to accept your refusal to offer me an assistant professor position in your department.

This year I have been particularly fortunate in receiving an unusually large number of rejection letters. With such a varied and promising field of candidates, it is impossible for me to accept all refusals.

Despite Whitson’s outstanding qualifications and previous experience in rejecting applicants, I find that your rejection does not meet my needs at this time. Therefore, I will assume the position of assistant professor in your department this August. I look forward to seeing you then.

Best of luck in rejecting future applicants.

Sincerely,
Chris L. Jensen

(Source: http://jobmob.co.il/blog/funniest-rejection-letter-ever)

Since surrendering my work aspirations temporarily for the delights of nappy changing, I don’t need to worry myself about being rejected at job interviews. However, my long-standing interest in writing has brought me another rejection – the cruelest blow of all! – since it cuts me at the core of my being, taking the winds out of my sails, and deflating my hopes, and in other ways that involve metaphors.

I submitted a book manuscript a year or so ago and waited ever so patiently for a response. After an unusual delay, the publishers said that due to the recession and the downturn in the market, they were limiting their new projects. I was welcome to take my manuscript to another publisher. This I did, in the hope that I would receive a more favourable response. After the allotted painful wait, I got some feedback. This publisher told me that the possibility of taking on this book project was not likely, yet I was also welcome to resubmit at a later date if I cared to rewrite as per the suggestions by the reviewers.

I was intrigued to find out what other professional writing/publishing/literary-type people thought of my writing. “Dazzling genius, this author is witty and sure to become a favourite” were the comments I expected. However it was more in the lines of “the first four chapters are really boring”, and “what was she thinking???” I tried to read the constructive advice and not cry too much. Not necessarily because I am really mature and can take criticism well but because I know all those tears dripping on the keyboard will ruin my laptop.

Nevertheless, I am in good company, as I’ve heard that lots of now-famous writers had dramatic rejections when they first began. Apparently the publisher’s opinion to the classic novel Lord of the Flies said it was 'an absurd and uninteresting fantasy which was rubbish and dull.' And when one publisher passed on John le Carre after reading The Spy who Came in from the Cold, the recommendation was ‘You’re welcome to le Carré – he hasn’t got any future.’

Then of course, there is Aussie author Bryce Courtney who had heard the first novel is always rubbish. So he wrote and wrote and created his first book. He wrapped it up in string and used it as a door-stop in the kitchen, and went to work on his next novel – the good one. Funny thing was, someone persuaded him to submit his ‘practice’ novel to publishers and that’s how we all got to read The Power of One.

So, from those experiences, I can take heart. Now, if only I could have the story-telling talent of Bryce Courtney. 

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