Reject!
I get a lot of rejection letters in the mail. Happy thought, huh? I probably apply for three jobs per week, and I'd guess that about 10% of those prospective employers have the good manners to send rejection letters.
The first time I started serious job-hunting, when I was still in Missouri, I used to mount my rejection notices in cheap dollar-store frames. I'd then hang them on the wall next to my "Best Sportscast" award plaque from the Iowa Broadcast News Association.
When I started job hunting again, about two years ago, I just threw out my rejections. But as I got more and more depressed about the fact that nobody wants me, I decided to embrace my self-pity, and start displaying my rejection letters again. They're simply thumbtacked to the wall above my computer, next to my IBNA award, my Ebay Yellow Star Achievement award, and my glow-in-the-dark statue of St. Clare of Assisi (patron saint of television).
Today, I received a new rejection letter-- and a new low in rejection letter etiquette. The mailman delivered a rejection postcard.
Even worse, a form letter. Nothing says personized attention like "Dear Applicant."
Do I really need the mailman to know the details of my rejection? Well, if he knows about it, I guess there's no harm in posting it here.
That's fine. I really didn't want to work in Green Bay anyway. Though I love Brett Favre, even my favorite quarterback can't make up for 29 days of subzero temperatures every year.
I get a lot of rejection letters in the mail. Happy thought, huh? I probably apply for three jobs per week, and I'd guess that about 10% of those prospective employers have the good manners to send rejection letters.
The first time I started serious job-hunting, when I was still in Missouri, I used to mount my rejection notices in cheap dollar-store frames. I'd then hang them on the wall next to my "Best Sportscast" award plaque from the Iowa Broadcast News Association.
When I started job hunting again, about two years ago, I just threw out my rejections. But as I got more and more depressed about the fact that nobody wants me, I decided to embrace my self-pity, and start displaying my rejection letters again. They're simply thumbtacked to the wall above my computer, next to my IBNA award, my Ebay Yellow Star Achievement award, and my glow-in-the-dark statue of St. Clare of Assisi (patron saint of television).
Today, I received a new rejection letter-- and a new low in rejection letter etiquette. The mailman delivered a rejection postcard.
Even worse, a form letter. Nothing says personized attention like "Dear Applicant."Do I really need the mailman to know the details of my rejection? Well, if he knows about it, I guess there's no harm in posting it here.
That's fine. I really didn't want to work in Green Bay anyway. Though I love Brett Favre, even my favorite quarterback can't make up for 29 days of subzero temperatures every year.
Labels: Being the Sportslady
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