Editor's Note: Sunday Success is a weekly blog dedicated to documenting the frustrations, difficulties and humor in developing ridiculous amounts of success in college.
With this topic, I’m thinking, “Yay! Rejections, I know so much about them!” And I’m here to let you know you’re not alone as you slowly begin receiving those ridiculously apologetic (and um, offensive!) emails about not being selected. Why are there are so many stages of emotions to go through when applying for a position? No worries, I’m riding the same train as you (the one in films where the most important part of the track is engulfed by flames).
I’m a firm believer that this 12-step program (is not me being dramatic, but) may in fact be needed when applying for a much-anticipated position.
You’ve admitted you were broke as a joke—that you can no longer mooch off of your parents and that your friends might actually stop paying for your alcohol. So, it’s time to start applying for worthwhile positions that at least make you appear to have less of a relationship with Tumblr.
You've begun believing maybe your resume and cover letters aren’t too shabby and maybe your mom will stop crying from disappointment at your new gauges but lack of job. Your hope began to grow as you discovered there are more important responsibilities out there beyond worrying to death about the livelihood of Kim Kardashian’s baby (but I don’t blame you, really).
You’ve searched for which jobs and locations make you daydream always. You’ve broadened your spectrum on where you could see yourself five years from now and happily. You’ve also (in a moment of despair) found yourself on Craigslist tempted to become an egg donor, but you freaked yourself out and got back onto the success track soon thereafter.
You’ve initiated with emails and applications—stepped out into the wilderness of the adult world with your gender-neutral scout badges you’ve earned during the previous four years of your life. You were called to prove yourself Katniss-style and really just hope it ends relatively the same way as well.
You’ve waited…and you’ve grown a bit psycho during this stage because you’ve applied yesterday so why haven’t they emailed you already? You’ve saved their number into your phone because they’ll be hearing from you “first thing Monday morning.” You’ve messaged both current and former employees on LinkedIn requesting to be best friends for the next two months, and of course you’ve already added the position onto your Facebook profile because why wouldn’t you?
You've told everyone about your new job offer you’ll be receiving, and you’ve been sleeping in between brown boxes that read “fragile” upside down, because you’ll soon be moving and not because it’s foreshadowing. Everyone is collectively excited for you at this point and have already booked flights to visit you, probably.
You’ve grown careless about your current location and friendships and really just want to sit in front of the computer screen all day refreshing your Gmail account. You’ve responded to all of your texts with, “Can’t. Busy.” and you don’t even regret it yet. Your roommates aren’t entirely sure you’re still breathing, but it doesn’t matter because you’ll be successful soon.
You’ve started panicking because this is like, day 30 you’ve marked off your calendar without receiving a word on the “status of your application." You began thinking about all of the creepy phone calls you’ve made maybe too early on in the game. You began rethinking the way you’ve concluded your cover letter. Maybe “Yours Truly” wasn’t as appropriate or funny as you thought it would be. You’ve become exclusive with Pandora’s Adele station.
You read, you wept at the most ridiculous excuse for an email your eyes have ever graced. You reread the rejection incase your low self-confidence read “Sorry” instead of “We think you’re awesome.” This email was copy and pasted, you screamed. You got angry at the same impersonal words addressed to you and probably hundreds of other really pissed off people. You began unpacking your belongings back into the piles they were before.
You've revolted by telling your friends about how terrible that city would have been, anyway. You start believing “things happen for a reason” for the sole purpose of not slamming your head against the wall every morning. You changed your Facebook status to Cee Lo Green lyrics, inserting the company’s name for an extra jab.
After finally accepting this reality, you then reopened your laptop and refused to be out of the game this easily. You’ve come too far, bruised and battle-scarred to return to your sofa. You reread your college acceptance letter for the “feel-good” effect it gave you years ago.
You've kept calm, and carried on except you’re anything but British. You renewed your desires of achieving something great and began remapping, tailoring your future plans accordingly. You’ve become grounded this time and are much more prepared. “Thank you for your consideration, and I hope to hear from you soon,” you write again—and again, you believe it.
