"Don't waste yourself in rejection." --Ralph Waldo Emerson
By Amanda Gillooly
BLB Guest Blogger
The rejection came three-fold. The first came by e-mail, the second via the U.S. Postal Service and the last through no communication at all. I had tried not to get my hopes up (or allow them to stay there long if they drifted skyward) but that’s just not my style. I don’t do chill, calm or collected. I get carried away with big, lofty dreams and I crash hard when I get shot down.
Those of you who know me can imagine the spectrum of emotions. They’ve seen that movie. I get devastated, I bemoan myself, I consider plans for revenge (My name is Amanda Blu Gillooly… you killed my dream. Prepare to die!), then I sulk and then I get over myself.
It was harder to get to the “over it” part this time, though. I attribute it to the blow in self-confidence that comes free with walking papers. While the rational part of me (that little, tiny section) knows that it was dollars and cents, when has rational ever won? When it does, it always seems to be a fourth-quarter victory – and a close one, too.
But I did. After I bitched to my sister, complained to my BFFF Scott and broadcasted my angst over several social networking sites, I started to come around. And for the first time since rejection struck, I was able to see things from a more balanced state of mind.
Job #1, the managing editor position, was out of my experience range. A professor at the college I applied to e-mailed to let me know how much competition there had been for the position – with applicants who had ample magazine production experience on their resumes.
Job #2 was a freelance marketing gig I was recruited for, only to be unceremoniously cast off. Not only did I have absolutely no experience in marketing, but as it turns out, no interest in it, either. So why was I so upset? I guess once I get in a tizzy I roll with it.
Job #3? Well, that was a communications manager position I still think I’d be well-suited for. Requiring strong writing, editing and interpersonal skills, it was one I was pumped for, too. But I haven’t heard back. And it has been three weeks. So, while there may be hope for a second interview, I’m not holding my breath.
The rejection felt different this time, but it was essentially the same song and dance. What matters, as always, is what you do after getting the shaft. I asked myself: Are you going to sit and complain and binge drink or are you going to get back to the keyboard, send out some more query letters all the while working to re-inflate your own ego?
I know I should have answered: “Get back to the keyboard!” but I had already bought a case of Blue Moon and it seemed silly not to drink a few. So I cracked one open and began my story – and rejection was the last thing on my mind.
Amanda Gillooly previously worked for the Observer-Reporter and now freelances She can be reached by e-mail at firstname.lastname@example.org.
In Memoriam: Tripp Zanetis, 1980 - 2018
4 days ago