5 Rejection E-Mails

So I’m sitting at the kitchen table, sipping coffee that tastes like disappointment got brewed with a side of “we regret to inform you.”

It’s got that flavor of… “maybe the spoon isn’t broken, maybe I am.”

The kind of coffee that’s seen things.

That’s been through five layoffs, two rent extensions, and one very awkward Zoom interview where the recruiter called me by the wrong name… three times.

I open my email.

Five. Rejection. Emails.

All from the same company.

Not even staggered out across the day like soft punches.

No, these hit me back-to-back like corporate Mortal Kombat.

At first, I thought it was a glitch.

Maybe I got caught in some AI auto-response loop from the underworld.

But nope. Each email was for a different role I’d applied to:

• One for “Operations Manager”

• One for “Sales Leader”

• One for “Customer Obsession Specialist” (I don’t even know what that means, but it felt intense)

• One for “Experience Alchemist” (✨ still unclear)

• And one for “Entry-Level Brand Evangelist” — which sounds like I’m supposed to baptize people with logo stickers.

And all five roles?

Same rejection. Different subject lines.

Different fonts.

One had a confetti background.

Confetti. For getting rejected.

Who programmed this email? A party clown with a vendetta?

I imagine them in their office, sipping fair-trade matcha, gathered around my résumé like it’s a Choose-Your-Own-Adventures book from 1997.

One says,

“He’s got great experience, strong leadership, and good writing skills.”

Another replies,

“Yeah, but did you see that he uses Gmail? Feels off-brand.”

And then they all nod solemnly and hit “reject” like they’re lighting candles at a rejection vigil.

And I’m just sitting there, watching the emails roll in like a romantic comedy breakup montage:

• “It’s not you.”

• “It’s us.”

• “We’ve moved on.”

• “We’re exploring other energies.”

• “We hope you thrive… elsewhere.”

At one point, I started rooting for a sixth email.

I thought, “Go big or go home, Karen. If you’re gonna crush me, at least go full musical number.”

I even replied to one with:

“Thank you for your consistent rejection. At least you’re not flaky.”

But deep down?

It weirdly made me proud.

Because here’s what it means:

I’m still applying.

I’m still showing up.

I’m still putting myself out there in a world where it’s easier to disappear into Netflix and sadness-snacks.

So go ahead, HR bots.

Send me 37 rejection emails if you must.

Because one day, I’m going to get an offer.

And it’ll be from someone who saw past the résumé font, the gap from 2022, and the fact that I made a joke in my cover letter.

Someone who says:

“You’re not just a fit. You’re the fire we’ve been missing.”

Until then?

I’ll sip this mediocre coffee.

Laugh at the absurdity.

And remind myself that rejection is just proof I’m still in motion.

Onward.