Rejection A Corporate Romance

Let me tell you a story.

It started like every great modern love story: with an email notification from Karen in HR.

Karen. The name alone sounds like a scented candle that smells like corporate policies and passive aggression.

When her first email arrived, I felt butterflies.

“Hi Alex! We loved your résumé and think you might be a great fit!”

I almost proposed on the spot. I imagined us taking long walks to the water cooler, bonding over shared trauma from annual reviews, and rolling our eyes in perfect unison during all-hands meetings.

Her next email?

“Could you provide your availability for next week’s interview?”

Music to my job-hunting ears. I cleared my entire week faster than a toddler flips a plate of peas.

But then Karen turned. Oh, she turned.

“Could you clarify your experience in cross-functional optimization and scalable frameworks?”

Karen, I can barely optimize my sleep schedule, but okay.

So I wrote back, sprinkling in every buzzword I could find on LinkedIn:

“I’m passionate about leveraging synergies across dynamic stakeholder ecosystems to drive holistic, scalable impact.”

Translation: I send emails and pray someone responds.

She replied:

“Thanks! Could you also expand on your experience with transformational leadership and operational excellence?”

My experience? Lady, my biggest operational accomplishment this week was finding matching socks.

But I complied. Like a contestant on a cooking show who keeps saying “Yes, Chef” while setting everything on fire.

Then came the worst part: silence.

Days went by. I refreshed my inbox so often my mouse started sweating. My Gmail began to ask, “Are you okay?”

Finally, she wrote back.

“Thank you for your time and effort. We’ve decided to move forward with another candidate.”

It hit me like a 3 a.m. “We need to talk” text.

“It’s not you, it’s us. We’re just looking for something different right now. Stay amazing!”

Karen, we were so close to having Slack convos about our favorite bagels and complaining about the printer together. I thought we had something real. But no — you went with Brad, who “thrives in ambiguity” and runs half-marathons for fun.

I wanted to write back:

“Karen, was it the typo in my cover letter? Was I too desperate when I said I’d be ‘thrilled to join your dynamic family’?”

Instead, I closed my laptop like it had personally betrayed me, grabbed a family-sized bag of pretzels, and started rewatching The Office for emotional support.

Corporate rejection really is like a breakup: you pour your heart out, plan your future, and then get ghosted with a polite “best of luck.”

So, dear job seekers: the next time you see Karen in your inbox, approach with caution. Because sometimes she loves you… and sometimes she’s just here to teach you about emotional resilience (and maybe push you toward a new therapy session).

Onward, my friends. And if Karen writes again? Leave her on read. You deserve better.