REJECTED.

I was accepted into every college I applied to. Big schools, little schools. Public schools, private schools. My grades were good enough to get me into my selected program and then it was just a matter of picking which university I wanted to call home for four years.

Job hunting, on the other hand...I've found it to be a landscape rife with rejection. If your materials make it past the extremely impersonal word vetting machine search, then your resume may actually see the eyes of a recruiter. If the recruiter deems your experience acceptable, you get called for the first interview. Sometimes it's over the phone, and I guess if you sound coherent and the recruiter likes your voice, you get some face time with an actual hiring manager.

I've had good interviews and bad interviews. I've stressed over them and underestimated them. Knocked them out of the park, and still was not chosen. Flopped big time and was likewise not chosen. My best worst interview was with a bookstore. I was just looking for a summer job between semesters at school and with a love for reading, why wouldn't I work at a bookstore? Plus, I'd have Sundays off as they were closed. Excited for the call, I bounded in on a hot, early summer afternoon. I was ushered into a cramped office space that may have also doubled as a break room. There was absolutely zero air circulation and I could feel rivulets of sweat rolling down my sides beneath my suit jacket. After the typical blah, blah, blah, the hiring manager launched into a round of lifestyle questions. "Who are some of your favorite artists?" I remember thinking what a bizarre question that was, then took a few moments to consider my answer before offering: "Gosh. There are so many. I admire so many of the Renaissance artists. The painters, the sculptors. A lifelong dream of mine is to see Brunelleschi's dome in Florence. I'm also deeply affected by the works of the post-World War I era. Those artists created out of such a desolate space..." As I was waxing poetic, I realized a blank look on the manager's face. I trailed to a stop and with the same dead eyes, he said: "I meant recording artists."

Yup. Nailed it.

It was a dead ringer from the scene in "Miss Congeniality" where William Shatner's Stan Fields asks the Heather Burns character (Miss Rhode Island) to describe her idea of a perfect date. Her answer? "April 25th." Because it wasn't too hot or too cold and all you need is a "light jacket." While the fictional Miss Rhode Island went on to win the pageant, I never heard from the bookstore again and ended up peddling bras at Victoria's Secret for the summer.

Fast forward to the present. In 10 months of joblessness, I've had one interview. ONE. I attended college with the promise and the expectation that a college degree would be my ticket to greatness. When I found a company that would pay for my master's degree, I grabbed that ticket and ran with it. If an undergrad degree was good, a master's was better. Having already gone through two "reorganizations," I assumed an MBA would be added insurance. My current self laughs cynically at my hopeful optimism. It was worth a try. I'm officially on the outside looking in, wondering where the door is. The more jobs I apply for, the more rejection letters roll in. My new reality is that I'll probably have to take a job that is entry-level that won't engage my mind at all. I get irrationally emotional any time I apply for an administrative assistant type job; and I start to feel panicky when I realize I may have to go back to retail management. However, despite the cynicism that lurks somewhere in my core, there is an eternal type of optimism that springs up from some unknown place. I still apply for those dream-type jobs (lululemon in London? yes, please!) Administrative assistant? Well...if I even get a call, it would at least bear a semblance to some routine/schedule. And that would allow for writing time...hmmm. Besides, rejection letters for administrative assistant jobs are, in my experience, the most entertaining: 

"Dear Christin,
We have received your application for the position of Administrative Assistant...After careful consideration, we regret to inform you that the position has been canceled." 

Maybe it's because I go through several of those letters a week, but something about that one made me laugh. Typically, in my experience with job cancellations, they read something like "We got your application but the position was cancelled." This one hit me like "After seeing your credentials and giving them some consideration, we realized it's just not worth it and have cancelled this position." But at least they avoided all the flowery "While your qualifications are impressive..." nonsense. Just cut to the chase. You don't want me. I get it. 

If there's one thing lack of job security and continual rejection has taught me, it's to keep your sense of humor. Some days, it's easier than others. But really. If I wasn't laughing, I'd be crying. So roll your eyes and have a chuckle when you get rejected. Then get ready to start over again. And even more than that, I've learned that placing your sense of self-worth solely in your work is a risky investment. I had my can-do attitude and power suit, plus that shiny new MBA, and always, always a designer cup of coffee in my hand. But in the end, none of it mattered. Not my perfect attendance. Not my creation of a new-hire on-boarding orientation and training logistics program. Not my place of favor with the regional leadership. Too much of my self-worth was tied to that power suit and the job responsibilities that I accepted with it. All the sleep lost over project deadlines, the late nights ironing out details, burning the midnight oil checking emails from different time zones...none of it matters now. When they said "Sorry it's not you, it's us"...that was it. There was no "Thanks for working late every Friday night until we got that program running smoothly." No, "Sorry about all the lost sleep on that project." Sure, I can say I'm a "hard worker" on my resume, but does anyone really care? I'm not saying not to take pride in your work. You can work hard and be proud of it, but at the end of the day, it's still just a job. It's a paycheck. And you can't take it with you when you go. Do I want to find a job I can be proud of? Of course. Maybe a job with a good looking man who is smart and has a great sense of humor. That would be a dream. But I need to keep my focus on living life to the fullest despite my circumstances. I feel like it's my responsibility as a healthy human being to accumulate experiences. At the end of this life, are you going to say "I worked a lot of late nights and made a lot of money, but never found free time to spend it" or "I used every last second of my vacation time and spent my money on hiking Kilimanjaro, feeding starving children, and in general milking every last ounce of experience I could from this life. I've got no regrets. Toss my ashes out of a plane. I'd like to go skydiving one last time."