Other ways I’ve been rejected over the past fifteen years by Cristen C. '10

After my rejection from MIT in my prior post, I attended Cornell for my next degree and had a sensational time. Now, many years later, we revisit rejection with a renewed lens.

Professional writers and performers—and all others forced to bid periodically for their next opportunity—eat rejection for breakfast, I’m sure. For many, rejection can be debilitating. Some turn to exposure therapy, or perhaps the simulated version, maybe even a literal game to conquer, in a pressing effort to desensitize themselves from the pain.

The mere passage of time turned out to be that desensitizing force, for me.

Ultimately I remember only a few subsequent rejections from the past decade and a half.

• After graduation I returned to Cambridge, where those hiring for entry-level positions were happy to reject me, many times over. It turns out local graduates in my field are favored over candidates from outside the region. It made for a nervous 1-2 years.
• A pal gruffly rejected my hug; it later comes to pass they do not like being touched.
• Distinct from the typical drift between lapsed friends, one favourite gave me the slow fade. Fatalistically, I am told by others that’s just how life works.
• The first—so far only—big conference talk I submitted was unceremoniously declined.
• After we moved in 2021, Andrew J. ’10 and I placed offers on a number of houses, all losing to competing bids.
• I hit up a grad school acquaintance in my new city who never responded.
• Several essays I wrote in application to a particular early-career leadership program in my field went into the void, I guess.
• I filled out an application to be a volunteer member of an advisory group in my city, and never heard back.
• After reaching a later interview stage and fumbling the coding exercise, I got rightly rejected from a position at a startup. My interviewer—the founder—was perfectly nice about it. Job rejection can be simply a matter of having the wrong strengths at the wrong time for the company.

That there are fewer bullet points above than years elapsed feels like some sort of win, though I concede the meager pool of opportunities sought (can’t take the risk aversion out of me, alas).

But I couldn’t help but to notice that, in the rolling average of emotions, successive bets feel much lower stakes. Decisions made at the cusp of my childhood felt vitally important to my future well-being—which they were, in actuality—thereby giving rejection an unpleasant life-and-death quality. Whereas now? Coming from a place of stability and abundance gives me the upper hand here, helping me keep rejection in perspective.

I guess I’ll be okay.