the failed workaholic

Email is a very efficient system to both send and receive rejection. Yes, rejection is always brutal, but the difference between receiving bad news by post or email is the waiting time. Just like a plaster should be swiftly removed, in one go and preferably while distracted. Getting a ‘thanks, but no thanks’ requires the same precision and ruthlessness so if the waiting time is reduced, well then, great.

Before we cohabited a parallel virtual world – rejection always arrived Monday to Friday, early morning and in the post. Nervous job seekers had a daily window of opportunity for anxiety. If the mat was empty, the rest of the day is spent hoping that tomorrow the wait would end. God forbid it was a weekend. For seekers squirreled away from their letterbox, apprehensive phone calls to loved ones was a repeated enterprise.

“Did anything come in the post for me?” “No” “Are you sure?” “Yes, I can see the door, there’s nothing” “Did the post come? I’m waiting on news from an interview” “Ah, sorry no, but what’s for you won’t pass you by” “Have to go, I’m in work” “Oh, go on or you’ll get into trouble. What time are you home at?” “Dunno, see you later” “Oh, yeah, you better go. Just a quickie, did you hear about…”

Then the phone goes dead.

Nowadays things are different, rejection is a 24/7 threat. Bar finding a WiFi black spot, the menace persists. I have not decided if this is better or worse. On one hand, minimising the time between walking out of the interview and confirming you are still job hunting, is a positive. But this omnipresent availability does not allow us any refuge from rejection. You could be reading a message or email on your phone about an impending price slash sale. Your mind starts allocating all the extra cash you will earn. Then without warning up it pops – rejection.

And you don’t have to open the email, you can tell from the preview. It is my experience that if you see ‘Thank you for attending….’, you won’t be success shopping. It’s hard not to take rejection personally, you mustn’t. It is a cold, clinical choice that considers factors outside your control. But it’s hard. It feels personal, visceral, an attack. Your head will rationalise, but your ego will cry and then possibly you will cry. It’s ok to cry.

All you understand is that, after meeting you in person, they preferred someone else. Much like models or actors, job seekers need a thick skin. Accepting rejection is difficult, but the more you become acquainted with the corporate cold-shoulder, the more you see it for what it is – nothing personal.

Years of binge reading a medley of Ladybird, Enid Blyton and Hans Christian classics left me a youthful enthusiastic martyr to the printed page. For that reason, Thursday was both my worst and best day of the week. That was the day I got to go to the library. But it was also the day we did the ‘big-shop’. If you look up ‘big shop’ in Wiktionary, it will tell you it means: “A large, regular…

Even now when I think about this, panic bubbles, ferments and rises to the point where I just want to pick up the pace and follow the white light.

I had thought about picking my career up where I left off ever since my youngest started school. It was back-to-work or join the other mammies for playdates. I love my children, but watching little Keefra dribble organic smoothie down their chin, while his mother eulogizes the benefits of kale, notachance.com.

Pre-marriage and kids, I had a promising career in publishing. I loved it, but a sneaky, relentless recession and childcare costs conspired to put a halt to my career gallop. Now I was ready to return to the workforce; employers you’re welcome. Building on my skills, I re-educated, reskilled and retrained and was ready to forge a path in a new career – technology management.

With my trademark enthusiasm, I was the mam with the plan; send awesome CV, get great job, work, promotion, awards, regain success and status, inspire my babies to greatness. I decided a generic CV and cover letter emailed to as many employers was that mornings project. Two weeks later I was ready to hit send.

I waited and waited and nothing. I followed up with a few “did you get my email?” type emails.

I waited and waited and got one reply from a pleasant, but to the point HR guy. It was not a job offer, it was my first PFO (please fx@k off) email, that politely wrapped some sage advice. It went something like this:

Thank you for taking an interest in our company, blah, blah. We are not recruiting, blah, blah. Some other words. Very competitive market, blah, blah.

And then the line that took my coffee breath away: it might be worth considering having your CV professionally done.

What did he mean, in terms of computer skills I was closer to Bill Gates than Jessica Fletcher? Thankfully, I have a friend who always sided with me. She agreed that he was completely insane not offer me a job on the spot, but would read my CV anyway.

And then she spotted it, the error in my magnum opus. An omission that forever reminds me that I have a weakness. I call this an UNDO moment because if I could, I would. The word ‘public’, used repeatedly throughout, was spelt without the ‘L’. Spellcheck, you are not an ally.

I reverted to using my maiden name and resent all the emails. Different name, reduced shame.