Anatomy of a Rejection Letter

Contrary to what this sounds like at the offset, I'm not a bitter man. Or boy, or child, or thumb-sucking baby whining about there being the need to exert effort in life in order to obtain the things one wishes. (Shit, I can't get the cap off my beer bottle. I think I'll scream until Kim comes to undo it.)

So this isn't whining I'm attempting here--it's rhetorical analysis. (The whining is an added bonus.) After all, I have finished my graduate work in rhetoric, have I not? Am I not a tall, sprightly, steely-eyed college graduate, capable of discovering exigesis in the most unlikely places? And if I'm not, can I fake it?

Absolutely. To demonstrate, let me recount the latest in what I'm sure will be an even longer line of rejection letters. I give you the one from the Shit College, which I had the honor of receiving today.

First of all, let it be said that this is a letter I pretty much expected from the start. I don't personally know anyone from my neck of the woods who's ever landed a job there, except one person, and I sort of assume she's been fired by now. So getting this letter wasn't a big slap in the face or anything--probably the fact that they bothered to send a rejection letter in the first place speaks rather highly of me as an unemployed teacher.

Second of all, Shit College does not mean "bad" college, but "good," as in "That college is the shit!" Why was this pessimistic from the start? See Reason #1 above.

Third, I am something of an expert in rejection letters. In the past four months, I've received them from high schools, junior colleges, two-year and four-year colleges and even overseas schools (some written in fluent English, some not). So I've been let down easy, and I've been let down abruptly before. Nothing new. In fact, let me go so far as to say those who only go after "sure things" in any employment arena without risking such letters are nothing but a bunch of high-rent pussies. "Going for it" is tough enough; going for the gold is what separates the men from the boys.

Having stated these disclaimers, let me get to the bare bones. Shit College needs a few lessons in the very rhetoric I am proposing to teach their students. This is, bar none, the dumbest rejection letter I've ever gotten for anything, including that high school bitch who wouldn't go to the Winter Dance with me. Her letter consisted of "Dear Gregg: I like you, and maybe I like you like you, but I don't really like you like you. Or else I really like you like you, but I don't like you like I really, like, like you. Wait, let me start over..." I had to go on medication drugs after reading that sucker. But that was Tolstoy compared to what I have in my hands right now:

Dear Gregory J. Long:

See? Right off the bat they screwed up. All my materials went out signed "Gregg Long." My father must have gotten to them, damn it.

After much time and careful consideration of each applicant...the Search Committee has submitted the list of finalists to the administrator. We are pleased with the number of well-qualified people who applied for this position, and are especially pleased with the outstanding strengths and accomplishments of those who emerged as finalists.

Right now, warning bells would be going off in my head if I didn't know better (that is, if I didn't know that receiving a letter rather than a phone call from an institution of higher education is pretty much the kiss of death). Apparently I was up against a ton of qualified applicants, which is never good news, especially for me. I've made a career throughout my life going for the popsicle stands and roller skating rinks purporting to be business establishments, so as to better distinguish myself. This is not something I can do while surrounded by people who are genuinely successful.

Our only regret is that we were unable to interview more (applicants).

Notice that we're one paragraph in and I haven't even been personally identified yet, save in the salutation. I have learned that there were a ton of great people who are finalists, though. Gee, I guess that must be a good sign, nuh?

(new paragraph) I apologize for keeping you in suspense for so long.

Now is that suspense over the materials I mailed to you back in fucking February, or suspense over this entirely useless first paragraph while you pat yourself and your other butt-buddies on the back over making the Queen's List...I mean, Dean's List? Cut to the chase already, will you? At least within another page.

I regret having this duty of telling you that you are no longer being considered for the position.

Whoah, I just about had a heart attack there. A real shocker.

Where to start with this sentence? "I regret having this duty of telling you" is, besides being excessively wordy, clearly an appeal to my pathos, or to my finer sensibilities: i.e. I'm to feel badly for her having this duty, and if I'd been a better-qualified applicant, she wouldn't now have to be going through the pain and agony of telling me to flake off. "You are no longer being considered" has other presuppositions, ones that are decidedly more shadowy. Was I ever truly "considered?" Or does "considered" entail no more than my letter sitting on some ditzy, gum-chewing secretary's desk for a week or so while she played "Eenie meenie" to decide which would go to the Search Committee, and which would be taken home for her four-year-old son to draw pictures of Mugworts battling Annakin Skywalker?

We truly appreciate your interest in College of Shit and your willingness to apply. We respect your abilities, accomplishments and the many contributions you have already made to the enrichment of our common profession.

Now which common profession would that be, Harriet? Teaching English? I know that can't be it; else you would have written "we appreciate your interest in the College of Shit." And I know damn well it's not teaching "Writing Rejection Letters 101" because you'd have failed hands-down. As for my "willingness to apply," that's a good one--I grant you that. Translated, it goes something like "You took time out of your busy schedule of heavy boozing and bowling to write a letter you knew damn well wouldn't make the cut. That says something about the nobilty to be found in futility. You should work that into a freshman comp lesson plan...too bad we know better than to let you do it at our school." Furthermore, if you truly respected my abilities and accomplishments, you'd probably be able to spiel off at least one of them, and then tell me why that didn't do it, right? Don't bother scrambling about for the file; your four-year-old already peed on it.

(new paragraph)Thanks again for giving us the opportunity to consider you for the position.

Sure, no problem. I bet you guys get a real kick out of dangling carrots in front of tethered mules, too.

I wish you the very best in obtaining your career goals.

Yeah yeah yeah, blah-de-blah blah blah.

Worst rejection letter ever. Think about the logistics of the situation. You want to teach how to write rejection letters, just like you'd teach how to write cover letters or successful resumes (see NIU's Education Employment Guide). In each of these cases, you're given a template to work with. The template here would be downright dangerous:

1st paragraph: Tell what a great time you had recruiting. Make it clear that the reader hasn't made the cut without explicitly saying so. Praise all the others who did. Drive his ambition into the dirt, but save a little for the second paragraph.
2nd paragraph: Let the ball drop. Make a few vague references to his skills, but make it clear that they're still below your standards. Thanking him for trying in the first place is optional. Wishing him luck is mandatory (what else can you give the poor slob?).

Still, all things considered, the joke's on them: I'm not graduating until December, so I wouldn't have been able to take the job anyway. Ha! Showed them, didn't I?