Almostgotit.com

My husband and I finally had an argument over this whole job thing last night… sort of remarkable, really, that it took us this long.

We are supposed to make our final decision about the new job today, and The Mid-Level Guy (T.M.L.G.) was supposed to get back to us yesterday morning with his counter-offer.

By 9 pm. last night we’d not heard a word, and began making plans about how to handle his silence.  Tensions were a wee bit high.

We finally got T.M.L.G’s email at about 11 pm… no, he hadn’t heard yet from his superiors with the money part, but hey, before? When he said pretty dismissively that he couldn’t do anything for The Wife? Turns out maybe he could get Almostgotit a very low level, very poorly paid secretarial job in his own Development office after all, which could be a great entree into Development in general, which we all know is a growing and lucrative field.

Yes I do know, says I, to Mr. Almostgotit. And I’m trying very hard to appreciate his efforts.

But might I point out,  says I additionally, That it’s the other city’s highest level Development/Advancement people (among others) who are calling me directly, on the phone (not just sending emails via my husband) and talking to me about writing and PR jobs in Development — instead of ignoring my updated resume altogether and offering an entry-level clerical job instead, citing my fracking “organizational skills?!?”

All else being truly equal, we both would rather stay in Tennessee, but

No one will ever just hand you a job, says Mr. A. You’ve got to try harder, or get another degree.

Maybe, counters I. But lots of people, especially those not occupying your own particular little part of the world, would say instead that the best way to get jobs is though connections, And how crazy am I to turn my back on this only time, ever, that so many people are going to bat for me, in the other city, right now??

(Besides, I add, much later. Besides. How can you say I haven’t tried??)

The man here is trying, says Mr. A. We should consider his offer. He’s right about it being an entree…

No, says I. If I wanted that kind of job, I could get one on my own. There are a million of them at The Institution that Shall not Be Named ( TITSNOB. *) Thank T.M.L.G for me, of course, but I am a terrible, terrible secretary. And I know exactly the job he’s talking about… I used to bring my paperwork to that person, buried in a basement office in a sea of filing cabinets and paperwork. That’s all she did. I’d die there. I’d DIE.

If you could get one of those jobs on your own, why haven’t you, says Mr. A.

Because I haven’t applied for any of those jobs, says I, a wee bit too loudly. And if I did want to be a secretary, I’d certainly not be one at TITSNOB, as the standard pay elsewhere in Knoxville is almost twice as much. I know, because I’ve looked into it, several times.

If we want to stay here, we need to find out more about the job, at least, says Mr. A.  Do you even KNOW what you want?

Some, says I, voice stupid and wobbly.  I know some of what I want.  And I know I don’t want to be a secretary.

This isn’t just any secretarial job, says Mr. A., but could lead to higher things…

No it won’t,  says I. It won’t. Name one secretary at TITSNOB who has ever gone on to other things, beyond more responsible secretarial jobs? Besides, there is so much paperwork at that place that I’d never have time for anything else. The world needs paperwork people, TITSNOB needs more than most, and some people are satisfied being paperwork people.  Many paperwork people are delightful, but for me those jobs are a DISASTER. 

Slight rolling of the eyes from Mr. A.

I’m not just being dramatic, or snotty, says I.   I’ve failed in four clerical jobs, remember, and grown past them in any case? I keep wanting to push the envelope. I find the work-arounds that work better. I get in trouble in clerical jobs. I’m one of those people that OTHER job ads ask for: “A self-starter,” and that is exactly what TITSNOB does not want in its secretaries. I know that better than anyone else — remember?!?

We both have very mixed feelings, and clearly we are both a little whacky. But how I would love to thumb my nose at TITSNOB and ride the hell out of town without looking back. And how delicious it would be for everyone here to know that the deciding factor in our leaving was the great job someone else just gave to his wife — the formerly-known-pain-in-the-butt we call ”Almostgotit.”

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*Re TITSNOB:  No, the acronym doesn’t really work, but that’s okay because TITSNOB doesn’t really work either.

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** Re Penelope Trunk:  This post isn’t, strictly, like one of Penelope Trunk’s, because (a) I got my husband’s permission to talk about our argument and (b) I did not mention anyone’s genitalia, shaved or otherwise.

I’m on a deadline this week, so am pulling things out of the mailbag instead of actually writing anything myself. 

Gene left this comment for me, over the weekend, on an older post, but I loved it so much I’m giving it star treatment today.  

Dear Ms. Burman Almostgotit,

I regret to inform you that we will not be able to post your latest blog entry regarding rejections on either our website or our Facebook page. While we recognize you did not actually ask that your entry be posted on any of our internet real estate, we thought this “Bush doctrine-inspired-pre-emptive” letter of rejection would be a good idea should you possibly have entertained any notions of making such a request.

Personally, Ms. Burman  ALMOSTGOTIT, your non-request was given serious consideration, and indeed you were one of two finalists in our deliberations. We chose not to post the entry from the other leading candidate whom we favored over you because we did not receive her request before we didn’t receive your request.

We hope you can understand the complexity of our situation, and we wish you the best of luck with your blogging career.

Most sincerely,

Gene Murrow 

From Douglas Wilson, On Paper Wings:

Need more proof that committees get nothing done right? The Museum of Modern Art sent this letter to Andy Warhol in 1956 rejecting his gift of one of his early drawings. I am guessing they have regretted this decision for at least 40 years…

(Click for a larger version: andy-warhol-rejection-letter.jpg)

A friend of mine let me blog for a whole entire week on the subject of rejection before admitting to me that his psych lab research at Berkeley was on the topic of “rejection sensitivity.” 

There followed a rather intense exchange of emails in which I obnoxiously tried to debunk everything he said.  That’s me, an obnoxious debunker.  So no wonder, maybe, he never told me what he’d been doing for two whole years of his life?

On the bright side, he also sent me two very good jokes.  I hope he won’t mind if I pass them on:

Q. What’s Irish and stays out all night? 

A. Patio Furniture.

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Q. What do insomniac, dyslexic agnostics do all night? 

A. They stay awake wondering if there is a Dog.

Should you take rejection personally?  Good Lord, of course you should. You are a person, after all.

What else are you going to do, take it like a llama?

(1) Resiliance is not a moral virtue.

The amount of resilience you have is more like a hair color: It’s something you’re born with, unless you change it with chemicals.

Don’t listen when people tell you to get over it, move on, and let go. What the hell do they know? Feel what you feel. Discontent and anger are not defects, they are human. They are also very powerful tools for change, if you use them right.

(2) Success is not a moral virtue either

Success often is more like the lottery. Some people win the first time they buy a ticket, and try to convince the rest of us that winning only happens to people who believe in themselves with their whole entire hearts; other people win the lottery after buying 100 tickets, and then spend their lives urging the rest of us to keep on buying lottery tickets until it works for us, too.

The only logical conclusion to this line of thought is that people are starving in Africa  because they deserve it.  We need to stop equating vocational (and economical) success with personal virtue.

(3) … Nor does success  inevitably follow upon hard work or persistence

We also need to stop telling people that hard work and persistence will inevitably lead to vocational success. Hard work may increase the mathematical odds of success, sure, but there are no guarantees.

How unfortunate it is that we keep insisting that success comes from good character and hard work.  The American mobility myth is astonishingly persistent, despite many recent (and bipartisan) studies that debunk it.

The good news? You can stop beating yourself up, now. Being unsuccessful is not a character flaw, and there is nothing wrong with you.  Nor is there anything wrong with embracing your own experience for what it is, and moving through and past it your own way, too.   I’m sorry I can’t tell you how to succeed, nor even guarantee that you will. But on behalf of the rest of the world, please let me say: we need you just the way you are.

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Update:  Yesterday our local paper posted excerpts of my entry about the Knoxville shooting in several places on their website.  For a few hours it was Google City around here.  Therefore, I’d already written today’s entry when I was pinged by this article about anger, written by a licensed therapist, who took my point and ran with it quite beautifully.  So now you have it from a real expert!

The picture above was inspired by my friend David, who suggested the words and said “it’s all about the psychological FRAME you choose.”

The letters and stories keep pouring in, so be sure to come back on Friday when I’ll try to have a complete list, including the Worst Rejection Letter Ever (Really. It’s so delicious I want to eat it.)

Also, I need to disclose that I’ve been scooped. The Rejection Collection is a treasure house of rejection letters, rejection letter poetry, plus pages and pages of rip-roaring rants.

Rejected Again? Don’t despair. Join your fellow writers and artists to laugh in the face of rejection. It may not make you feel any better, but it’s better than banging your head against the wall.

I laughed. I cried. I discovered I may be suffering from a hitherto unknown malady called “Extreme Un-Published Syndrome” (Eups!)

Jack Handey published a wonderful series of funny Rejection letters a few years back in The New Yorker. They’re no longer viewable on TNY’s website, but I’ve linked to a copy on Does it Echo. I particularly liked this one:

Dear Sir:
If it is any consolation, we feel that if we had hired you, by now we would have been forced to let you go.
Sincerely,
Personnel Department

At the bottom of Handey’s list is a very funny reverse-rejection letter, versions of which have been ubiquitous on the internet ever since.

Coming tomorrow:  Of course you should take rejection personally!

Mikael Rudolph is a college buddy of mine. That was back in the stone age, but even then he was a fabulous mime. Come to think of it, that’s also probably when he got so good at taming rocks — but more about that in a minute.

Mikael is also a cancer survivor, having had a fairly miraculous cure of a tumor that appeared in a rather undignified location, and as a result is currently writing a play called (ahem) Cancer, My Ass. 

You may not have heard of Mikael, but I bet you’ve heard of the world’s most famous mime,Marcel Marceau. Marceau once said of Mikael that  ”In this style… he is a master. Absolutely. It could not have been done any better.”

I KNOW.  Wow, right? 

But mimes don’t get no respect, and Mikael wanted me to share what he CLAIMS to be a possibly-fictional tale of his disastrous journey to Chicago to audition for an “America’s Got Talent” casting director. 

REJECTION. Oh, if only he had bouncing breasts, was married to someone who bites the heads off of live bats, or had apprenticed with Donald Trump. 

But here: judge for yourself, and don’t miss the pet rock.

Yesterday morning, two miles away from my house, a man named Jim Adkisson burst into a church and started shooting people.  Today we found out that Mr. Adkisson has not been able to find a job, and that he’d hoped to die in the shooting, too.

Last Friday, another man named Randy Pausch  did die, after first inspiring an entire nation with his positive approach to life even as he was battling terminal cancer. 

I do not presume to know why these two men reacted so differently to the adversity they faced.  We *can not know* why some people are so much more resilient than others, nor what battles other people may still be fighting. 

Most of the time, I can turn my own anger about my many, MANY rejections into humor — Malcolm Gladwell asserts that all comedy is based on anger! — and for the rest of week I’ll (almost always) be hilarious.  Promise.

But let’s take the topic itself seriously. Telling a hurting, rejected person that he needs to stop feeling what he feels and feel something else instead (”stop wallowing,” etc.) is like rejecting that person all over again. We are a seriously repressed people, and we repress each other, too. I think most of us are afraid that being angry and upset, or even showing that we are angry and upset, metaphorically may be the same as killing people in a church.  It is not.