Rather, the “shocking” part of this letter was that I cried when I received it. Big, heavy, ugly sobs. I’ve developed thick skin since moving to New York last fall, so rejection is par for the course these days. But for some reason this rejection stung, like taking hydrogen peroxide to both retinas. I was shaken by my response...
The position in question was a summer internship. I thought I’d be a shoo-in. With more than a year of professional working experience, plus four unpaid internships prior, I’d maintained that I could swing an entry level position in the city. When that belief became less apparent, I applied to summer internships—typically reserved for undergraduates.
Recruiters encouraged the application process and said that my lack of agency experience was best combatted with an internship. They asked me to keep in touch. Yesterday I emailed a quick, bright note alerting one such recruiter that I’d applied. She and I chatted on the phone twice this winter, what I perceived as chummy, yet professional interactions. In less than 24 hours my application was denied. No reply.
I’m not naive to think that the world owes me a job simply for showing up. Yet I am starting to question if there’s something so repulsive about my personality that recruiters immediately dismiss me. I’ve been rejected for dozens of entry-level positions. I know New York is competitive, but am I missing a personal red flag? Then, the other night at dinner, one of my friends observed something interesting…
Her brother, an accomplished scholar, careerist, and all around warm and wonderful friend, had been rejected by many of his top graduate schools post-interview.
“I think it’s his enthusiasm,” she remarked. “I think it might come off as fake. You and I know that he is the most sincere and genuine person, but I think some interviewers can’t detect that. Like when he’s talking about things he’s passionate about, he gets so excited. I think they think it’s a turnoff. Or that he’s playing some smiley, happy-go-lucky, yes-man shtick. Which is so unfair.”
Long forgotten memories of rejections from colleges, organizations, groups, and individuals came pooling back to my mind’s eye. Every one where I had been excited by the opportunity and made my feelings known, only to be shot down viciously. Finally, insight!
Groucho Marx and Woody Allen famously said they didn’t want to belong to any club that wanted them as a member. Safe to say that many clubs feel similarly about overly enthusiastic applicants. That’s fine and good for social rituals, but wouldn’t it be fantastic if employers distanced themselves from that practice?
I’ve read countless interviews with CEOs claiming they prefer employees that are enthusiastic, tenacious, friendly, and supportive over those holding bloated and impressive resumes. I’m just not seeing the proof in the pudding, or more importantly, the hiring process.
Maybe this disparity continues because the line between enthusiasm and over-eagerness is difficult to pinpoint. Enthusiasm is “I’m excited about the work your company is doing, I’d love to contribute!” Over-eagerness is “I will take any job thrown my way, please please please give it to me!” Recruiters and higher-ups say they want hunger, but then again they “don’t want someone that’s too hungry” (Direct quote). Confusing, right?
Navigating the job search is hard enough. After finding a position, making a contact, tailoring a resume, and creating engaging talking points, tempering enthusiasm is an agonizing assignment.
For instance, when I’m excited about something, I’m REALLY excited. I throw my whole heart into the newfound interest. Addictive television show (ahem, Sweet/Vicious and Riverdale)? Let me gab about plot points for hours. Holiday festivities where I can dress extravagantly? Expect me to show up in something quirky, glittery, and with a headpiece component. Have you heard me recommend Vitamin D to literally every new friend I’ve made? Of course you have. That shit is the tops and I want everyone to know about it.
Yes, this character trait sporadically results in disappointment and/or a broken heart, but it’s also afforded me really cool experiences. If the project doesn’t work out, I adapt and move along. I’m an adult; I know how to diagnose and deal with my personality quirks by now.
Yet many people approach optimism and good humor with caution—have you noticed? Being upbeat by default gets me more negative attention than positive regard.
“What drugs are YOU on?”
“Are you always this happy?”
“You haven’t experienced real pain yet. Otherwise you wouldn’t be this chipper.”
More often than not, these comments are dismissive and insulting. Call me old fashioned, but I was taught to respect peers and not allow my petty frustrations to bleed into interactions with them. Taking out your disappointment on someone else is a fast track way to becoming a perpetually unhappy person and poisoning those around you.
What’s the solution here? Get a job by being less excited about the world around me? Acting too cool to care about the work, my peers, or my future? The way of the working world may be to adopt coldhearted composure—and I certainly understand the gravity of that virtue in some situations—but to be so disenchanted by the world at age 24? Seems foolish and limiting in the long run.
So COME AT ME, rejections. In an increasingly bitter and divided world, I’ll continue to nurture an open mind and a curious heart, but most importantly, one hundred and ten percent enthusiasm AT š ALL š TIMES š
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