There is nothing I haven’t been rejected from. Teen Jeopardy, Washington University in St. Louis, the improv group at Michigan that performed in the main lecture halls instead of the Women’s League. I’ve been rejected by jobs and boys and dance companies and one time, by a middle school production of Alice in Wonderland. I’m a happy believer in the cliche that one door closing leaves room for another to open. I am confident that nos here lead to yesses elsewhere.
Because of this, I feel uniquely qualified to help any of you out there who plan on handing out rejections of your own. A rejector’s guide to the galaxy. From someone who’s been on the other side enough times to know what works and what doesn’t.
When rejecting someone, first of all, don’t patronize them. Don’t tell them you think they’re awesome and cool and amazing. They already know this, and they don’t need your stamp of approval for the life they lived before you, and will continue to live after. Instead, try spraying them in the face with a water bottle. It gets to the point faster and they can take the hint.
Second, don’t tell them that you cannot offer them a spot after “careful consideration” of all the “many applications” you received. This makes them feel like they’re not special, like a million people want what they want, that they’re just like everyone else. Instead, tell them that you picked the recipients by assigning each candidate to a bingo ball and spinning one of those sphere cages to accept them. This way, it wasn’t their fault, it was in the hands of God and fate and the law of odds.
Third, never tell someone you want to be friends with them when rejecting them romantically. They have a lot of friends. Plenty of friends. They actually missed out on plans with a friend to spend an evening with you. You can’t go from dating to friends, this is not an HBO Max series. As an alternative, tell them the physical things about their body that make you not attracted to them. Their hair, their teeth, the length of their legs. Make sure they understand that your corporal rejection isn’t their fault, it’s genetics. But don’t comment on their nose, that has political implications.
Something else to consider, the rejection email. Here are some acceptable ways to open:
Hi Loser,
Hi Ugly,
Hi [First Name],
For the body of the email, get right to the point:
Your GPA was not high enough to attend our institution
You don’t know enough about Eastern European bodies of water to compete on Teen Jeopardy
You might talk about me in your stand-up and that is threatening to my ideas of masculinity
You can’t do the splits, which is required of all members of the High School Dance Team
Remember, when denying someone a job or relationship or place on the team, never tell them that they’re gonna be ok. That’s on them to figure out. Rejection is an art. Like art, some of it you may not understand. Some of it is long and wordy and some is straight and to the point. Tell them there are so many guys out there who are gonna want to be with them. Tell them that an academic institution with a lower College Board ranking would love to take a chance on them. Tell them that, above all, this is not personal. You’re just in a really weird place right now.
And finally, my advice for the best rejection of all, just don’t. Don’t tell them what’s going on and don’t tell them you made a decision about them. Let them wonder what they did wrong and while they do, watch their Instagram stories every day until one or both of you dies. After all, no answer is still an answer. Happy belated Valentines Day, Pillowtown. Don’t give up, every rejection is just a concept for your newsletter.