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01.28.01 I gave her my heart, and she gave me a pen by Jon Worley Almost three months ago, I applied for a job running the web site for a state agency. Well, it's a reasonably cool state agency, but I don't want to say more than that. Anyway, I interviewed once, got called back for a second interview (where I was one of two finalists) in the middle of December, and then waited. Around the new year, I left a couple of messages on voice mail and never heard anything. On Friday, I got my rejection letter. It was the exact same letter that every other unsuccessful applicant received. I know this because the letter thanks me for my application, and not for any personal contact I might have has with anyone at the agency. The letter then goes on to say that numerous qualified applicants were interviewed (leaving the implication that I was not among them) and that someone of superior qualifications received the job. The last part I buy. And that's the only piece of the letter that makes sense to me. I understand that anything involved with government involves an impersonal bureaucracy, and that there is probably a rule specifying that every unsuccessful applicant must receive a similar, if not identical, rejection letter. Even so, I think I deserved a personal note as well. At the very least. I have a theory about handling job applicants. Basically, the more contact a company has with an applicant, the more personal any possible rejection should be. The best companies acknowledge every applicant, at least with a postcard that says "We got your stuff and we'll be deciding who we want to bring in during the next few weeks." I'm fine with that. I know that they have my stuff, and I know that after a certain period of time I'm no longer in the running. We're cool. At this early stage of the process, if there's no interview, then silence is acceptable. That's not an optimal response, but many companies simply don't have the resources to contact every person who applied. Now, once a person is interviewed, the stakes are raised. I think a personal rejection note is acceptable after one interview, though a phone call is preferable. The best companies call, and then send the note (to satisfy the paper chase). After two interviews, the phone call is the preferred method of rejection. The interviewee is a person who has spent a few hours of his or her time at the company's pleasure, and someone owes them five minutes. At the very least (and this borders on unacceptable), send a personal note. A form letter is right out. Once again, I must emphasize that it is possible that the state regulates even job rejection notices, and that it is also possible that the state forbids any sort of personal rejection missal. If that's the case, then whoever oversees state employees should be slapped upside the head. Twice. But I don't believe that's the case. I think the folks at this agency simply don't understand how to treat applicants correctly. The thing is, I've gotten rejections from lots of places, and this is hardly the most cowardly. When I lived in St. Pete, I applied to the local weekly in an attempt to serve as music editor. During the interview, I insulted a local musician (a truly dreadful artist, in the opinion of many more people than me). This local musician happened to be close friend of the editor interviewing me, though I didn't discover this fact until six months later. In any case, I never had a shot at the job. But what happened there was that I didn't hear anything for three weeks. Then I saw the name of a new person as music editor in the weekly. So I called, just for shits and grins. The editor who interviewed me stammered and hawed, saying a decision hadn't made. When I pointed out that the person in question was already on the masthead, she said that there must have been some sort of a mistake and then hung up on me. The next day I received a form rejection note in the mail. Needless to say, the Weekly Planet people are still on my shitlist. I once interviewed twice at a company in Baltimore. During the drive down from York before the second meeting, I decided that I really didn't want the job. So I kinda tanked the interview with the big cheese. I felt a little bad about that, but all I did was answer questions honestly (e.g. Q: Are you willing to work lots of overtime? A: Not really, since I'll be driving an hour each way for this job). They didn't even send a note. That didn't bother me as much, though, because I should have simply not gone down for the second interview. I know that I embarrassed the person who recommended me that far, and I still feel a little bad about that. Making these rejection calls is rough. When I served as Program Director at my college radio station, I had to hire music directors and other folks. Every time there were a couple of qualified applicants who nevertheless didn't make the cut. I didn't handle the rejections well, though I did do them in person. Basically, I kept apologizing, which just makes everyone feel bad. But the key is, I made myself available to answer reasonable questions. I tried (even though I failed) to make the rejection sting a little less. Rejection sucks. There's no doubt about it. But it's very important to be stand up about these things. If you've interviewed a person, hiding behind a generic form letter is the coward's way out. I won't apply to this agency again unless I get an apology (and I'm quite sure that won't be forthcoming). I know of many companies in this area who have similar reputations when it comes to hiring, and I won't apply to them, either. At some point, more companies will realize that this kind of bad rap is bad for business. Until then, I'll have plenty of malfeasance fodder for my writing.
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