When we were young and innocent, we found it easy to make statements like “That can never be me!” or “How did he allow himself to get to that level?” And maybe in adulthood, sometimes judgment may creep in, but it will be swatted away by our own experiences.
Weeks ago, I met Dr. Tim, a professor Emeritus at my University. He was donating to Big Foot Athletes after checking out the blog and feeling inspired. After our interaction, I walked over to the chairs in the lobby where a classmate was seated.
“Hi,” I beamingly greeted her (let’s call her Joan).
“Hi,” she replied, “I heard back from Company X.”
My eyes immediately lit up. The entire class knew that she had applied to Company X, as we had held a class session at their headquarters, and that information had found its way among us.
“And?” I asked excitedly.
“I was rejected.”
I hadn’t sat down. Her response caught me mid-air. I froze for a moment. My initial reaction was to laugh. Not because this was a funny situation, but because the previous night, my soul had slept out of my body.
For the past weeks, I had nervously checked my email for an opportunity I dearly wanted.
Let’s rewind this story. One of the spaces I have long admired to work in is sports media and communications spaces (I bet my blog says it all). An opportunity was advertised last year by one of the organizations I dream of working with. It was a 10-day internship opportunity. I wasted no time, and I had my application sent in. A month later, I received an email congratulating me for making it to the next stage in the selection process. I tapped my chest with pride for having been one of the 12 women selected out of 1000s of applications.
The next phase was a meeting with our “would-be” supervisor at the company (in case we landed the opportunity). He presented us with a task from which the organization would select candidates to make it to the next round of interviews. This was more than exciting for me, as it was a writing assignment. We had to keenly follow an ongoing global tournament.
Due to timezone differences, the games usually started at midnight or 3:00 am (my time), yet in the host countries, it was either morning, afternoon, or evening. I spent three nights sleeping for less than four hours. I was committed to watching particular games of interest to build on my article for the assignment.
In basketball, we say, “He/she/they left it all on the floor.” In simple terms, it means the athlete played their heart out, doing everything possible within their means to achieve victory. I finally submitted the articles after hours and hours spent perfecting them.
A couple of weeks swept by without hearing back. Every time my phone vibrated, I was nervous to check what notification it was (I only have email notifications on my phone). For once, I felt like removing the email notifications as well. I had so much hope and faith in the opportunity. It felt like I had texted someone I had a crush on, and I was eagerly waiting for them to confess that they also had a crush on me.
Thursday evening, after dinner, I walked to the Wellness Center (this is a recreation space with a gym, other fitness rooms, sauna, swimming pool, squash and basketball courts, among other facilities). I had gone to watch intramural volleyball. The noisy environment protected me from hearing or sensing my phone’s vibration. The games were not exciting, so I texted a friend to ask for a ride to Walmart to buy some groceries.
As soon as I pulled my phone out of my pocket, its screen lit up. The email notification I had waited for finally popped up. I stopped breathing. I wasn’t thinking straight. I put the phone back in the pocket. An acquaintance who was officiating the volleyball games came over to say hi to me. The whole time we chatted, my mind was racing. His lips were moving, and my head was nodding, but I barely picked up anything from whatever we talked about.
Earlier that morning, I had read another rejection email for a role I had applied for at school. To add salt (and iodine) to the morning rejection email, a day ago, I received another rejection from another top sports organization I admire. This was my second rejection from the same organization in a span of four years.
I debated with my mind, “Should I read this email and get over it, or should I wait to read it when I am in a secluded space?”
The curious cat in me won. I excused myself from my acquaintance and walked to the far end of the court to read the email.
“… unfortunately, we received so many impressive applications, with yours as one of them.”
I stopped breathing. I didn’t stop breathing intentionally, but my breath felt suffocated. Three rejection letters in one week! Have you watched movies where the actor or actress is hit with something on the head and then they are shown as if they are listening to muffled sounds and seeing blurry people? The gym was filled with students, but I felt like a strong wind was blowing me in a direction I didn’t know. In fact, I think it’s at this time that my soul left my body.
“I am picking up my car,” a message notification popped up from the friend who was offering me a ride. I wanted to tell them to cancel, but also, as an international student who is surviving on a fixed budget and lives on the mercy of the goodwill of other people, I stood firm and decided to go on with the grocery shopping.
Throughout the ride, I badly wanted to vent, but I didn’t want to vent. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t want to cry. I don’t know how long I spent in Walmart, but I bought candy for my friend to soothe her soul in case my absence in the present moment was irritating her.
The words on my mind were, “Three rejections in one week … am I any good for anything?” I honestly hated my entire being that evening. I tried watching a classic comedy movie, but even my laughter felt forced.
I looked at my friend Joan, “Don’t worry, rejections are part of life.” I consoled her with the very statement I would have hated to hear. “But how are we expected to grow when we are rejected this much?”
We had a conversation about how we felt about the situation. Laughed at the end of it because “Life moves on and we still have to keep trying!”
Interestingly, this exact topic came up last week with two of my friends, one in Russia and the other in Uganda. Let’s call them Irene and Joseph, respectively. Irene statused, “This NO hurt this time.” I reached out, and we had a similar conversation about rejections. During the conversation, she said, “Maybe the more rejection letters I receive, the more I get used to rejection.”
I laughed. I told her about something most people don’t know about me. I had no offer for university (local and international) after senior six. I was among the worst performers at my school. More so, I attended one of the best schools in the country. I think that was my first experience of depression and stress. What killed me most was the 60 rejection letters I read from universities and colleges in the USA. You read that right. 60 REJECTION LETTERS. If the theory that the more we get rejected, the more we get used to rejection is correct, I shouldn’t even have any emotions for rejection at this point in my life.
Back to Joseph. He had statused, “Rejection is redirection. Take lessons, keep moving.” I had another conversation with him about the topic. He asked, “What does moving on from rejection mean to you?”
It was a great question that I had chatted with my mentor about when I had reached out while nursing pain from the rejection pains I had received in a short period of time. I replied, “Moving on looks like knocking more on those doors. They said no once, but they won’t say no forever. Knocking at the door can look different ways. Sometimes you can do your own thing, and they notice you and seek you out. Sometimes you can continue to knock directly at their door, but through building a network to play the nepotism card (unspoken truths: it’s not about what you know but who you know). And sometimes moving on is letting that ship sail. Accept that we didn’t get what we wanted and appreciate what we have.”
This takes me back to my opening statement, where, as kids, we were quick to speak out of ignorance about people’s situations. In a world where we react differently to situations, it’s crazy to think about the rejections that may have pushed someone with a Master’s degree to settle for less (based on our expectations). Or in situations where one doesn’t have “godfathers” or “godmothers” or “money to slip under the table,” and they end up walking from office to office till the soles of their shoes become as thin as a sheet of paper.
It takes heart, courage, and a certain level of confidence (gumite) to take in all these rejections we are faced with as we try to grow and still show up. The job market can be honestly disheartening, whether seeking an internship or a full-time role, but kudos to those who have soared through. And of course, to those who chose a different path, your courage is very admirable. It takes courage to stall your professional career journey and pursue other endeavors
WHILE YOU ARE HERE
Want to read more stories like this? Kindly subscribe to my blog. Big Foot Athletes is diversifying its content beyond the sports field to share lived experiences. Sports and charity will remain central to the blog’s content, but awareness and lifestyle have joined the conversation.
My book, Once I Arrived, will be out this year. It’s time you got lost in a book that tells you about the way of life in Uganda and in the USA through stories. I am excited about getting this book to your shelf.
