Rejection statements tend to fall into the following categories: Fitīy far the most popular sentiment utilized in rejection emails is the nebulous specter of 'fit,' the be-all-end-all to hiring decisions worldwide. When you scrub away the bromides of thanking the applicant for her resume, explaining how impressed the company is with her experience, and promising to be in touch should another job come up (I've never, ever received such follow-up in 20yrs of jobs), there's typically just one sentence laying out the cold, hard truth: you've been rejected. To find out I collected the action statements from the last batch of rejection emails I've received over time. There's typically just one sentence laying out the cold, hard truth: you've been rejected Who calls to give a rejection? It felt against protocol, and cruel somehow, even though I loved the woman and her genuine sympathy.īut was a call against protocol? What's the alternative? Is a form email after weeks (or in some cases, months) better than a personalized rejection? And if so, does the actual language within make any difference on how crummy it feels to be rejected? Surprisingly, though, when I called her I was informed that 'unfortunately' my application was no longer being considered. Even better, I'd get to make arrangements on the phone. Instead it was the HR recruiter asking me to call her.

I looked at the unopened voicemail like a gift that I was waiting all afternoon to unwrap.Įventually I got a coffee, got comfy, and listened to the inevitable good news. It was from a company I had been interviewing with for several weeks, and I was expecting either a rejection email or a phone call informing me of next steps moving forward. I received a call yesterday that I let go straight to voicemail.

We regret to inform you letter