Day 50 - Talk Dirty to Me

I must be in a ginger in Mayberry answering to the name of Opie Cunningham because every damn rejection letter I get is so sanitized it is practically useless. Seriously. You have to read them three times before you realize why they were sent. And they smell (even the e-mails) faintly of Lysol.

Give me rudeness. Give me directness. Even give me childish (as in evil runts on the playground taunting the girl with the big feet or the boy with  first and last names that rhyme.) Here are some excerpts from my proposed rejection letters:

• You smelled funny.
• Were you hitting on Mr. Jenks during the interview? We looked at the video and the jury's out. And so are you.
• Frankly, you gave us the creeps.
• Yeah, you just would not fit in with our crowd.
• Nice skills. But not enough.
• You really shouldn't have said that crap about work/life balance.
• You're waaaaay too smart and motivated. You'll make the others look bad.
• We kind of get off on making our interviewees prance about. And we love all the free consulting you did for us in the process.  We'll use that sh*t. But, you never even had a shot. No hard feelings, eh?
• Oh yeah. Earl from accounting wanted that position. He's never done PR but we'll give him a shot. I mean, how hard can it be?

When that day comes and I get that rejection letter - that beautiful, beautiful rejection letter that embraces the spirit of brutal honesty - then I'll know that our race has evolved into a higher state of being.