"I WILL SURVIVE"

02.17.2026

No one really tells you how much of your life will be spent being rejected.

From the sidelines, I've watched today's parents feed a specific kind of shiny optimism to their children: “You can do anything you want!”

It’s a lovely thought, and a significant shift from the expectations - or lack thereof - of my generation, but it doesn't come with a roadmap for the near-misses. We aren’t taught how to process falling short, especially in a society that tends to frame even the extraordinary accomplishments of an Olympic silver medalist as being the "first one to lose."

The reality is that rejection is a lifelong companion, constantly lurking in the corners of our lives. We can never seem to sweep it away entirely, regardless of how much we try.

It’s the job application that goes nowhere, the friendship that quietly fades into a ghost of itself, or the heartbreak of a romance that leaves you dusting off your psyche and asking yourself, "Now what?"

For those of us with a background in theatre, we’ve developed a thick layer of scar tissue; when the rejection rate is 98%, "no" becomes the air you breathe. So, you’d think by the time you reach retirement, you’d be done with the "audition" phase of life altogether - or at least be significantly desensitized by its sting.

Turns out, that's not the case.

This winter has been gray, cold, long and tiresome. Feeling trapped inside my house by its relentless grip, I decided to look for a part-time job—something to get me out of the house one or two days a week. The search turned out to be a surreal trip down an even grayer, colder, longer and more tiresome rabbit hole.

I navigated on-the-spot offers which I politely declined, dodged scam artists looking for my bank details, and sat through AI-generated interviews that felt more like an episode of Star Trek - Next Gen than a conversation with a human (to be clear, the only human in the interview was me).

Eventually, I found what seemed like a perfect match: a part-time sales position at a bookstore.

I walked into the process with both an undergraduate degree and graduate degree and decades of experience in marketing and communications. As an author, essayist and corporate professional, I’ve spent my life curating words. I know how to talk about books; I know the weight of a hardcover and the specific magic of a well-placed recommendation.

Yet the process was surprisingly grueling. They wanted near-expert knowledge for a wage that barely cleared the minimum. I went through multiple rounds of interviews, only to receive that familiar, sterilized email: “We’re moving in a different direction.”

That phrase, so deceptively gentle, is designed to soften the blow, but quite frankly, it doesn't.

As I sat there, the "why" of it started to itch. Was it a tech glitch during the Microsoft Teams interview? Was it the sight of my gray hair on the webcam? Or was I "overqualified"—that polite corporate code for "you’ve lived too much life to be easily managed"? There’s a sharp, almost comedic irony in having a career’s worth of marketing expertise and still being told you aren't the right "fit" to sell the very things you spend your days writing.

But then, I looked at my calendar.

Spring will be here (eventually), and I have two mini-vacations on the horizon—trips that require zero "managerial approval" for time off. If I had landed that gig, I’d be trading my piano practice for a shift schedule and my blog for a branded lanyard.

I realized then that the "silver lining" wasn't some cookie-cutter lesson in building character. It was much simpler.

In retirement, rejection isn't a closed door; it’s a regained afternoon. Every "no" from a hiring manager is a "yes" to the freedom I've spent decades earning. I don’t need a corporate nod of approval to spend my day writing, practicing, or traveling.

Maybe the secret isn’t learning to carry rejection gracefully. Maybe it’s realizing that when the world tells you it’s moving in a different direction, you’re finally free to do the same—only this time, you're the one leading the way.

AI generated image, although the rejection was real.