On Job Interviews, Rejection Letters, and Apparently Losing My Case
Setting: August 2026 — Receiving the court's decision via USPS
A couple months ago while I was job hunting, I applied for an administrative position with a school.
I interviewed. Then they called me back for a second interview. I had made it to the final round.
By the time the rejection letter arrived in my mailbox, though, I had already started a new job... so I wasn’t particularly invested in the outcome anymore. There was no dramatic disappointment. No staring wistfully out a window wondering what might have been.
I opened the envelope mostly out of curiosity.
And that’s when my routine job rejection apparently became a legal matter.
The letter started normally enough. They thanked me for my interest. They explained that after the interview process, they had selected another candidate who better met their needs. Fair enough.
Then came this:
“I regret to inform you that a decision was not made in your favor.”
I read it again.
A decision was not made in my favor.
Hadn’t you… just informed me of that in the previous sentence?
Also, why did this suddenly sound less like a job rejection and more like I had been awaiting the outcome of a legal proceeding?
This was a simple administrative job at a school.
I kept reading.
“Please be assured that your application for employment was given every possible consideration.”
Every.
Possible.
Consideration.
Not careful consideration. Not serious consideration.
Every possible consideration.
Apparently, no stone had been left unturned. Every avenue had been explored. All evidence had been entered into the record.
And still, regrettably, the decision had not been made in my favor.
Then I looked at the signature.
Esq.
The person who wrote the letter was a lawyer.
Of course she was.
Suddenly, the formal ruling made sense. The decision had been rendered. It was not in my favor. And, apparently, every possible consideration had been exhausted before reaching this conclusion.
I hadn’t been rejected from a job.
I’d lost my case.
This post is part of my One-Minute Memoir series — short reflections on small moments that still manage to say something big.
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