—————–
ASK FOR A SECOND CHANCE – WHO KNOWS?
Have you ever been rejected?
We regret to inform you… After due consideration… At this time… As a result of the reorganization… Notwithstanding your excellent credentials… Unfortunately…
Or, not even the courtesy of a reply to your inquiry?
Usually, there’s nothing you can do about their decision. You can decide how you will react to it, but that’s a different topic for another day. Every once in a while, you’ve got a chance of getting someone to reverse course. Take your best shot. Talk to somebody!
If you’re lucky, someone signed their rejection missive and you know whom to call. Otherwise, put on your research hat. In this age of often non-existent personal Service Support where websites offer, “Hi, I’m Alice, your AI Assistant,” you might have to work hard to find a name and a phone number. That’s your initial test of perseverance! Google or AI, your seeming nemesis, can help find the elusive contact person and number.
However you identify a live human being to approach, you can expect that your target is being protected from people like you – who are so bothersome to their most efficient (effective?) digital process. Remember, your desire to talk with them is about something of potential value to both parties. Yes, I know they told you they didn’t need you working for them, but they didn’t yet know what you really have to offer – including persistence. You’re simply trying to arrange for two people to have a personal conversation, outside their bunkered process, that might yield them gold. That should be worth a chat to them.
Make it personal. After all, you are a human being with a real story to share beyond the algorithm that sifted you out. Plus, you have self-respect and are worthy of deeper consideration – if the situation merits it.
I detail the following story in my book, The Pinball Theory of Business and Life, but this short version will make the point. As a high school student fond of all activities other than studying, the rejection letter from Indiana University was not surprising – but still devastating. After talking with my mother (who had urged me to study), I called Mrs. Robinson, the letter’s signer, and Director of Admissions. She pulled my file and, with a kindness I didn’t expect, said, “There was no mistake that would justify reconsideration, but you’re welcome to meet with me.” A meeting. A sliver of hope.
The night before my Saturday morning appointment, a snowstorm hit the Midwest. At 4 a.m., my mom, dad, younger brother, and I loaded into the car and drove off into the dark. By some miracle, we arrived at snow-covered Indiana University by 9 a.m. The Administration Building was dark. Locked, most likely. We spotted a faint light at the far end. Maybe someone was there.
I took a slow, deep breath and walked toward the lit office. Inside, a single desk lamp cast a warm glow. A middle-aged woman sat at the desk. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Mrs. Robinson.” She turned, smiled, and said, “Well, you must be Marty Snyder.” “Yes, ma’am.” “I’m Mrs. Robinson. I figured if a miracle happened and you made it, I better show up. You must really want to come to IU.” “I really do.”
I had a surprising conversation with Mrs. Robinson, explaining my real reason for wanting to attend IU – which I immediately regretted. She shocked me, “I think that’s a good reason to want to come to IU,” she said. “You’re accepted.”
Mrs. Robinson must have had hundreds of conversations like that one. For me, it was the conversation. I was a kid trying to get my shit together. She was an experienced and wise woman. In the moment of truth, I opened up to her and honestly explained why I was set on attending IU. We had a very personal exchange. She heard me. She gave me a chance.
But for that snowstorm, would I have been in the Army instead of IU? I don’t know, but I do know that I had to pick up the phone and take my best shot. Notwithstanding the well-deserved rejection letter (one of thousands she must have signed in her long career), that person, that human being changed the trajectory of my life. As it turned out, I became the kind of student IU wanted to admit.
IU is a large university. I don’t know how many 1000s of freshmen were admitted that year. I don’t know how many 1000s were rejected, but I bet not many of them called Mrs. Robinson. My back story wasn’t so compelling; it was quite ordinary. Besides the snowstorm, I think simply asking to meet in person made the difference. What I said had less to do with her decision than my desire and determination.
Asking for a Second Chance – Who Knows? applies beyond rejections. We’ve all had experiences where we’ve given or have been given a second chance. It can happen in all kinds of situations and arenas. It boils down to this: Are circumstances such that there’s a valid reason to rethink a decision?
The Second Chance Rule requires us to be as forthcoming when approached as when we seek indulgence from others. If we set aside our processes and algorithms when a situation merits it, I suspect some good will come out of it for everyone. Who knows? Pick up the phone and give it a shot.
As we say in Russia – Udachi, good luck!
