Dash your hopes before you even have them!
by Mark Harmon
It happened years ago, but still rankles. I'd applied to the Journalist in Residence program at the Thurber House in Columbus, Ohio. Months later I received a post card rejecting me for another program, Writer in Residence. Naturally, I responded with a Thurberesque letter (even including a dog drawing) explaining that rejection letters were tough enough without the prospect of unsolicited ones.
Unfortunately, those in charge failed to appreciate the irony, bringing into question their mandate to carry forward the tradition of one of America's greatest humorists. Instead, I received a perfunctory note that the program used the same card for both programs. Too bad. Still the broader question lingers. So, dear reader and even Thurber House administrators, let's read a sample of what could happen with unsolicited rejection letters:
Dear Parent,
Your son is flunking algebra, hanging out with hoodlums, and writing term papers directly from the encyclopedia. Don't ask how we know these things. At Yale we just do. So, unless you are a Skull and Bones alumnus or have solid prep school blue blood, we recommend you consider a nearby school with little or no admission requirements. Please do not bother any Ivy League school with an application. Furthermore, you may want to examine what your son is growing behind the shed. Start thinking community college.
Cordially not yours, Yale Admissions
Dear Author,
We haven't heard from you in several months, and for that we want to thank you. The last plot line was so sophomoric that the only things keeping our attention were the mangled syntax and poor grammar. Save the postage; skip the next one.
The New Yorker
Dear Job Applicant,
You are just the kind of inventive, energetic new hire we need here at MegaCorp. Unfortunately, we've had to lay off half of Schenectady just to pay the executive bonuses and golden parachutes for your lame predecessors. Unless you want to wallpaper your den with pets.com stock options, don't count on us.
Sincerely uninterested, Personnel Director
Dear Funny Looking Guy Whose Name I Can't Remember,
Thanks for not passing me any love poems in English class. This saved me the requisite rolling of the eyes and giggling with my friends. (Things I'm now free to do about the wardrobes of others). Your instinct is right that I'm faking vacuousness so as not to offend potential football player dates. I'm not, however, likely to change soon, except perhaps when I get to college and seek out tormented, drug-addled musicians. Keep up the good non-writing, and don't even think prom.
Amber
P.S. The same for Brittany, Heather, and the rest of the cheerleaders.
Dear Frank,
You'll note this is a plain post card and not a Christmas card. Quite frankly, I've been getting your elaborate cards for three years now, and I have no idea who you are. The picture of the kids was cute. You are thinking orthodonture, right? The form letter with news of family and neighbors now has me worrying I'll be getting cards from them as well.
Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, Festive Kwanzaa (circle as appropriate)
Dear Occupant,
You are NOT invited to apply for our low introductory 2.3 percent platinum card.
The duct tape repairs on your mobile home sealed the non-deal for us. The good news is we've forwarded your name for non-acceptance letters from other firms as well.
First National/International Republic Credit GlobaBank
Mark Harmon teaches courses in broadcasting at the University of Tennessee in Knoxville.
August 30, 2001 * Vol. 11, No. 35
© 2001 Metro Pulse
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