Another hiring season has come and gone this year, with job applicants reading more than their fair share of “We regret to inform you” notices. Believe it or not, many candidates actually read those letters from start to finish. Perhaps we have a masochistic streak or simply want to see a glimmer of humanity in an often anonymous process.
The search committees and their letter writers have a hard job, of course. They have to sift through 200 or more applications, coordinate hectic schedules, interview candidates through multiple stages, and orchestrate campus visits — all while continuing their normal teaching and research load. Then, at the end of the hiring process, they have to deliver bad news to a lot of people.
On the other side of the table, job seekers have published and taught to the best of our abilities. We’ve done our homework on countless departments and crafted applications for each opening. The process can feel isolating and alienating, especially since it may never lead to the job we have spent years training for.
All that rejection stings. But there are ways to treat recipients of bad news with kindness — to emphasize the person at the end of the letter and not simply the status update. A focus on audience, as I teach my own writing students, is always key.
In general, rejection letters follow several conventional patterns. They greet the applicant, thank the person for applying, express the difficulty of the hiring process, inform the candidate that he or she is no longer under consideration, announce the successful hire, offer consolation, and extend good wishes for the future.
How do I know? I’ve received my share of rejection letters. Reading through 30 of them for this column, I noticed that even the most mundane rhetorical move can be off-putting to an applicant.
By drawing on direct quotes from my own rejection letters, I offer this list of suggestions for how departments can phrase those sentiments more empathetically and productively.
Greet us by title, not by gender. If candidates are applying for a faculty position, it is safe to assume that the majority have or will soon have Ph.D.s. Greeting them as “Dr.” recognizes that earned honor. Using “Mr.” or “Ms.” does not, and requires departments to make problematic assumptions about gender-ambiguous names and gender-nonconforming people. Another good option, when candidates have been personally interviewed, is to use their first names to acknowledge that new level of acquaintance (and avoid the gender issue).
Don’t focus on the opportunity we lost; focus on what we offered. One of my rejection letters said, “The faculty has determined that we will not be able to offer you the opportunity of an interview at this time.” Emphasizing the “opportunity” felt like salt in the wound. In contrast, many kinder letters I’ve received described the search committee’s pleasure in reviewing the work of so many well-qualified and bright applications. Here are two examples:
- “I would like to add that we appreciated very much the opportunity to review your materials. That we received so many terrific applications testifies to the vibrant and expanding nature of this field.”
- “My colleagues and I are pleased to have had this opportunity to review your credentials.”
Focus on the hire, not the rejection. Rejection letters most frequently go wrong when telling candidates that their applications are no longer under consideration. Here are some of the colder ways I have heard that news:
- “I regret to inform you that we have removed your name from further consideration for this position.”
- “I am writing to inform you that we have closed your application file.”
- “Our hiring committee has decided not to entertain your application further.”
The imagery conveyed by the wording — closing my file, removing my name, no longer entertaining my application — is needlessly negative and curt. In fact, departments don’t have to tell us we’ve been cut from the process. Just make clear that someone else got the position. That wording, too, requires finesse.
Focus on the position, not on the lucky duck who filled it. In some letters I’ve received, departments found quick and relatively painless ways to tell me the position had been filled:
- “It has taken the search committee some time to carefully evaluate each application, but we have now filled the position.”
- “Please forgive the informality of this letter, but this position has now been filled.”
Other committees, however, say more than is needed. Some use the letter to flatter the chosen hire, which is odd, since that person is the only member of the candidate pool who will not actually read the rejection letter. Other letters talk in excruciating detail about the hiring process. Here are examples of both:
- “Our choice was a difficult one. However, we have now been able to hire an outstanding candidate who seems like a good fit for our department.”
- “The search committee received a number of applications for the position, and after extensive considerations, one candidate has been recommended to the university administration for appointment to the position, and that recommendation has been approved. The position has been accepted by that candidate.”
The self-congratulatory sentiment, while understandable for a committee making a successful hire, is misplaced in a rejection letter. It does not align with the needs of the audience.
Thank us sincerely. Candidates dedicate substantial time to the job search: crafting applications for the specifics of a position announcement, conducting preliminary research on a department, often completing lengthy HR forms. Being on the market, my graduate-school friends used to joke, is a full-time job. A little understanding of the amount of time, energy, and money that candidates dedicate to this process would go a long way toward making it less stressful. Some departments conveyed their appreciation nicely to me:
- “I would like to thank you for your interest in our position. I know from personal experience the energy it takes to apply for a faculty position, and I appreciate the time you put into this process.”
- “I would like to convey my deep appreciation to you for considering a position at State University.”
Note that both of those comments acknowledge the choice that I made to apply for the position, which is affirming in today’s competitive market, where Ph.D.s often feel that we have little control.
Acknowledge the unpleasant market, but don’t assume we’re heartbroken. Candidates often apply to a wide range of openings. The concept of a “dream job” varies for each scholar, so it can feel presumptuous when committees belabor the disappointment they think candidates will feel.
Consider the following two comments:
- “I realize that you will find this information disappointing.”
- “We understand that the job market is particularly difficult these days.”
The first addresses the candidate directly, claiming to know how “you” feel. As I tell my freshman composition classes, anytime writers use second person, they can irritate an audience member who doesn’t accept their version of things. The second comment more effectively recognizes a systemic problem without presuming anything about the applicant’s emotions.
Focus on the unique specifics of the job. In an overly saturated job market, many excellent scholars will end up without tenure-track positions. It can help to hear that a rejection results not from any personal shortcoming but rather from the department’s search for a specific “fit.” Consider:
- “I would like to add that in making these difficult decisions, we considered carefully the specific needs of our program. This meant that we had to pass over many qualified applicants who would have duplicated the existing strengths of our faculty.”
- “Because several unique abilities and skills are required for the position, the appointment of another candidate should not be viewed as a negative evaluation of your qualifications. Notification of this sort is never easy, and during my career there have been times when I have either received or sent similar news. Neither is a pleasant experience.”
Both of those letters gave a reason for the rejection that focused on the institution, not on the rejected candidate.
Don’t let human resources do your dirty work. HR letters can be stingingly cold. One HR email alerted me: “Your application status has been changed to Not Interviewed, Not Hired.” In addition, rejection letters written by HR can arrive months after a department’s hire is made.
When search-committee members have spoken directly with the candidate, a personal note (even if it is actually a form letter) is preferable to one from HR.
Don’t delay in giving us the bad news. Departments should send out rejections as soon as they find out that an offer has been accepted, especially to second- and third-choice candidates who have been waiting to hear since their campus visits. Waiting is excruciating because you don’t know what your life will look like next year, and it can forestall plans for housing, travel, medical treatments, and teaching, among other things.
Moreover, when a committee waits too long, candidates often email to inquire about the status of the search. Protocol dictates that we reiterate our interest in the position. Saying flattering things to a department (again) just before they tell you no is a bit like the romantic-comedy cliché in which one person says, “I love you” just before the other party says, “I’ve fallen for someone else.”
These letters are never pleasant to send or to receive. There is no way to make this a painless process, of course, but as a rhetorician and instructor of writing, I know there are ways to make it less painful. It’s worth a bit of scholarly energy to get this right.
