On Being Rejected for the 37th Time
It was my second interview over video chat, poor connection muffling voices and enveloping me in anxiety. It was my fifth interview where I had to strip down to underwear. And it was my 37th rejection. My third major rejection in two months.
“Unfortunately we couldn’t get the whole team on board to move forward with representation. I hope we can work together in the future.”
“Wilhelmina” had been the password on my laptop for four years. A laptop I emptied out and sold no less than three days ago, it’s password was a constant reminder of my pipe dream: a major modeling contract with Wilhelmina Models. Imagine my surprise when I received an e-mail expressing interest and I said — OUT LOUD — “get the f*ck out of here”. And I meant it. I had quit modeling. I didn’t want to go through this anymore. And like a bad boyfriend, it drew me back in. “I’ll be enough for you this time, industry. I promise I’ll be enough.”
I whittled the inches off, had the sun highlight my hair (JK — it was bleach), and exposed myself to UV poison in an effort to brown my Irish-Italian skin appropriately for a Miami modeling office.
I hustled. Quietly.
I cried walking home from a local restaurant. Loudly. And ducked into a music store to wait for a ride. Because my brother had made me feel like I was a loser at dinner for being in Anchorage and seemingly doing nothing. Didn’t he know I shared the same sentiment with myself that same morning?!
I wasn’t a loser. I worked hard. I worked tirelessly. And I’d show him!
And this morning, I was rejected. “Unfortunately we couldn’t get the whole team on board…” Blah, blah, blah.
Tears seemed to stream down without effort, prompting me to say, “I KNEW I WASN’T DEHYDRATED ENOUGH.” And maybe I wasn’t, but who gives a shit?
Eight eyeballs undressed me, marching me sideways, hair up, hair down. Elephant man. Elephant me. I AM NOT AN ANIMAL. But I felt like a cow.
I read David Copperfield the other day. Do you know what he became? A dad. Do you know what Odysseus did? He went home. Do you know what Gilgamesh did? He stopped being an asshole. And they were all confused because they were called “heroes” when they were just trying to find their own meaning.
And look, I’ve done this for a while. I can weather a rejection. I can weather 37. I’m pretty sure I could do it again.
We’re all just trying to be heard in our little pieces of the universe. Screaming out to say, I am here and I have a voice, and dammit, listen to me!
I found myself identifying with David Copperfield and reading Dickens seemed aptly timed if for nothing but this quote: “My meaning simply is, that whatever I have tried to do in life, I have tried with all my heart to do well; that whatever I have devoted myself to, I have devoted myself to completely; that in great aims and in small, I have always been thoroughly in earnest.”
And I have tried. And I have done well. And I have been earnest.
And Dad, if you’re reading this, I am the hero of my own life. And my pages will show.
Because on my new computer, the one I use to write, my password is “billions”. Maybe it’s a pipe dream. Maybe not. But bring it on.
