Writing

May 2026

You didn’t get the job.

You didn’t get the job.

Maybe they told you why. Maybe they told you nothing at all. And if they did give you feedback, there’s a decent chance it was abstract nonsense.

“Too Toronto.” “Didn’t align with the culture.” “We went with someone who had an MBA.”

Some of it may be true. Little of it is useful. And yet there you are, treating it like a blueprint.

Rejection feedback is structurally compromised.

The person delivering it often has no real relationship with you, no accountability to you, and every incentive to soften the blow. So they give you something that sounds constructive because it’s safer than saying, “We just chose someone else.”

And you take it seriously. You internalize it. You start trying to fix a phantom problem.

A candidate gets told the successful candidate had an MBA. It wasn’t in the job description. It wasn’t a requirement. The person selected just happened to have one, so it became the explanation.

Now they’re wondering if they need to spend sixty thousand dollars and two years of their life solving a problem that was never theirs.

I’ve delivered feedback that was meant as context but landed like instruction. The candidate doesn’t hear, “This was one factor.” They hear, “This is why I failed.”

Those are not the same thing.

If you showed up prepared, present, and clear, the reason you didn’t get the job may have had very little to do with you. A different background. Better timing. Familiarity with the room.

That doesn’t mean you were deficient. It means they made a decision.

You hate that answer because there’s nothing to fix. No gap to close. No lesson to extract. But rejection is not a character flaw. It’s information.

Stop turning vague feedback into a personal development plan. Stop reverse-engineering silence. Stop treating corporate-safe language like gospel.

Ask better questions.

Was I prepared? Was I present? Did I represent myself clearly?

If the answer is yes, you did your job. Move on.

Rejection feels like a verdict. Most of the time, it’s a decision someone made on a Tuesday afternoon with incomplete information and competing priorities.

Don’t turn it into a diagnosis.

Originally posted to LinkedIn.
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