by Jia Jiang
BRETTON: “Excuse me?”
JACOB: “The amount of money you would need to be able to walk away from it all and just live happily ever after. See, I find that everyone has a number and it’s usually an exact number, so what is yours?”
BRETTON, WITH A RUTHLESS SMILE, REPLIES: “More.”
Through my rejection experiments, I began to realize that I could often get a yes simply by talking to enough people. Obviously, not every rejection attempt would ultimately yield a yes, especially some of the wackier ones. But I was surprised by how many times my persistence paid off—like it had with the apple experiment, and with my attempt to land a one-day-only office job. It made me wonder: Do rejections also have a “number”? If you ask enough people for something enough times, will you eventually find someone to say yes?
When it comes to persistence, one group of people who are constantly coming up against rejection are people who work in creative fields. EJ, a fiction author, e-mailed me with a rejection challenge:
“I’m an author and I would love to work with you on the next Rejection Therapy video,” she wrote. “I see writers get rejected every day; most writers carry tons of rejections and never get accepted by these big intimidating publishing houses. I think it would send quite a message, and probably go viral in the extremely large literary community, to walk up to the publishers, in their building and onto their executive floor, hand these guys a manuscript, and ask them, ‘Can you publish my book?’ ”
While that experiment never came to fruition, EJ’s letter did make me think more about the life of a writer. I wondered how many times famous authors had been rejected by publishers before one of them finally accepted their first book.
When I actually looked into it, the numbers were astonishing:
• Lord of the Flies by William Golding: 20
• The Diary of a Young Girl by Anne Frank: 15
• Carrie by Stephen King: 30
• Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert M. Pirsig: 121 (a record in the Guinness Book of World Records)
• Dubliners by James Joyce: 22
• The Help by Kathryn Stockett: 60
• Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone by J. K. Rowling: 12
• The Cuckoo’s Calling (J. K. Rowling using the pseudonym Robert Galbraith): at least one confirmed, allegedly many more
It wasn’t just the numbers, either; some of the feedback these authors received from the rejecting publishers was extremely harsh:
“The girl doesn’t, it seems to me, have a special perception or feeling which could lift that book above the ‘curiosity’ level.”—on Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl
“An absurd and uninteresting fantasy which was rubbish and dull.”—on Lord of the Flies
“We are not interested in science fiction which deals with negative utopias. They do not sell.”—on Carrie
“It’s far too long for children”—on Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone
J. K. Rowling’s rejections are especially fascinating. In 1995, she submitted her first Harry Potter manuscript to twelve British publishers and was rejected by all of them. Then the head of one publisher, Bloomsbury, handed the manuscript to her granddaughter, who couldn’t put it down until she finished reading the entire thing. Bloomsbury finally gave Harry Potter the green light a year later. Had the little girl not loved the story, Harry Potter might have landed in the shredder, and his epic battle with You-Know-Who would have never happened.
More than a decade later, Harry Potter sold over 100 million copies and became one of the top ten bestselling books in history. J. K. Rowling sent out the manuscript of her new book, The Cuckoo’s Calling, to publishers under a pseudonym because she wanted her work to stand on its own merit rather than on her fame. The editor who read and rejected the book, which would also become a bestseller, had said it was “quiet” and “didn’t stand out.”
All these rejections have now become jokes and inspirational tales because of how successful the books and authors went on to be. But I suspect that every no these authors received discouraged—maybe even devastated—them. It’s hard not to wonder how many would-be masterpieces have never seen the light of day because the creators were so discouraged by the rejections and negative opinions and stopped trying.
All these authors—many of whom are now considered to be the greatest talents of their days—had to push beyond dozens of rejections until they found the right person who agreed to publish their work. It’s as if becoming a master of a craft requires not just great skills, but also the ability to weather rejections to get to an acceptance—not to mention an unfailing belief in themselves and their own work.
No matter how good or bad the work is, there is no mathematical way for everyone in the world to accept or reject it. But if acceptance is the only thing a person strives for, all she or he needs to do is to talk to enough people. Odds are that someone will eventually say yes.
Of course, not all acceptances are created equal. Not every book idea will lead to a giant bestselling franchise the way that J. K. Rowling’s did; there is good and bad, after all. However, thinking about all those authors who had believed so much in their work that they kept trying to find a publisher after so many painful rejections made me realize how important it was to believe in what I was doing. Rejection is human, is an opinion, and has a number. If I viewed other people’s opinions as the main judgment of merit—which is what I was doing when I took every rejection to heart—then my life would be a miserable mess. I’d be basing my self-worth, and even the course of my life, on the whims and judgments of other people.
All these years, rejection had scared me like Goliath. It stopped me from pursuing my dreams for over a decade. It sometimes stopped me from reaching out or even saying “hi” to others for fear of rejection and judgment. But now that I was studying Goliath, and seeing him with new eyes, it felt as if I might have him cornered. Without the fog of pain and fear, rejection wasn’t the Goliath that I’d thought it was. Instead, it was more like the Wizard of Oz. It didn’t have to be my enemy—if I didn’t let it scare me to death.
LESSONS
1. Rejection Is Human: Rejection is a human interaction with two sides. It often says more about the rejector than the rejectee, and should never be used as the universal truth and sole judgment of merit.
2. Rejection Is an Opinion: Rejection is an opinion of the rejector. It is heavily influenced by historical context, cultural differences, and psychological factors. There is no universal rejection or acceptance.
3. Rejection Has a Number: Every rejection has a number. If the rejectee goes through enough rejections, a no could turn into a yes.
CHAPTER 6
TAKING A NO
At about the halfway point of my 100 days, my fear of rejection was transforming into something more like curiosity. This shift in perspective opened the door for me to start experimenting with rejection even more. I wanted to poke and study rejection from different sides. And the first thing I wanted to explore was finding out what could happen after I received a no.
In the past, I’d always figured that the best way to minimize the pain of rejection was to get it over with as soon as possible—sort of like ripping a bandage off in one motion versus peeling it off slowly and prolonging the agony. In most cases, I would run away—sometimes literally—after hearing a no, ending the conversation as quickly as possible.
Now, I wanted to see what would happen if instead of fleeing the scene of a rejection, I would stick around to find out what would happen next. Little did I know how much I would learn by simply not running away.
ASK “WHY” BEFORE GOOD-BYE
100 DAYS OF REJECTION: PLANTING A FLOWER IN SOMEONE’S YARD
After I’d posted the video of playing soccer in Scott the football fan’s backyard, people started asking me to knock on more strangers’ doors for various things—everything from borrowing a cup of sugar to asking to spend the night in their house. Am
id all the creative suggestions, one in particular caught my eye: asking permission to plant a flower in someone’s yard. I loved the idea because (1) it was strange enough to almost guarantee a no and (2) if I did happen to get a yes, I’d be contributing to the beauty of someone’s landscaping.
After buying a peach-colored, ready-to-plant Double Delight rosebush, I started driving around Austin looking for a good house to approach. The last time I found myself driving around looking for a door to knock on, I was extremely nervous. But I’d become a rejection veteran by this time. I picked a house, walked up to the door, and just knocked. The life-and-death feeling I had back when I’d approached Scott’s house was almost nonexistent now.
This time, a white-haired man answered the door. He immediately eyed the rosebush in my hands—it was hard to miss. He probably assumed I was a salesman, because he didn’t look eager for conversation. Then I explained that I wanted to plant the rosebush in his yard, free of charge. He raised an eyebrow and gave a slight smile.
“OK, that’s more interesting than I thought,” he admitted, almost sheepishly. “Thank you, but no.”
This was the moment—my chance to see what happens after a no. As he was about to close the door, I said, “No problem. But may I ask why?”
“Well, I don’t like flowers in my yard,” he explained. “My dog would dig them up and destroy them. I appreciate you doing this, but you’ve got the wrong guy.”
He looked at the rosebush again. “I like you giving out these flowers,” he said. “If you go across the street and ask Lauren, she might want it. She loves flowers.”
This was an unexpected turn of events. I said “thank you” and went across the street. Armed with this new information, and feeling a surge of both confidence and excitement, I ventured toward Lauren’s house. I caught her and her husband just as they were about to leave. After hearing my offer and conferring with her husband, she agreed to let me plant the Double Delight in their yard.
“I love peach roses,” Lauren gushed, genuinely thrilled at the new addition to her yard.
The rosebush that I planted, with its straight stem and two angled branches, resembled the letter Y. It was almost a literal reminder of the power of asking “why” after getting rejected. By engaging in conversation with the man, I learned two very valuable things:
1. The man rejected me not because he didn’t trust me or thought I was weird. He appreciated my offer, but it didn’t fit his situation.
2. He gave me a lead to another person who he knew might be much more open to my gift.
In my first-ever rejection attempt, I had asked my office building’s security guard if I could borrow $100. After saying “No,” he’d asked me a question: “Why?” Feeling scared and embarrassed, I bolted without explaining myself. But ever since then I hadn’t been able to get his response out of my head.
When Scott, the avid Cowboys fan, let me play soccer in his backyard, I’d asked him why he agreed to my request. He said it was so “off the wall” that he couldn’t turn me down. Learning the reason he’d felt compelled to say yes gave me insight into Scott and his decision. But it happened only because of the word why.
Asking the white-haired man why he didn’t want a rosebush in his yard had produced a different kind of result: an explanation and a referral. He might have turned me down, but he had given me a lead that converted into a yes.
Asking why tended to clear up any misunderstanding on my part about the other person’s motivations. In the past, when I was rejected, I had automatically assumed that I’d done something wrong. But by spending a little more time with the man who initially turned me down, I’d discovered that what I was offering simply didn’t fit his situation. There was nothing personal about it; he didn’t want a rosebush, not just from me but from anybody. And I didn’t think he was giving me a fake reason just to get me off his porch; otherwise, he wouldn’t have recommended that I talk to his flower-loving neighbor.
There is a reason behind every decision that people make, whether it’s logical and well thought out or emotional and spur of the moment. Knowing the reason behind a rejection can help dissipate, or even dissolve, any of the pain one might feel otherwise. Many of the people who rejected me did so not because of the merit of my request, or because of anything about me, but for a completely different reason—sometimes one that was easily addressable. Once I understood that, I realized I was able to cope with the rejection much more easily. I even learned to use rejections as learning experiences to make my requests even better the next time.
There’s only an upside to asking “why.” After all, you have been rejected already. And the insight you might glean from the response you get could prove valuable. Indeed, asking “why” can even be a tool for turning a rejection into an acceptance.
RETREAT, DON’T RUN
100 DAYS OF REJECTION: MCDONALD’S CHALLENGE (GETTING AFTERNOON MCGRIDDLES)
As the 100 Days project went on, I started getting more suggestions from people daring me to try all kinds of things. One day, a follower dared me to march into a local McDonald’s in the middle of the afternoon and ask them to make me a McGriddles sandwich, a breakfast item that they only offer in the morning. He felt confident that I would be “100% rejected” because it is “impossible” for McDonald’s to make breakfast items after 12 P.M.
It was 2 P.M. when I asked the McDonald’s clerk for a McGriddles sandwich. As expected, I got a very quick no. After I asked her why, she explained that they’d already cleaned the machine that makes the eggs and the sausage. So I switched tactics.
“Do you have something like a McGriddles?” I asked. That piqued the clerk’s interest. She said she could make me a “plain McGriddles”—which turned out to be a honey roasted griddle cake with cheese on it. I went for it. Taking my sandwich to a table, I turned my iPhone around to record myself and claim victory over the fan’s “impossible” challenge. The sandwich wasn’t as good without the eggs and the sausage. But I ate the whole thing anyway, and it was really not bad.
—
The McDonald’s challenge started out as something a bit silly, but it ended up coughing up another important lesson. I had tried a negotiation tactic that would turn out to be another important weapon in my arsenal. Instead of setting my goals on only the specific thing that I’d gone in asking for, I reassessed my original request and asked for something less—in this case, something “like a McGriddles.” The clerk recognized my concession and met me halfway by offering a solution.
In military warfare, there is a crucial distinction between a retreat and a rout. Retreats are usually temporary. Troops retreat in order to regroup, consolidate their forces, or shift to a better tactical position. A rout, on the other hand, is a total collapse of troops’ fighting ability and morale. In a rout, the losing troops often drop their weapons and run for their lives. The defenseless fleeing soldiers have their backs turned to the enemy, making them vulnerable targets. Many times it is during routs that the most casualties have occurred.
For people who are afraid of or anxious about rejection, asking for things can feel like a mini-battlefield. When you are already so uncomfortable making the request, it can be hard to judge whether you should keep going or get the hell out of there after a no. I had found (1) that if I kept insisting on getting what I wanted regardless of what the other person said, the other person would get annoyed and shut me down cold, and (2) that if I turned and fled, I would create a rout of my own making. In both situations, I would leave without getting what I wanted or needed, and I would leave myself vulnerable not just to the judgment of others but to the assumptions and to the demoralizing stories that I would tell myself about the encounter. The biggest casualty in those “battles” was not the rejection but my resulting loss of confidence.
The McGriddles moment taught me that there was a powerful third way—retreating, reassessing, and trying a new approach. If I could adjust my request and approach the “ask” from a different angle, something
interesting and unexpected might happen—and it often did. For one rejection attempt, I tried to get a free room at a luxury hotel and was turned down flat. But after retreating to a lesser request, I wound up getting a tour of one of the hotel’s rooms and was allowed to take a nap on one of the hotel’s famously comfortable beds. During another rejection attempt, I walked into a local fire station and asked if I could slide down their fire pole. As it happened, the building had only one story, and there was no fire pole. So I again retreated to a lesser request—and soon found myself on a tour of the fire station, with the firefighter on duty as my personal tour guide. He even offered to let me ride on their fire truck.
In his classic book on psychology and communication, Influence, Robert Cialdini explains the effectiveness of making a concession and retreating to a lesser request after an initial rejection. He argues that because most people don’t want to feel like jerks, they are much less likely to say no the second time to the requester after the requester makes a concession. That’s why successful negotiations that result in win-win situations are usually the results of give-and-take rather than both parties digging in and refusing to compromise.
Asking why can open up a whole new channel of understanding and possibility between a requester and a requestee. But so can retreating to ask, “If you can’t do this, can you do something else?” In asking these questions again and again, it became obvious to me that there is often a lot more room to maneuver around a no than I’d ever realized. Every no is actually surrounded by a whole bunch of interesting but invisible yeses that it was up to me to uncover.
If you get turned down for a job, one option is to flee—but another option is to ask for recommendations for other positions based on your qualifications. If someone shoots down your sales pitch, you could ask for a referral to another department or client. By having a position to retreat to—and keeping an open mind—you can often avoid being routed by rejection.