The Human Side of Rejection: What I Wish I Could Tell Every Candidate I Didn’t Pick

I have read hundreds of CVs, sat through countless interviews, and hit “send” on more rejection emails than I could count.

Every time I do, there’s a small ache I carry.

You probably wouldn’t expect that from someone on the hiring side. We are seen as gatekeepers — decisive, clinical, and detached. But here’s the truth: behind those emails and decisions is a person who feels deeply.

I remember you. Not just your qualifications, but your nervous smile, the way you lit up when you talked about your first project, or how your voice cracked a little when you said, “I just want a chance.” You may have walked away thinking you didn’t leave a mark. But you did.

Choosing One Means Letting Go of Many

The hardest part of my work isn’t shortlisting. It’s saying no.

Sometimes, I’ll close my laptop after an interview day and sit with the weight of knowing I’ll have to turn down people I believe in — not because they weren’t good, but because we only had one spot. One.

And in that one spot, a dozen variables are at play. Timing. Team composition. Project urgency. Stakeholder preferences. Soft skills that align with current needs.

Sometimes the decision isn't about who’s “better” — it’s about who fits right now.

But that nuance doesn’t make the “We regret to inform you…” email any easier to receive — or to send.

What You Never See After the Interview

There’s a moment, right after final selection, when silence fills the room. We pause.

Maybe someone says, “This was tough.” Someone else sighs. Another adds, “I wish we could take two.” It’s never as simple as picking a winner and moving on.

I carry your stories. I think about the single mother who’s self-taught, juggling code and kids. The shy genius who doubted himself but showed up anyway. The young woman who built an app to help her community access clean water and mental health services.

I carry your resilience. And I never forget it.

The Truth Behind Rejection

I wish I could sit down with every candidate I didn’t pick and say:

You were good. Sometimes brilliant. This just wasn’t your moment.

I wish I could show you the backend of hiring decisions — the ones driven by internal shifts, changed timelines, or new team leads with different visions. Things you could never predict, prepare for, or control.

I wish I could tell you: “It wasn’t a no to your potential. It was a no to a match that wasn’t aligned right now.”

But how do you fit all of that into one email?

A Letter I Can’t Send, But Wish I Could

If I could write the kind of rejection message I really want to, it would read something like this:

"You were seen. Your story mattered. Your time in the interview room wasn’t wasted. I’m grateful you trusted us with your vulnerability, your effort, your time.

But recruitment moves fast. Volume is high. Systems are automated. And feelings often get lost in the noise.

To My Fellow Recruiters

We’re taught to move efficiently. To score, shortlist, send outcomes, and move on.

But let’s not forget the people behind those applications.

Let’s be the kind of professionals who remember that empathy isn’t a weakness — it’s a bridge. A human one.

Every candidate we reject carries that “no” into their next application. Let’s send them off with at least a trace of kindness.

To Every Candidate That Didn’t Get Picked

You are not your rejection.

You are not your last interview.

You are not less than because you didn’t make it this time.

You are possibility, still unfolding.

I see you — not just the lines on your resume, but the beating heart behind them.

This is me, writing what I wish I could say out loud every time I press “Send.”

Not for performance — for presence.

For humanity in a system that too often forgets it.

So if you’ve ever opened a rejection email and felt the sting, I hope you also know: on the other side, someone might have felt it too.