Andrew Honeydew

Someone rejected me in Pittsburgh.

I imagine they saw my name, while they sipped from a cracked I Love Pittsburgh mug, printed in neat handwriting, worthy of its own font on Word. They looked at my university application for five minutes before being called away from their desk by their boss- the boss they secretly go home and masturbate to, imagining finally to have one day without a reprimand or bad luck.

They retrieved their order to get a decaffeinated coffee and muffin from Starbucks, and on the way tripped and fell into a pile of dog crap. Wait, too cliche, and they weren't shit on by a pigeon either. They tripped over a black garbage bag that someone threw right in front of them. No, wait a second. It came crashing down from the third floor apartment building of the girl that this person admitted last semester. Yes!

It was filled with heavy candles and a metal floor heater because of the new No Candles, No Heaters policy that took effect after one of the dormrooms caught on fire and resulted in a long and nasty lawsuit by one of the student's parents. The culprit of the fire was another student this person admitted five semesters ago, and who should have finished their program of study by semester two but was way too busy introducing acid stamps to the students and faculty- resulting in a less than perfect first week of classes and a pregnant student- carrying her professor's child. But which professor?

So this poor unfortunate undergraduate admissions slave returned to the Starbucks after waking up on the sidewalk at an undisclosed amount of time later, only to see plenty of people walking by without a glance. The slave then bought another coffee and muffin for the boss and headed back. Upon their arrival, the boss took a sip from the coffee and demanded that it wasn't decaf, then dismissed the slave back to their desk by reminding them "You can't do anything right! Remember the stamps? How about the fire? Not even a simple task like coffee!"

The slave then dropped in their chair, rubbed their glassy eyes, and threw the file into the rejection pile. Then they printed out a letter of condolence and felt happy that I wouldn't be able to come in and add anything at all to their university.

After dreaming of what it would be like to attend their choice school, I finished a long day of work at the office and called home. My mom told me I'd received something from my choice school, and though I would normally wait to open it myself, I asked her to open the "thin envelope"- thinking it was just a standard "we've received your application and are now reviewing it" letter. I held onto every word until I felt a consuming disappointment flush over my cheeks. "Despite your fine record and accomplishments, we are unable to offer you a place... please do not consider this to be a reflection of your academic ability..."

Then I drove home imagining what kind of person would ever overlook my dedication and determination, and why they might make such a foolish decision.