Before writing your next thank-you note, ask yourself if you really want to go through with it. Do you have what it takes? Sure, you put in two weeks of work on that fellowship application and a whole day interviewing, but that’s sunk cost at this point.
Do you have the grit and tenacity to figure out whether you’re “excited about” or “looking forward to” the next step in the application process? Will you be able to use the phrase “next step,” or will you judge yourself for being too forward? What if the word “opportunity” comes up too often? Do you dare return to those thesaurusless badlands where professional-sounding-words-with-no-synonyms await?
You should also consider your proofreading needs before writing. Be honest about whether you should edit for the stray “fuckfuckfuckfuck” scattered throughout your email by a vague shadow of your unconscious. There is no tangible evidence for this very specific fear, but that makes it more likely to be subconscious-born, not less. If your id is quietly planning to strike you down via random cursing in professional emails, you won’t get a warning. You’ll need a whole team of eyes on this thing. Are you ready for that headache?
Even if you decide to move forward, make sure the writing process doesn’t create value conflicts. For instance, your praxis. You only recently learned that term and only to impress Margaux at the coffee shop, but it matters. The proletariat shouldn’t be thanking the bourgeoisie, right?
And who’s to say that your potential bosses even want a thank-you note? Didn’t they say “we’ll be in touch?” That leaves the ball in their court, no?
Now that you think about it, it’s at least a little badass to not write a thank you. To just let your interview stand as a mic-drop moment. You bought that machine that electro shocks your palm sweat into submission for a reason, after all. Wouldn’t a note just cheapen that effort to tame your hand clam and dominate the post-interview handshake?
At this point, you’ll want to congratulate yourself for having revealed thank-you notes to be a soul-sucking waste of time. Take your place at the vanguard. Imagine the groundbreaking opinion you’ll write about the end of thank-you notes. Notice your palms juicing up just thinking about the Pulitzer ceremony and revel in that sweat. Let it cleanse you.
Before you dive into the opinion piece, take a celebratory email scroll while your hands dry. You’ve earned it.
Scanning your inbox, notice LinkedIn reminders to congratulate several recently promoted frenemies. Smile as you consider the time they wasted on thank-you notes. Try not to dwell too long on one of the names – Sean – or on how fast he used to crank out papers. Sean always was a turdburger anyway.
Notice the fellowship offer missing from your inbox.
Take a look over in spam and find it’s not there either.
Realize that your palms are still sweating but not in a cute way.
Think about firing up the palm zapper, but don’t go through with it because you promised yourself you wouldn’t get addicted.
Slide on over to your drafts folder because why not? You’re already in your email account.
It can’t hurt to give the thank-you draft a quick readthrough.
Wait, is that an actual “fuckfuckfuckfuck?” Did you “fuckfuckfuckfuck” in your intro paragraph? You must have gotten nervous trying to subtly prove you noticed things about their institution. How many other emails have you “fuckfuckfuckfuck”-ed in!?
Read it again and breathe a sigh of relief. There was no text-based cursing, only the normal chorus of “fuckfuckfuckfuck” haunting your inner monologue and projecting itself onto the page.
You actually have a decent start here and you haven’t even used the word “opportunity” yet.
Maybe just go ahead and finish this last one off. The Pulitzer people will never know.
