Chuck Spurnor was a collector. You may try to imagine all the sorts of things he could have chosen to collect, and you will probably be wrong. Chuck did not collect the first, the best, the popular, the glitzy, the most expensive, or the greatest anything. Chuck collected rejection. Now you ask, “How is it possible to collect rejection?” You would be right to wonder. It was both ridiculously easy, yet extremely difficult, all at the same time. Let me tell you his story.

Chuck’s mother and father married when she turned 18. Two months later, she gave birth to him. The combination of marriage and motherhood rapidly became overwhelming. She left six months later, asking a neighbor to watch the baby. The young mother left nothing of hers but a note detailing her issues and the location of baby Chuck. Her husband, Vito, was working at the bank as the newest trainee in the loan department. Arriving home and assessing the situation, the “mature” 19-year-old proceeded to do his best to raise his mother-rejected child. For reasons known only to him, Vito placed his wife’s note inside a large keepsake box.

Growing up, Chuck was an ambitious and happy child. He was scrawny and uncoordinated—plain clumsy to tell the truth—so he did not excel at sports. He energetically tried out for nearly everything he could but was just plain rejected, mainly by the kids. He entered a spelling bee, but sadly, even though he knew the words, his anxiousness made his mouth misspell, causing rejection from the contest. Drama club appealed to him, so he decided to give acting a try. Nervousness caused him to flub the few lines he had, and his clumsiness caused other students to fall off the stage, so that was another no. A typical eager boy, he gathered his courage and asked a number of girls out. Most of them were reasonably polite about turning him down, but some were not. All of his forays into the dating field, other than in groups, led to another list of all the assorted rejections that Vito noted and added to the keepsake box.

Chuck was an average student, and after graduating high school, he sent out numerous college applications. All the big universities rejected him, so he entered community college. While there, he managed to attract a girl and they went on four dates. That was enough to convince the overly romantic boy to purchase an inexpensive ring and propose, but she said no. Chuck took over his father’s habit of writing notes. He began adding “souvenirs” if available, like rejection letters, dance flyers, and the ring, then placed it all in the keepsake box.

After graduating with a basic degree, Chuck eagerly applied for numerous jobs within a wide area. Unfortunately, the only organization not rejecting his application was the local refuse company. They hired him to be a trash collector, with minimal compensation. Following behind the trash truck, he manhandled the overloaded, smelly trashcans to empty their disgusting contents into the back. Needing transportation, Chuck purchased a cheap, five year old Pontiac Aztek from its disgruntled owner. He did not realize at the time that the car was one of the most rejected, vilified vehicles ever produced. A GM Executive once described the car’s appearance as, “an angry kitchen appliance,” and another as, “The only vehicle to look like it’s been in an accident before it left the factory.” It made many top ten lists as the worst car produced and world’s ugliest car. A picture of Chuck with his car, and several magazine articles, went into the keepsake box.

After his father passed, Chuck attempted the purchase of a modest house. Rejected due to lack of adequate income and insufficient work history due to just graduating college, he tried renting. Rejected by several proprietors, he found a tired old, unfurnished apartment. Happily, he found rejected furniture left on the curbs, which he made as presentable as possible. A favored piece was a desk he found and refinished. His kitchen was outfitted with dishes and cooking utensils rejected in their own rights. He purchased them at the same thrift stores providing his clothing. A laptop, rejected by its owner in favor of a new one, was another prized possession. A picture of the house and before and after pictures of each acquisition went into the keepsake box.

Chuck had plenty of free time. He avidly anticipated playing on various local sports teams. However, when it became evident his lack of coordination had not improved, each time ended in rejection. He loved singing in the shower, so he tried out for the church choir. He was so nervous in front of a crowd his tongue would wrap around his eyeteeth. That caused him to mess up consistently, so he had to go. He tried socializing in bars, attempting to strike up conversations. It seemed everyone was too engaged in his or her own lives to talk with him. Eventually, he had to leave when the managers realized he only purchased one soft drink and nursed it for what they considered far too long. The logos of the teams, a songbook, and names of the bars all went in the keepsake box.

Nevertheless, Chuck remained ambitious. Periodically through the years, he would apply for other jobs, but never had any luck. Determined, he kept trying different activities so he would not be alone so much of the time. In the course of his varied efforts over the next decade, he met six different women. Each of them awakened his romantic side; but of course, not all at the same time. His loneliness and eagerness for a companion made him overzealous and he always moved too quickly. After around three or four dates, he would purchase an expensive ring. He figured perhaps the value of the ring played into the rejections. Chuck would happily propose in the nicest settings he could manage. He used a shadow box to display all seven rings, including the one from college, which he hung on the wall. Notes on the job searches, pictures from the assorted activities and the women; all entered the keepsake box.

Sadly, he accepted that being alone would be his lot in life. Chuck elected to utilize his free time by becoming a writer. Feeling he was clever enough to make a go of it, he decided to write sentiments for greeting cards. He began producing several hundreds of assorted ideas, from romantic to quirky to humorous. He made batches of his renderings and mailed them to greeting card companies anticipating they would be accepted and purchased. That is when the rejection letters began falling through the letterbox. The majority of them were form letters stating that the submitted work was not suitable. Occasionally, one would have some nicer things to say, even though it was still a rejection. He framed those and added them to the wall near the shadow box. The rest ended up in the keepsake box.

Undeterred, Chuck switched gears and chose to write poetry since he felt he saw the beauty in the world. He wrote poetic works about anything and everything he could imagine. He churned out loads of poems, submitting to as many magazines as he saw on the rack at the grocery store. Rejection letters began arriving in the letterbox, although some came to his inbox. Some rejection letters had nicer things to say and were hung on the wall alongside the others. The email letters were printed and then added to the posted ones in the keepsake box.

Concluding that poetry was not his forte, Chuck dived into doing research online. He discovered that he had been approaching it all wrong. What do different magazines want? He learned there was a market for short stories. Naturally, that was what he needed to produce. Researching further into the proper construction of them, Chuck began practicing his prose. He studied multiple guides, and had checkers on his computer to improve his spelling and grammar. After creating several stories he believed would pass muster, Chuck followed the submission guidelines of particular magazines and began submitting. Emails pinged in his inbox. Printing the ones that had polite things to say even though rejecting, he added them to the wall. Encouraged by those nicer comments, Chuck went on another writing spree. Then he did it again, and again. As more rejection letters flooded his inbox, Chuck began turning despondent. When not at his job hauling trash, he had spent years alone, slaving away at his computer, pursuing his dream of becoming a writer. There was nothing to show for it but a bulging stack of rejections inside his keepsake box.

Chuck had aged, but not in a good way. He just felt tired. His entire body ached, and arthritis had invaded his feet, hands, and joints. Likely it was from the strenuous work of trash collecting and sitting at his computer for so many years. His back hurt, there was a crick in his neck, and his vision had deteriorated. He had been retired for a while and his cherished dream of becoming a published author had gradually faded. Sighing, he sat at his desk with the open laptop as usual. His weary gaze went up to the shadow box and framed rejection notices on his wall. With some effort, he pulled the lid off a nearby box and slowly began sifting through the contents. He was painfully reliving all the rejections of his lonely life, dropping them on the floor as he reached for the next. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he arrived at the bottom. Gingerly taking it out, he read the note left by his mother all those many years ago. Exhausted and laying his head down on crossed arms in front of the laptop, Chuck Spurnor breathed his last, next to the now empty keepsake box.

The sleeping laptop screen lit up.

INBOX: New Message

Dead Waste Magazine

Hi Chuck,

I am delighted to inform you we have selected your short story: “Rejection Collection,” for publication. Look for it in our forthcoming issue.

Best,

Dregs Rubble