‘My first rejection challenge’ … making coffee in Warrington. Photograph: courtesy of Sophie Jones View image in fullscreen ‘My first rejection challenge’ … making coffee in Warrington. Photograph: courtesy of Sophie Jones A moment that changed me Life and style A moment that changed me: I sought out rejection. Instead, strangers met me with profound generosity As I turned 21, fear was holding me back. So I decided to face it headfirst. It taught me that courage leads to connection – and people who owe you nothing can be astonishingly kind
Prefer the Guardian on Google In May 2024, I decided to spend 30 days getting rejected on purpose.
At first, it sounded ridiculous. After all, most people spend their lives actively trying to avoid rejection – and I was deciding to walk, full force, towards it. But it had become obvious, as I turned 21, that my terror of being rejected was holding me back.
Read more For over two years, I’d stayed in a relationship I knew wasn’t working, all too aware that the alternative – dating – would likely be riddled with rejection. On social occasions I often felt absent, focusing solely on not seeming weird or doing anything that might make others laugh at me. And in my first proper job, as a social media manager, I would talk myself out of opportunities that would put me in the spotlight and might have given me a chance to shine.
So I promised myself I’d stop hiding from rejection for one month and see what happened. After a lifetime of worrying what people thought about me, I knew that only radical action would work.
Later that week, on a sunny August afternoon, I found myself walking into a small independent coffee shop in my home town of Warrington, preparing for my first rejection challenge. I hesitated by the door for what felt like forever before finally plucking up the courage to walk to the counter.
There, instead of placing my order, I forced myself to say the words, “I was wondering, if you showed me, could I make my own coffee please?”
I had no reason for asking; I wasn’t especially particular about how my drink was made and I didn’t harbour grand ambitions of becoming a barista. I just wanted to see what would happen if I asked – and how I’d feel if they said no.
View image in fullscreen ‘They laughed with me, but never at me.’ Photograph: courtesy of Sophie Jones I fully expected the staff to laugh at me or get annoyed for wasting their time, and I had a backup plan in place: I’d apologise, let them make my drink, apologise again and leave.
But there was no anger, no interrogation. I explained my self-imposed “rejection challenge” and the barista seemed to see the funny side. “Why not?” he said.
Less than five minutes later, I was behind the counter with an apron around my waist. My instructor walked me though the steps before letting me take the reins. He showed me how to steam milk without burning it, how to pull the perfect espresso shot, and reassured me every step of the way. We chatted about coffee, work, life – and I soon felt like I’d known him for a lot longer than just a few minutes.
Walking out with my too-syrupy, slightly wonky latte, I felt a new admiration for baristas everywhere. I also began to suspect that my fear of rejection might actually be rooted in my own prejudice: the assumption that others were always judging me.
As the challenge went on, I continued to be met with patience and generosity. I would approach people with unusual requests: asking strangers if I co…