WE'RE sorry. We're sorry. We're sorry.

Unfortunately, we don't have any openings to suit your credentials. Although we are not hiring at this time, we will keep your application in our active file. We regret to inform you that, despite your excellent credentials, we will be unable to offer you a position this summer. We're really sorry.

We're sorry too. Very sorry.

We're so sorry that we sent out a combined total of 125 resumes and cover letters in our methodical and comprehensive summer job search. Betsy applied for jobs at law firms in Boston, New York and North Jersey (the home field advantage). Beth applied to magazines and newspapers in New York, Philadelphia and South Jersey (corruption creates a lot of jobs)

We're sorry to say that we got a combined total of 87 negative responses, some more negative than others. Some companies told us that we had applied too late, some offered us non-paying internships, some told us that we had applied too late for non-paying internships and some to devise our own rationalizations.

The missing 36 letters? Those, you can safely assume, weren't positive offers for jobs. Some companies didn't write back. They didn't even call.

THROUGH ALL OF THIS, we have learned how to deal with constant rejection. It isn't actually that bad. Some places can be kind of nice when they are telling you that you aren't qualified enough to answer their phones. Of course, we could have avoided the massive onslaught of negative mail by only applying to one or two places, but we didn't trust the Harvard name to swing us into the most lucrative and prestigious summer jobs. We decided we would be better off if we hedged our bets.

We hit the post office, bought a roll of stamps each and then we went to Bob Slate to pick up some double-bond, acid-free ivory electronic cream Watermark paper. You have to spend money to make money, right? When we mailed our letters, we said a prayer over the mailbox (if the shema could get Moses out of the desert, it should be able to get us out of Boston for the summer) and we waited.

Some responses came immediately. Some took weeks. The ones addressed "Dear Applicant," offered the least hope. They were always very standard four-line letters saying. "Thank you for your letter and resume. Unfortunately, we have no openings for ___ (insert noun for indentured servant) at this time. We will your resume in our active file and if a position becomes available we will contact you. Thank you for your interest in ___ (insert long, WASPy, firm name, i.e. MacKenzie, Brackman, Cheney and Becker--'I'm not really a paralegal, but I play one on T.V.')."

Don't call us, we'll call you. We understand that, but one question we have yet to resolve is: What is an active file? It sounds like a euphemism for something. We have a sneaking suspicion that our letters go the same place that theirs do--either straight in the trash or taped to the wall for people to laugh at.

A few letters were just puzzling in them selves--in one case we still don't know who rejected us. Beth got a letter from a "BPI Communications" in New York saying that her resume had been forwarded to them at the corporate office. They neglected to mention the magazine to which she had originally applied.

The world of corporate politics can be brutal to people just starting out in the world. One law firm admitted that they only hire partners' children. One homey women's magazine (think Good Housekeeping, Redbook, etc.) almost hired Beth, but before they could call and offer the job, their evil corporation made them take someone else. "We really like you," the woman said on the phone, "We just had to take the vice president's niece."

But it is almost better to be rejected for bad reasons than to be told, "Dear Intern Applicant...our program is highly competitive as is the environment in the newsroom. The finalists who have been selected generally exhibit more experience, both in writing and reporting, on a professional level. I encourage you to pursue a job at another paper where there may be opportunities for you." Ouch.

Or to be brushed off with a curt, "This will respond to your letter and resume. At the present time we do not have a position appropriate for you. Good luck." Yeah, right.

Not all letters are this bad, however. Quite a few were actually encouraging. They referred to us as "qualified candidates like yourself," and they said things like: "I was impressed by our resume"; "your credentials appear to be excellent"; "we found your background to be quite impressive. "And they encouraged us to "get back in touch with us next year when you begin to look for a full-time spot."

Our most creative approach was to call in all our favors and use all of our "Harvard alumni" pull. Surprisingly, people didn't care that we, too, had lived in Thayer. But we didn't get discouraged.

We considered contacting relatives, but we wanted to avoid the nasty appearance of nepotism. So instead, we approached people who could be relatives--but who we knew weren't.

We thought Judith Pinsker, a writer for "Another World," would definitely pay attention to a letter from a potential relative. Since she didn't reply, we think she must already have enough relatives. Or maybe she had a bad experience with a real niece who shares my name.

Betsy tried a similar approach with Jerome P. Facher of Hale and Dorr. While she didn't get a job, for once she got a very warm letter that didn't start with "unfortunately." That world didn't come until the second sentence when he said that unfortunately, the firm may have a policy against "engaging another Facher (however remote the relationship)."

THE NICEST FIRMS we heard from ended their letters with a statement like "With your excellent qualifications, we are certain you will have no problem finding a position to suit your interests. "We were never as certain. When you get 10 or 20 of these, you start to get a little cynical.

Are rejections all we got for our efforts? Well, no.

We got mail for months, and that's an important bonus. Betsy got to sit on an office of Career Services panel on "How to Get a Summer Job" in the legal field. To cap it off, we both eventually got jobs ("Would you like that Whopper to go?")

And, as our parents annoyingly like to point out, it was a character-building experience.