Thanks to the summer internship process, even Harvard students are no strangers to rejection. All of the letters read the same way: “Thank you for your application. Unfortunately, we are unable to offer you a position, but we encourage you to apply again next year.” Sadly, for me, there is no “next year” to fall back on. With my senior year on the horizon, this upcoming summer has presented itself as the crucial moment not only for securing a respectable internship, but for cementing my career as well.

When these same rejection letters appeared in my email inbox by the masses last year, I comforted myself by saying that companies wanted to hire someone who would soon enter the work force, or perhaps someone with a bit more experience under his or her belt. But receiving a rejection letter in your final “college summer” carries with it a much stronger sting. To me, these letters seem to say, “We’re not willing to invest in you as a potential future employee.”

Of course, there’s no guarantee that college graduates won’t land jobs at the very companies that once rejected them as interns. But, for us rejects, the odds don’t seem to be in our favor. The Wall Street Journal, for instance, reports an increased likelihood that undergraduates and MBA students alike will go on to work for the companies at which they interned. In the fields of banking and consulting, and even in the startup world, people are beginning to describe the internship as a “try before you buy” or “working interview” method.

But even for an English concentrator interested in a writing career, the hiring process is rigorous. Most publications require previous experience—the more prestigious, the better. By this logic, securing an internship at The Boston Globe or Penguin Books gives one a significant advantage toward ultimately landing a job at these companies or their competitors.

Given the current professional climate, we might be better off treating our rejection letters as wake-up calls. “This is your final warning before entering the job market. You need to do more to get hired.” Or perhaps we should view these letters, as I have begun to, as not-so-subtle hints: “Maybe you should consider grad school. Or another career.”

Of course, we have to be careful not to give too much weight to emails, “Not Inviteds” (for my On-Campus Interview friends), or pieces of paper. After all, it is possible that a company that is unable to extend an internship offer will be more than able to offer a full-time position. Or maybe the intern applicant pool differs from the pool applying for permanent positions. Nevertheless, rejection letters can and should cause us to evaluate our desirability as job candidates.

More importantly, a rejection letter can open up a dialogue with a potential employer. Receiving one serves as the perfect opportunity to ask the employer about the qualities they look for in a new hire, or to demonstrate your continued interest in the position (for the next go-round).

And, despite how it may seem, there is always another go-round. What we as college student must realize is that these letters don’t carry the permanency of college rejection letters. There really is always next year, even if that means accepting a less than desirable job at the outset of your career. It’s commonly accepted that hard work and long hours don’t ensure success the way they may have in past decades. But perhaps a clarification is necessary. While hard work and long hours may not yield instant success in modern times, they still make success possible.

Yes, when we first receive rejection letters, we view them as obstructions to our future careers. But maybe what these letters are telling us is that we need to work harder to open that passage to the future. As students about to enter the work force, we cannot possibly have dedicated the time and effort necessary for achieving our professional goals at the outset of our careers. And while a Harvard degree is certainly a noteworthy accomplishment, it is not always, if ever, a shortcut to success. Next time, don’t be discouraged when you skim that letter and see the word “unfortunately” on the screen or page. Fortune may not be yours at that moment, but it is certainly yours for the taking.

Aria N. Bendix ’15, a Crimson editorial writer, is an English concentrator in Quincy House.