From Rejection to Redemption

James Thompson stood at the entrance to the tall glass building. Firmly holding on to his department His heart was pounding with a mix of anticipation and stress. This was the day he had been mulling over for months—the day he would present his dream project to a panel of investors. He spent many years pouring his soul into it. Polished every detail Sacrificing countless weekends and sleep. Today felt like the culmination of everything.

James has always been a dreamer. And today he felt that he was doing something big. His initial idea was a sustainable and affordable housing project aimed at combating homelessness. It has the potential to change lives. He believed in him with every fiber of his being. If investors approve That means funding, resources, and the opportunity to make a real impact.

He walked into the conference room. His shoulders are perpendicular. But hands trembled slightly. A group of investors greeted him politely. Their faces were impassive. A combination of detachment from business and a bit of curiosity. James practiced his voice hundreds of times. But now that he was in front of them. The weight of that moment hit him harder than he expected.

His presentation began smoothly. He spoke with passion, his vision clear and his numbers precise. But halfway through, he noticed the investors exchanging glances, whispering among themselves. Doubt began to creep in. His voice wavered slightly as he reached the end of his pitch, his final words hanging in the air like a plea for validation.

There was a long pause before one of the investors, a gray-haired man with a sharp gaze, finally spoke.

"James, we appreciate your ambition, but this idea—it's just not feasible. The numbers don’t add up. It’s too risky, especially in this market. We’re looking for something more profitable."

Another investor chimed in, his voice cool. "It’s admirable, but we’re not convinced. Thank you for your time."

James felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under him. He stood there for a moment, stunned, before managing to nod and collect his materials. His dream, the vision he had nurtured so carefully, had just been dismissed in a matter of minutes. The rejection stung deeply, more than he could have imagined. He left the building in a daze, his mind racing with thoughts of failure.

That night, James was all by himself in his tiny place, with walls for company and an irksome clip of rejection playing on his memory. The words of the investors stabbed at his self-esteem like glass shards in a close up. Maybe they were right. Perhaps it was not practical. Perhaps all his efforts were in vain. Such pressure that failure does not come into play, rather being seen as shallow day-dreaming aspirations, outraged him.

One day became two, and the week that followed was void of joy because of ill boding. His sense of inferiority could not go away. He could not come up with himself aiming his solitude again, and still, a voice came and told him that he is not adequate, and that the idea is not worth the effort. But, however, there was a small flame within him which did not seem to extinguish.

Quite a long period went on and James found himself in a local event. It was called ‘Affordable Housing Forum’, such his project seemed unreal these days even though he earlier had directed a similar program. In silence, he took a seat in the back and listened to different speakers until he felt something turn on. It was a woman, a former comissioner who was on a panel, who covered a lot of ground regarding the housing crisis and said that we need solutions which are not predicated on profit, but people.

The pang of longing coursed through James's veins. He understood that in as much as the financiers had turned him down, his dream still counted. The setback had not lessened the call for green building's restoration; rather it had merely been a the stance of one set of people against the many. And views do change. He still had faith in the course of action he was undertaking even if other people did not at that moment.

Later that night, James turned on his laptop, which he had not used in months. This time he took a different direction and worked on the project that he had lost interest in—the ambitious goal was to destroy it, to improve it. As he understood what was happening, he could not sit still and indulge in self-pity. He wrote to specialists, asking urbanists and architects for tips, and he participated in various forums and conferences to meet more people like him. Gradually, his concept began to take shape. It acquired decisiveness and down-to-earth objectives without losing the main idea of the desire to support the unprivileged.

In two years since that disheartening defeat, James was in front of a panel again, only this time the members were not investors, they were city officials and leaders of various NGOs. The adjusted presentation he made this time was better and more supported by evidence and team work after years of failure. They wanted to know how his model of affordable green housing could fit their new strategy on hand about the increasing problem of homelessness in the city.

As he threw up the same pitch for the third time, James seemed to carry something of the past two years on his shoulders. But now it looked like he was carrying it a bit higher and feeling a bit more comfortable about it too. The only comfortable place hereabouts though was several hours climb away, and James had been there too. He’d felt every damned emotion; each one from despair, through resignation, to elation. Elation at having a dream when no-one else did.

Once he’d finished his set-piece spiel there was silence. Well this time at least silence didn’t annoy him. Finally someone official spoke; he sounded less stilted than most.

“James, you know what, we don’t have words. This kinda creativity is what we were looking for. We have an ni James10 coeconma.com for you.”

It was in that moment; James realized he will never let himself get blamed anymore. The ‘ni’ which sounded so final, so everyone knows that it is not the end of everything became a beginning of something that he couldn’t even imagine. Once again ni proved to be decisive and no less ‘purposeful’ indeed he had decided that only because it was difficult made him want it more. In fact he had embraced the rejection as nothing but a part of decision making.