On your 56th attempt at something, you might expect a different outcome. After all, if practice makes perfect, try enough times and maybe you’ll get there.
But for one determined jobseeker in Nunavut, even sending in dozens (and dozens) of applications for government work hasn’t unlocked any office doors. The count stands at 56 rejections over nearly a decade — enough to wear down even the most hopeful soul.
This person didn’t give up quietly. They took a different tack, filing a request for records to see exactly why they were passed over so many times. They wanted screening criteria, interview scores, even the names of selection committees. The territorial Department of Human Resources released some documents — more than 100 pages at first, then another 80 or so. They also created a summary table showing how the candidate did in 16 recent competitions. But there were limits. Many older files had already been destroyed. And the territory’s privacy commissioner who reviewed the matter said that HR’s actions were, by and large, lawful.
“Nunavut’s access-to-information law … gives applicants a right of access to records, not a right of access to information,” the commissioner wrote, drawing a sharp line between facts that exist on paper and the answers we may yearn for in our heads. In other words, no matter how many questions the jobseeker asked — 19 specific points in total — if the records didn’t exist, HR wasn’t required to create new ones.
Still, the commissioner gave the applicant a partial win, ordering HR to review the files for those recent competitions again. More details about how the tests were scored, or how screening criteria were applied, should come out if they’re there. But one hard truth remained: The applicant wouldn’t be getting other candidates’ scores. That would be an “unreasonable invasion” of privacy, the commissioner said.
It’s easy to feel for the applicant. Nine years is a long time to knock on the same closed door. Anyone who’s ever searched desperately for work knows that sinking feeling of waiting and hoping. And it’s fair to want some clarity about what went wrong each time.
But it’s also easy to sympathize with the folks in HR, now rifling through old filing cabinets, digital and otherwise, to meet their obligations. They followed the rules on destroying old records. They handed over what existed, and now they’ve got to look again. At some point, you have to wonder: Is this helping anyone?
Jobs come and go. So do chances, governments, and yes, even well-intentioned hiring managers. The commissioner’s decision pushes Nunavut’s HR department toward more transparency, and that’s good — we should all applaud more open records. But maybe it’s also time for the applicant to consider another path. Trying 56 times to get a government job suggests a dream that just might not be meant to be, at least not with this particular employer.
In the end, transparency is a win for everyone. Job seekers deserve to know how decisions are made, and public institutions benefit from the trust that openness builds. But perhaps the biggest lesson here isn’t about records or scoring criteria — it’s about resilience. Knowing when to persevere and when to pivot is one of life’s hardest decisions.
For this applicant, the answer may lie not in the files they’ve uncovered, but in the courage it takes to chart a new course. Sometimes, the best opportunity is the one you haven’t tried yet. Or perhaps the 57th time will be the charm.
