I don’t think the contest model fits this situation very well. As I understand, a contest is designed to measure aptitude along only one axis (like who can run faster or play chess better) and it’s the job of the contest organizer to keep the other conditions as equal as possible. Meanwhile, things like dating or job/roommate interviews or college admissions are really attempts at selecting people you’d prefer to be around and get along with, so you’re choosing from a set of points in a nebulous region in human-qualities-space that doesn’t linearize nicely. For example, if I say that I’m going to hire the candidate that’s objectively faster and more accurate at filing papers (which is easy to measure), then according to the contest model, I’m committing to overlooking other qualities like loudness or disagreeableness or smelliness or tardiness, which are also important factors to consider when hiring someone. These are also things I might not even consider until the pool of applicants is available!
This is why rejections from these types of places tactfully say “We had a lot of promising people and a limited number of spots so we couldn’t accept all of them,” because if they write, “We thought you were too tardy,” then next time you apply and be super-punctual, that still won’t guarantee you a spot. Because other factors!
I think the contest is tempting because it’s simple and it makes you feel like you’re more in control of the outcome than you really are (“All I have to do is be less tardy!”) but generally I think modeling these blobby types of interactions as contests creates unnecessary pain, because it needlessly creates losers when there aren’t … really any. You weren’t that in control to begin with (which can be hard to accept), so don’t be so hard on yourself for the result! You might get to date Alice but not Barbara and you might get accepted to Berkeley and rejected by UCLA.
I don’t think the contest model fits this situation very well. As I understand, a contest is designed to measure aptitude along only one axis (like who can run faster or play chess better) and it’s the job of the contest organizer to keep the other conditions as equal as possible. Meanwhile, things like dating or job/roommate interviews or college admissions are really attempts at selecting people you’d prefer to be around and get along with, so you’re choosing from a set of points in a nebulous region in human-qualities-space that doesn’t linearize nicely. For example, if I say that I’m going to hire the candidate that’s objectively faster and more accurate at filing papers (which is easy to measure), then according to the contest model, I’m committing to overlooking other qualities like loudness or disagreeableness or smelliness or tardiness, which are also important factors to consider when hiring someone. These are also things I might not even consider until the pool of applicants is available!
This is why rejections from these types of places tactfully say “We had a lot of promising people and a limited number of spots so we couldn’t accept all of them,” because if they write, “We thought you were too tardy,” then next time you apply and be super-punctual, that still won’t guarantee you a spot. Because other factors!
I think the contest is tempting because it’s simple and it makes you feel like you’re more in control of the outcome than you really are (“All I have to do is be less tardy!”) but generally I think modeling these blobby types of interactions as contests creates unnecessary pain, because it needlessly creates losers when there aren’t … really any. You weren’t that in control to begin with (which can be hard to accept), so don’t be so hard on yourself for the result! You might get to date Alice but not Barbara and you might get accepted to Berkeley and rejected by UCLA.