Being Worth Less Doesn't Make You Worthless

          Unemployment is the new black. Forget about your college friends who went into a really specific field like finance, medicine, or law. Forget about your friends whose families have awesome connections, or the money to let them do unpaid internships after graduation in the hopes that they'll turn into paying jobs. Look at the History, English, Psych, Anthro, Poly Sci, Journalism, or even  Engineering majors who aren't going to grad school and don't have those professional connections, and chances are they're probably either looking for work or doing something as a backup until their work falls into place. Yeah, post-graduation teaching programs, I'm looking at you. I seriously considered doing one of two teaching programs in New York after graduation for all the wrong reasons. It was a noble cause. It was a paying job. It would give me a Master's degree. I'd probably be good at it. Never mind that I had never intended to be a teacher and didn't intend to remain one after the program, I could talk myself into doing it if I tried hard enough. But here's the thing: teaching deserves better than the likes of me, or any other college student who just falls into a similar program for similar reasons. I'm not saying those programs and the people who do them aren't amazing, because that's just not true, but our education system deserves a serious, committed makeover by people whose life passion is education, not desperate Anthro majors who wanted to live in Boston anyway (that's me, I'm talking about me, don't get offended).

            I spent the last several months of college semi-scrambling to secure employment, having mild panic attacks every now and then that were rather easily subdued by a fun night out or a distracting senior year tradition. After awhile, things took a turn for the better. I had several interviews at promising companies. I had two offers in New York to teach. I had the greatest internship in the world that left me with stock options and a possible position as editor of a magazine at the end of the summer. Then reality won out and I turned down the teaching jobs to make room for those who really wanted them. Those promising companies never got back to me. The start-up with that amazing internship and editing position dissolved days before I was supposed to sign a contract. Even through all the disappointment, I always just thought it would work out and I'd figure out something. I'd get a great job that would put me on the right track. It would be in the city I loved with great people and maybe even a cool mission statement. I went to Yale, for God's sake, employers would take one look at my resume and ask me out on a date. I was stupid, is what I'm trying to say. I'm probably still stupid, but after months of getting kicked in the face by my empty Gmail inbox, I'd like to think that I'm a little less so. Graduation came around and the panic started to set in. I can't remember the last time I had a good night's sleep. I wake up and I freak out, the anti-incubus of Unemployment looming over my bed and telling me that not only do I suck, but I'm going to starve. Or have to live at home forever. Either one is officially The Worst Thing Ever and I am a grand failure of a human being. Frankly, I hated my graduation party and the world surrounding post-graduation because every new person who showed up gave me a huge hug and held their breath as they asked me the big question: "So what's next?" Nothing. Fucking nothing is next. Thank you for coming. I like your earrings.

           It's essentially impossible not to feel as though your career is a reflection of your self worth. After all, we don't really go to college to satisfy personal curiosity, grow intellectually as people, and contribute meaningfully to the world of academia. We go to college to help gear up for the career of our dreams. When you're a little kid and an adult asks you what you want to be when you grow up, nobody wants to hear about your plans to have an amazing family, travel the world, or excel at your personal passions. They want to hear about your dream career, a mentality that shapes our existences for all of our adult lives. When people ask you what you do, they want to know what line of work you're in. Your career is, of course, one of the most defining things about you as an adult, as it feeds/houses/clothes you, introduces you to new friends and colleagues, and (hopefully) challenges you, but does it define you wholly as a person? The mad dash to the perfect post-graduation job, the subtle competition during dining hall discussions of your respective futures, and the bragging rights afforded to the kids who got signing bonuses months before graduation rolled around might suggest so. Life isn't supposed to be about happiness or even contentedness right now, it's supposed to be about getting your life started in the perfect direction of upward mobility towards your dream career, and settling for any other job, even for the best of non-professional reasons (or because you frankly don't have a choice), is a huge mistake that will haunt you forever. If your job defines your self-worth as a recent graduate, it would only follow that being unemployed makes you feel pretty worthless.

           This feeling has seriously impacted the quality of my life. There's a fine line between genuinely deserving to feel despair and wallowing, and I've crossed it dozens of times since graduation. I feel the people around me tread a little lighter so as not to invoke an hour-long life discussion about how this is the end of the world. Yeah, I'm a little dramatic. My car insurance bill literally made me cry. I haven't slept well in months. Every dollar I spend is physically painful, and I walk out of every money-sucking venue (also known as "stores") finding at least three things I just bought that I probably don't really need. It's a process. Thank God I grew up pinching pennies or I'd be in actual debt by now instead of just kinda broke. I've sent out literally hundreds of resumes and follow-ups, I've spent hundreds of dollars on travel expenses, and I've used up pretty much all of my friends' and family's patience. So I'm gonna stop now.

           I'm gonna stop thinking I'm going to be defined by a kind of shitty post graduation job. You're supposed to have a kind of shitty post graduation job. Some people don't. Those people are often either lucky, unbelievably hard working, or doing something they don't actually really want to do in order to make a lot of money. Maybe they're all three. For the rest of us, recent surveys of companies who are currently hiring say that employers understand how awful the job climate is right now, and they get that there's going to be a weird gap or two in your resume as you manage a Pinkberry or work at a club mysteriously called "The Bareskin Rug." (I just made that up. I'm cut out for PR work, I tell ya.) I'm gonna stop thinking that being at a job that's fiscally or idealistically worth less makes me worthless. And honestly, so should you, if you're one of those people trying to figure out your life (which apparently means none of my Facebook friends...we get it, your life is fabulous). I came up to Boston with five job interviews and found out all of them were scams or pyramid schemes. All. Of. Them. Sneering receptionists barely contained their disdain as I left them my resumes at any of the ten companies I stopped by, likely throwing them out after I left. One guy didn't even care who I was, he just wanted to know which security guard let me into the building so he could fire him. The places I have liked won't even consider hiring me unless I live in the area.

          So here's the part where instead of becoming suicidal, hopefully I get a bit inspirational (and probably a still little stupid). Despite everything, none of this makes me want to quit trying to be in the city I love, doing work that I really like. So I'm going to hold my breath and take the plunge. I'm going to move here and likely temp at some big corporation that compromises my morals as a human being so I can eat. One day I'm going to write a book and Jon Stewart will invite me on his show to talk about it. I'm going to get married to the love of my life and have the most beautiful, smart-assed children in the world. I'm going to own a boat because boats are fucking great and I want one. Answering phones or filing papers in a depressing basement room with unflattering lighting for awhile doesn't make or break that future. It doesn't define who I am as a person. I do. I'm still going to be okay.

Though I wouldn't say no to a winning lottery ticket. Or maybe just some canned goods? Let me know.