Somebody save me. I'm having a quarter-life crisis four years too early. I've been in school since I was six. I have nine weeks and two days left until my graduation. But the only number that seems to matter to me is zero. That's how many job offers I've received.
I've often imagined what my life would be like months away from my college graduation. In these apparently absurd daydreams, I pictured myself laying all my boundless opportunities out on a big, mahogany table to be carefully considered. And now here I am. I don't have a big, mahogany table and more importantly, I don't have any options to consider on it. I mentioned my sad, futureless situation to my father, and he responded by telling me to enjoy my freedom before life's big responsibilities take over. Enjoy my freedom? How can I possibly enjoy this extent of freedom?
I think this might be the emotional struggle a recently released criminal goes through. He's just gathered all his belongings and stepped out into the fresh air for the first time in years. On the way out of prison, the warden said, "Enjoy your freedom!" But after stepping outside, the ex-convict realized he has absolutely nowhere to go. He'd been in there for so long that he doesn't know what it's like to be anywhere else. Sure, in May I'll be free. But in some circumstances, being committed to something, or having an upcoming obligation, is better than having a blank agenda. This is one of those circumstances.
Granted, I don't know anyone graduating from my college who wants to work in a creative setting that has secured a job. But the fact that I've got company is really not comforting. Oh, good. There are hundreds of other journalism, advertising and public relations students in my position. Well maybe we can all meet up at Starbucks and wallow in self pity when May rolls around.
Here's the icing on top of my dry, bitter, under-baked career cake: My freshly hired older brother just started a job in banking that will undoubtedly lead to his success. He's got an interesting, well-paid career that comes with stability - and a sign-on bonus. I've got interesting, well-planned dreams that come with constant disappointment and a "will work for food" sign. I'm truly happy for him but also disgustedly jealous that his degree so easily led to his employment.
Why is it that obtaining a creative job is nearly impossible?
Personally, I have applied for more jobs than I'd like to admit. I feel like I've been searching for love on Match.com. I've submitted the appropriate information to who knows how many different receivers, and no one has even given me the courtesy of a rejection letter. I want to believe that they're all just going to bombard me with responses on the same day. But in my discouraged heart, I know I may not be finding an ambitious advertising executive or a talented magazine editor to work for anytime soon. But even with this painful truth etched into the back of my brain, I still can't bring myself to settle.
I understand where you're coming from single, white female from Trenton, New Jersey. You know Mr. Right is out there somewhere and just because he hasn't come across your profile yet doesn't mean you're gonna say "I do" to Mr. Wrong. I don't want to work as an advertising account person when copywriting and creative writing appeal to me so much more. So, until I receive a job offer that I'm really interested in, I'm just going to continue imagining what that day would be like. I can see Mr. Right Job sitting across from me at a big, mahogany table looking over my resume. In my well-planned dream, he says, "It's a perfect match! Do you want to start tomorrow?"
Zero. That's the number of seconds that pass before I excitedly shout, "I do!"
And finally, I'm saved from my own freedom.
Carly Hallam is an advertising senior. Her column appears on Fridays.
