Potential waster

You post, as usual, brings up a unique perspective, Pangloss. I have had similar experiences, working in a dead-end job with people who have no desire to find another avenue. This happens a lot in the service industry. People are professional servers, sometimes pulling down as much as $33k a year, which isn't great money but considerably better than most and even tastier when you consider how much of that isn't getting reported with taxes. But when conversations arise over our lives, the fact that I have a college degree is an often flummoxing fact.

Why don't you get another job? You are over qualified for this, they say. And I am. And I hate it when I look at them and say to myself that while I appreciate the work and do a good job, I feel I am better than this job. I do not live based on these earnings and I will not do this the rest of my life. Serving is awful work and if I did it forever, like many of them will, then I'd consider myself a burnout.

The only thing I consider redeeming about myself when I think this is that being aware of how ruthlessly patrician it sounds perhaps means that I don't mean it as much, or at least know what kind of asshole says this stuff. Like I have the right to scorn a job. But then again, a lot of the people there have kind of burned out. Drop outs who have smoked themselves THC stupid and rednecks who are so convinced that they've got something bigger coming around the corner but won't give up "a good job." Maybe this is the end and it's all they need or want. But there are people who work there also who are on breaks from getting their degrees and will never finish, and I know they don't want this as the end. They have skidded off the track.

I don't ever know how to feel about these things. I am overqualified to be a bartender and so I am not out of bounds of saying that I want to find more challenging work. But then the people who work there who never planned on doing that forever but now have to do so. I think what I'm facing is the question of whether I can think of wasting potential as a bad thing, bad enough to reflect on the character of the person who wasted it.

An interview

Pangloss, sorry I have been so long in posting a response. You see, I was out of town. I had a job interview. For a real job.

It was a crazy experience -- the company paid for my flight to their location, paid for my stay at a (nice) hotel, bought dinner, breakfast and lunch, and picked up every taxi bill as well. My first thought, as soon as I arrived at the hotel, was how bizarre it seemed that a company would be so interested in me. After all, six months before any given day this week, I was probably drunk on Spring Break. I thought, if these people only knew me well enough, they'd realize how silly it is to hire me. But then, that's how a lot of people feel, I bet.

Of course, this company is a real company with huge revenue numbers. They're capitalist to the bone. They're expanding rapidly. They're the opposite of what I thought I would do when I graduated. And now that I'm in the running for a real job with real pay and real benefits, it unsettles me that I am so excited at the possibility of abandoning the hopes I had when I was in college for a life that eschewed conventionality in favor of vibrancy. What does this mean for me?

For starters, I haven't completely abandoned my ethics. The company is incredibly gracious and very concerned about doing the right thing. It's not Google, but they're motto is not very different from Google's "Don't be evil" mantra. So I've either a) found the shining example of responsible profit-motive or b) been seduced. Either way, though, I've let something slip since college. Taking this job, if I'm offered it, doesn't mean that I'm entirely selling out, but it does mean that already, in the three months since graduation, I've become something of that person I used to disparage. You know, the college-age liberal who was not quite so willing to forgo the luxuries provided him in the safe environment of the university when he was on his own. "Fight for world peace, until you find that you might have to go without HBO!"

It also means that I have to abandon, at least for a few years, my plan to go international. It once was incredibly formalized and had since devolved into little more than foreign vagrancy, but it still holds a dear place in my heart. Deny that? For a job? Where is my gusto? In six months, I might only be able to find it in my locker at the country club.

The company, though, really was great. I'd love to work for them, at any age, which is part of what makes this process so frustrating. If I had already gone into the great big world to have my adventure, then this is exactly where I'd like to work when I came home. The company really seems perfect, save one thing. While they may have arranged all flights and accomodations, I did still have to pay for parking at the airport.

A good thing

Sometime over the past week and a half, I had some long conversations with friends who are still undergrads. The talks were typical, mulling over common interests with lazy pleasure. It was good to know that these friends had not abandoned me since I departed the university. But somewhere in the conversation, it became clear to both of us that while our friendship is not tied to my alma mater, I was certainly graduated and he was certainly not. And in that recognition, I did find at least one light shining in our collective darkness, Pangloss. We do not have to start another year of college this week.

Summer has been a bit of a blow-off season. I've searched for jobs and scrounged for quarters, but I've also spent a lot of June, July and August "taking time off." I've been drunk. I've spent hours listening to records. I started a blog. The depression of our condition is no reason to take heart, but the fact that I am, for all my non-starting, in the real world and not tied to the academic institution forces a smile. So Pangloss, times are grim, things are rough, but we do not have to wake for a class, study for a test or ponder theoretical interpretations of the presence of uncircumcised penises in modern French film. At least, not for a grade. And we are adults. So that's a good thing.

A Productive Day

A Productive Day:

1. Moe's Southwestern Grill was disappointed that I didn't have any "restaurant experience" listed on my application. Where do I start if not at the bottom?

2. I found a bottle of flat Sundrop in the pantry.

3. I found Diary of a Mad Black Woman in the $2 bargain bin.

4. My dog bit a yellowjacket.

5. I had a good bowel movement right after I woke up.

6. Listened to Isaac Hayes' Greatest Hits and read World War One poems until 1 AM.

I never knew you can find parallels between trench warfare and unemployment.

Just because there is no enemy doesn't mean I don't want a Broken Arrow

Indeed, dear reader, Pangloss is right. Vietnam has become the most apt descriptor of our situation. Demoralization, depletion of resources, nationalistic ennui and impossible victory are the currency of our dialog.

Pangloss' post is an excellent summary of the purpose of this blog, so I want to kick off my contributions with a hard-facts story of American economic downfall. Granted, the newspaper industry has been traveling a rough road for a long time, but I never thought I'd hear this in any interview:

Managing Editor: So, are you interested in this position?
Me: Absolutely. I think I'm totally qualified to do this.
Managing Editor: I do not disagree. Are you willing to work long hours for little pay and little chance of advancement?
Me: Absolutely. Pay me a pittance.
Managing Editor: Well, even though we advertised to hire for this position both online and in print media, we cannot afford to do so. Thank you for stopping by our office to interview for the imaginary position at your own expense. No, we do not validate parking.

Who advertises for a job that does not exist? Maybe it is an elaborate joke on the part of tenured professionals.
"See that fresh college grad, Bill?"
"Sure do, Gene. Looks like a greenhorn."
"I concur. Let's mess with him."
And then, splat: The economy is a herd of pigeons, I am a statue.

This is what awaits the American post-grad. For a long time, a joke has circulated about future generations needing graduate degrees to fold sweaters at the Gap -- now it seems like that may already be the case. After all, it's not as though there are jobs for people like us. Necessary: 5-8 years experience. How am I to gain 5-8 years experience when no one is hiring?

If Dr. Pangloss was right and this is the best of all possible worlds, then every one of us is already in trouble. Call in the Broken Arrow -- the enemy may not have completely overrun us yet, but I am not sure I want to persist in this bunkered state.

After all, the bunker is in my parent's house. Pangloss, take that ship and sail with it.

Despair Sets In

Welcome all, to the terrible wasteland that is the post-graduate life. Maybe you had some hopes and dreams about what you were going to do right after college. Hey, I've got a bachelor's degree, I can do plenty of stuff, I can succeed.

But, no, you soon find that the world has no space for intelligent, capable people who have no qualifications to do anything. Internships? Nope. Work-study? Nope. Have you ever rolled burritos for pay? Nope. Well, you're just not what we're looking for at the moment.

If you are or have been in the same situation, having followed your passions, worked hard, and still got sharted on by Life, I welcome you to read this blog. For laughter is the best medicine and we will attempt to soften the despair of failure with some good-natured humor.

Why the picture at the top? Because for us, the post-grad world is like Vietnam. You're like a Green Beret stuck in a backwater camp, hoping that you can keep the indigs (i.e. your sanity) together while the Vietcong attack the wire every night. You hope and pray that the VC (i.e. the economy) will hold off long enough for the 5th Air Cav (i.e. some employer) to break through the bad weather (i.e. all the other peons applying for jobs) and bail your ass out. Otherwise, Charlie is going to break through the southern redoubt and barbeque the hootches with napalm. But things don't look good, so you never rule out the possibility of calling in "Broken Arrow" over the radio. Yes, that it might be: your hope of a career can end just like an A-4 Skyraider dumping high explosive on top of your overrun position, taking you along with the enemy.

So here we go, boldly venturing into the dark humor which sustains us in this time of trial. Let's just hope Dr. Pangloss wasn't right.