…I just took a high-speed U-turn. For those of you who wish
to try this at home, I offer the following warning. WARNING: Side effects may include
dizziness, nausea, shortness of breath and difficulty sleeping.
As I reached the final weeks of my summer internship, I
entered “panic mode.” For three months, I had worked my
dress-slacks-covered-booty off. I had learned how to clear paper jams in
seconds (They should make it an Olympic sport. Seriously…I’d bring home the
gold.). I had copy/pasted for days at finger-numbing speed. I even begged to attend meetings so I could arrive
early, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed from chugging two cups of coffee in my
cubicle. Still, I couldn’t manage to secure that oh-so-elusive full-time
position.
(Here I must stop to point out the frustrating reality that
most – if not all – full-time positions require at least two to three years of
experience in the field. It’s quite the predicament. In fact, I’ve toyed with
the idea of becoming a farmer just so
I can say, “Yup, I have two years of experience in the field.” A moment of
desperation at its finest.)
So as “panic mode” took over my 20-something body, I became
a cover-letter-crafting, resume-primping machine. I e-mailed professors who
probably couldn’t pick me out in a lineup (thanks to 400-person lectures). I spent
more time searching job sites than Facebook stalking (gasp). I even scattered
copies of my resume on downtown sidewalks and park benches. Just kidding about
that last one.
Well I ended up getting a few interviews (even a few second
interviews), but none of them seemed like a good fit (i.e., they all rejected
me or – as they so warmly stated in their automated rejection e-mails – they
“decided to move forward with other candidates at this time”).
Then one night, as I lay in bed listening to the sound of
corn hole and beer-guzzling out my window, I decided to apply to an AmeriCorps
program. The idea seemed to come out of nowhere, and suddenly it wasn’t my
upstairs neighbors playing “Satellite” by Guster on repeat that was keeping me
awake. I became obsessed with the idea of breaking free from Land O’Cubicles
and diving into something new and exciting.
It seemed to offer all I was looking for – a Holy Grail of a
position, if you will. A cause I was passionate about? Check. The chance to
live in the same city as my boyfriend? Check. Another year before I had to sell
my soul to the monotony of a 9-to-5 workday? Check, check and check. I spent a weekend exploring the city and picturing my
life there. I’d dedicate myself to a noble cause. I’d end hunger and poverty. I’d
change the world, etc., etc.
But a couple days after my first interview, I started having
second thoughts. So what did I do (other than go on a fervent cleaning spree,
scream into my pillow, and chug a beer)? I tuned into Bachelor Pad to assure
myself that my life could be worse.
Then I turned to my trusty pen and paper and to the one tool
that helped me pick a college, decide on a major, and determine whether I
preferred crunchy or creamy peanut butter (ha, kidding). Drum roll please…The
Pro/Con List.
Ah The Pro/Con List. So simple yet so effective. Over time,
The Pro/Con List and I have developed a love/hate relationship. Sometimes, like
that chimerical angel propped on my shoulder, it tells me what I don’t want to
hear. In this case, I compared the AmeriCorps program to returning to the
company I interned for. And surprise, surprise, it told me what I didn’t want
to hear.
(Here I should note
that although the company I interned with didn’t offer me a full-time position,
they offered me an extension until the end of the year. In my “panic mode”
whirlwind of job apps and interviews, I had blown over this option. I was quick
to turn away from it in search of a fast track, a more scenic route, something other than the slow,
monotonous climb up what looked like a never-ending slope.)
But suddenly, I saw things in a new way – a more practical,
logical, adult, boring (call it what you want) way. I realized that the best
path to my long-term goal was
to return to the company I interned for. I saw my goals scrawled on a piece of
recycled printer paper, staring me in the face, daring me to return to the
challenges of the office and work my way up.
I felt so certain of my decision that I turned down a second
interview with AmeriCorps (yeah, I got an earful from my angel on that one). But
I realized that choosing to pursue a career didn’t mean I had to cut out
service altogether. In fact, I hope to make it a big part of my life.
I e-mailed my old supervisors to tell them I can start next
week and began searching for a new apartment. So here I am. The road I’ve
chosen is familiar (for now) but steep. I can’t see the top and I’m not even certain
where it leads. There may be detours along the way and I know there will be pit stops (I have a bladder the size of a pea). But
I’m ready to step on the gas and enjoy the ride. Man, I wish my car had a
sunroof (Christmas present…hint hint).
No comments:
Post a Comment