Oh the incessant inquiries passing themselves off as genuine interest: “Are you ready for graduation? What are you doing next year? So … do you have a job?”
NO, okay?! I do not. I, Lindsay Tomson, do not have a job. I’m graduating from a fairly elite, very expensive university in a month and still I remain unemployed.
Now, is that something I need to be so ashamed of? I don’t think so. Because I look back at my four years here and I feel accomplished. The portfolio of my Duke experience includes a decent GPA, leadership experience and some other miscellaneous moments of achievement. For all intents and purposes, I’m not the bottom of the barrel among job applicants. And neither are you. You! There! You’re unemployed, too! I know that’s true because if you DID have a job, you wouldn’t be reading The Chronicle. You’d be too busy taking selfies with your paycheck and announcing your brand new profession via Facebook. No, if you’re reading this you must be looking for someone to commiserate with.
What if I told you that your pool of commiserators is a lot bigger than you may think? We, the unemployed masses of Duke University, are a quiet yet talented majority of this population. We may have grown wearisome from an unsuccessful job search, but we remain determined and passionate about the perfect internship/job/grad school from which we will launch our careers and our adult lives. And sure, our passionate determination can get a little mistranslated.… Perhaps it even occasionally reads as cynicism. Like that time I responded to the future job question with “Screw it, we’re all gonna die in the Apocalypse anyways.”
That was a misstep on my part. I need to approach these questions with a little more levity. The next time a future i-banker of America asks how I intend to support myself next year, I will wink and say, “Hoping to get knocked up by a rich guy, wanna hit this?”
It’s a shame I’m not mother material or marriage material, otherwise this plan would be infallible. My debutante days failed me in this realm.… Yes, yes I was a debutante. And what a colossal waste of time! Instead of learning how to navigate LinkedIn, I learned table manners and curtsying technique. But in truth, this societal sweetheart learned nothing at all because she sat in the back making sarcastic remarks. I guess I should have shut up and taken notes during the chapter on getting your MRS degree—then this whole occupation thing wouldn’t be so daunting. But hey, if any cuties are headed toward six-figure paychecks and looking for a mediocre life-partner, I’d love to leach off you baby.
Let me re-evaluate that, because it got a little sexual. Maybe I’ll take this leach thing in a different more adventurous direction—by stealing from the rich and giving to the poor! Ooh I like this … the Robin Hood pension plan (tights not included). Beware of my bow and arrow; I am a desperate woman.
My apologies to my employed readers. I want you to know that though this may seem like an attack, it is not. The fact of the matter is, I’m not only proud of you, I’m envious of you. Which is a way bigger compliment. Duke kids live their lives collecting the jealous glares of those around us. It is our greatest satisfaction. It’s why we party—not to have fun, but to look like we’re having more fun that you. It’s also, unfortunately, why myself and the other jobless folks retreat into rants against the future. It’s why I’ve had this cloud of insecurity preventing me from living in the moment. I should be conscious about the future but not obsessive.
Self-assurance. Trust. Faith. These should be the hallmarks of a job-seeking student. Sometimes we forget that we are not only worthwhile but also incredibly gifted. We grew up with this awareness, but lost it upon setting foot on a campus of equally impressive individuals. There’s this false logic that if the person next to you is extraordinary, it makes you ordinary. That’s wrong. My worth is self-determined. It does not wane and wax with the successes of others. If you’re looking to the left for some self-validation, you’re not going to find it, my friend. Look down. Look at the ground you stand on and draw that security from your own ability.
You know what? I’m unemployed. Oh well. I’m not discouraged. I embrace it! So when someone asks if I have a job next year, I will valiantly cry out to the night: NEVERRRR!
My time will come. And if it hasn’t already, yours will, too.
Lindsay Tomson is a Trinity senior. Her installation of the weekly Socialites column runs on alternate Wednesdays. Follow Lindsey on Twitter @elle4tee
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