A rare moment of sincerity

I've received several e-mails recently on this topic, so I thought I would address it publicly. People wanted to know how I got my job, where I looked, and how I decided what I want to do with my life. I like to call this introspective questioning the quarterlife crisis.

We've been out of school for a few years now and those initial jobs we got are breaking down, or maybe we're just realizing it's time to move on and do something better with our lives. It might also be the fear of settling down too soon that has us in the job market again.

The message I want to convey the most is that you are not alone. You are not the only one out of college, losing contacts with old friends, and unemployed or working retail. Unfortunately, there is a stigma attached to this position. We already feel like such wastes of society, we don't want to talk about it for fear that you will also think we're losers. Just last night I got a call from a very old friend who I haven't seen in about 6 years. He had heard what I went through and he's going through it now and- get this- he wanted to talk about it. He said he didn't want to face judgment from his other friends. "I'm pathetic," he whispered.

I actually didn't know if I wanted to talk about my experience or not. I only told one friend what I was going through at the time, and the only reason I told her was because she was also unemployed and couldn't judge me. Did I really want to expose my loserdom? Yes, yes I did. If it means this guy won't feel like I did, then yes I will.


For me, I had geared my entire life towards one point and that point wasn't the right direction for me. Of course, I didn't decide that: God, the powers that be, fate, the four elements- whatever you believe in- decided that for me.

Thanks.

And I know that it wasn't my destination because it wasn't just one thing that fell through. Everything that could have possibly happened to prevent me from meeting my plan happened. It was rough for me for to accept this. I didn't get out of bed for a month. I was the girl in her pjs at four in the afternoon eating a bowl of cereal and watching Oprah. It wasn't pretty.

I ended up in a bookstore one afternoon and in the dollar bin was a book about said quarterlife crisis and I bought it. When I get home, I open up the book and read about the author. She was a perky blonde who's my age living in Washington and working for the White House. This is her second book. "Eff this girl!" I screamed at her picture. She embodies everything I wanted for myself. That girl doesn't know crap about what it feels like to do everything right in life and to stare in the mirror and see a loser. I took a marker out of my night stand and drew all over her face. I'm a courtly lover of books: I won't crack the spine or dog ear the pages. I won't do anything to destroy the pristine beauty of a book; I love them too much to deface them. I drew over her picture like hell. This was how much I hated her. It was very therapeutic.

Every weekday I'd apply for work. I applied for an average of 7 jobs a week in 3 different cities. For 4 freaking months. If being in your current position isn't bad enough, not catching a break in the professional world will put you there.

A lot of people got very worried about me. My parents tried getting me on herbal supplements and made therapy appointments for me that I refused to attend. I stopped calling my friends back because I didn't want to face the question, "Do you have a job yet?" Even though they were my friends, I couldn't talk to them because they could not empathize at all with my position in life. I'd cry every time I spoke to my old roommate who moved away. The first time I saw my friends from college again after I moved away, I burst into tears. I wanted and needed them so much, but I'd literally open my mouth to speak and words wouldn't come out. I just couldn't reach out and tell them.

I muddled through everything alone. I had about 3 diaries that I wrote for me alone- they must be burned unread upon my death. I finally began calling people back and forcing myself out of the house. It turned out that when I reached out, my friends were more than happy to be there for me. My editor for a paper I used to work at helped with rework my resume and I got the very next job I applied for.

And I love it.

I'm moving to a new city where I have some old friends, but I'm also making a lot of new ones. I went out to dinner with some girls from work last weekend. A couple of us were new. One girl leaned over and whispered to me, "How long did it take you to find a job?"

I laughed and said, "Four pathetic months."

She sighed deeply, "Me too. I'm so glad to hear I'm not the only one."

"Me too!"

We looked at the girl next to us, "How long did it take you to get this job?"

She looked down. "Seven months. I was living with my aunt and uncle and working retail before."

We all felt such shame about what we went through to get to our current positions that we couldn't even look at each other while we gave our answers.

I was so happy to hear all of this that later that night when I met people, I'd ask them what they did before they got their current jobs. Mail rooms, forklifts, truck driving: I heard it all. And 100% of these people graduated from a university.

You're unemployed. You're running out of money. It seems like all of your friends have life figured out and doing better than you. You are not alone. I get you, I really do. I think I struggled with it more than most people.

Society won't take our predicament seriously because we're young and supposedly resilient. Unfortunately this is what I think caused the stigma, that you're not supposed to be 25 and unemployed. But it happens more often than you think. It's actually quite common. So chin up, dear unemployed university graduate, the guy taking your money at the gas station just might be your classmate.