Believe it or not, but the internship and/or job hunting season is just about over. And while your dreams are being broken, others’ careers are being made. The folks at the CRC are taking their thinking caps off and those who have already signed contracts are clearly getting their swerves on.
If you didn’t get the dream job you were looking for, you might want to put down that bong (or needle depending on your extremeness) and look to see where your resume could use a boost. I don’t think that you can put down that you ripped the grev three times, shot-gunned two beers, and were still conscious enough to get in your Subaru and drive to Taco Smell. Although it’s quite the feat, I don’t think it’s going to impress potential employers…unless you want to work for ExxonMobil’s ocean freight department (sorry granola folk…and literate marine wildlife).
As for prior work experience, I don’t think it would be in your best interest to include that you served as a street pharmacist from the fall of 2004 to the present. And as for your academic career, I don’t see any viable explanation for why you did well in high school but have three withdrawals and two incompletes in five semesters here at Wesleyan…except for maybe weed, but anyone with a brain or enough money to afford a fine German automobile would find that unacceptable. But maybe your academic ruin can be attributed to your inability to function without having a bedtime, someone to do your laundry, or three square meals per day. I’m sure the human resources departments at many fine firms understand the academic effects of eating pizza for breakfast and ice cream for dinner.
I know you think being a stoned-out tech star is hilarious, Mr. “I go to Freeman with the people on my hall from freshman year (who became my friends because I’m socially inept and can’t meet people in foreign environments) to play intramural sports, do lat pulls, and have a talk about my fantasy sports teams,” but you don’t have much going for you either, what with your dismal GPA that will have you being a substitute teacher in no time. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a sub…unless your name is Tom Berenger and you’re getting paid to make a terrible movie after the epic “Major League,” or if you’re writing a non-fiction piece on what it’s like to take shit from booger-eating kids who would rather slam their pre-pubescent penises in their locker doors than take anything you have to say seriously.
But if you don’t get that internship cleaning the toilet seats at ESPN along with the rest of your friends from one of the mediocre Mid-Atlantic states, you can still go to some big state school and get your masters in some form of physical education, after which you can become a gym teacher and coach, and your life (un-impacted by your college degree) will slowly spiral downwards.
Hardy har har film major flapjacks! You can laugh while you’re here in your element, but working at Blockbuster this summer will be the closest you ever get to Scorcese. But who knows? Maybe you’ll get creative all of a sudden and come up with an idea along the lines of MTV’s Date My (divorced, but independently wealthy) Mom.
Still, in the event your friends get jobs answering phones at hip modern art galleries, or being assistants to the assistants of the fourth key grip boys of minor motion pictures, it’s not too late to get a place in New York. I wish you luck in finding a cheap place to sublet in Brooklyn, as it has become as hip as heroin. But if you want to maintain your Wesleyan spirit of individualist nonconformity, there are plenty of available subleases around Staten Island, 125th street, and Inwood. You look uneasy all of a sudden.
When I wander around the World Wide Web late at night, lonely, I look at pictures of my friends at Hoftstra, Arizona, and SUNY Israel ripping shots off the washboard tummies (either natural or as a result of purging) of girls who look like they have enough trouble counting to eight, let alone ten, I try to convince myself that I’ll lead a happier, more satisfying life.
Wesleyan (although lacking in several fields) has the potential to provide you with a great education, but if you’re a daily four/twenty fanatic and can’t wait for next week’s festivities, you’re probably going to get as much out of college as the average Rhode Islander gets out of a small mollusk at Red Lobster. I used to believe that if you weren’t cheating on exams, you were only cheating yourself. But now I know that not going to class and studying hard is about as smart and useful as a torn female condom.
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