Thursday, July 24, 2014

An Essay

I wrote an essay last night about how I am literally going to die without ever working a "real" job. And I've decided to share it with you here. 

I’m never going to get a job, I said today to my mom, John and my Auntie MaryKate. And I meant it, too. Because I’m 21 and an English/French major and extremely overwhelmed with the daunting project that is an adult life and also, understandably, because I have never in my life had a real job before.

For years I’ve been a babysitter, I even earned the title of Nanny for a few fleeting weeks while living in Paris. I’ve dog sat, house sat, cat sat, but mostly, I’ve just sat. Sat on my ass as the years passed me by and the crows feet appeared, that is. Okay, fine, I also wrote for my college paper for a few years but frankly, seeing as it’s student run and also seeing as my editors barely even read my articles it just doesn’t count. And if it does, it only does a tiny bit.

I know what you’re thinking: Kara, you’re 21, you’re young and bright and you’ve got your whole future ahead of you. To that I say slow down you crazy optimistic middle-aged/elderly family member of mine, slow the hell down. Because if you don’t understand then I must clarify- I HAVE NEVER HAD A REAL JOB, with like a salary or even some sort of pay by the hour type of situation. Not at McDonald’s, nor Nordstrom, nor Target, nor Starbucks. I haven’t paid my dues at the bottom, I didn’t build my way up to manager of the movie theatre by age 17 like my brother did, I do not, in fact, have what it takes to be an employee. If you don’t believe me, ask absolutely any person that works, I don’t know, anywhere.

I know where your mind is now, so it’s important that you know how hard I’ve tried. Not only did I apply to low paying entry level jobs at places that hire unqualified high schoolers (who are evidently more employable than I) but also to internships in absolutely every. Single. field. Except for maybe, math, science, whatever. I applied to over 20 positions. I heard back from three companies. Two gave me immediate, standard, impersonal, mass rejections. The Third gave me an interview with a “let’s set up a second” at the end. A freaking ton of false hope, all compacted into one sweet sentence from a girl in a maxi skirt and a hat (probably to hide her horns). And then months of complete silence. And they say dating’s rough on the ol’ self-esteem.

Here I am, learning as much as I possibly can at school, reading books in my spare time to learn more, spending years exploring Europe alone, writing for pleasure and writing for love, and I am broke and alone, with not even a paycheck to keep me warm at night.

Quite frankly, I am a freaking catch. If someone hired me to work for them I would come in early, stay late, flatter my superiors, colleagues and inferiors (okay, there would be no inferiors, but it’s the thought yada yada yada) pick up the slack, delegate properly, listen intently and think constantly. I would kick some serious ass.

Now this is the point where the conclusion would typically infer something about it being their loss and that I’m super awesome, but that’s inapplicable here because it is 100% false.

It’s my loss. And if I can’t get a job now, nobody is going to hire me a year from now. What is wrong with her, they’ll say, that she didn’t get a real job before she was 21? Oh, haha, they’ll laugh, it’s because she’s a French major who listed nannying under experience.

When I go to sleep at night I hear the violent cackling of my future rejecters, and I feel the torrential dread settle upon my chest like an obese and fanged rabbit. Pushing down onto my lungs, digging its claws into my chest, causing uncontrollable panic, refusing to leave or stop. Because I am completely unemployable. And I am completely doomed.

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