I had bad luck on my job search.
I wanted to get a job before I left for college. I really really did. But unfortunately our current climate has perpetuated a vicious cycle. You need experience to get a job. You need a job to get experience. See the problem?
I was given one offer but, for reasons I won’t go into now, I couldn’t take it up. I went into college experience-less, which isn’t very promising for an English major in this environment.
In college, it turns out, jobs are everywhere. Fluorescent fliers coat billboards and are plastered onto walls. They offer shady, not well described jobs promising ‘flexible hours’ and ‘competitive pay’. I’m not quite that desperate. It’s probably making phone calls. Phones are the enemy.
I do have a job. Kind of. It’s a fellowship, paying minimum wage, but for work that is somewhat respectable. I’m doing research work for a professor, which consists of getting lost in my campus library or reading centuries-old theology on the internet. (St. Augustine wasn’t as clever as he thinks he is.) It’s not work as many people would think of college ‘work’. It doesn’t pay super well. However, it’s a job that doesn’t require much personal contact and I’m getting about $200 a month.
That by itself is pretty cool. Yeah, I could make more at McDonalds. But still, it’s mine. I earned that money. (The notion that they’re basically paying me for chunks of my life, although creepy, is easy enough to brush aside.) I’m worth money. Real tangible stuff that I can use to buy other stuff. Mostly hot drinks once it gets cold, probably. It’s another tiny baby step toward adulthood.
If only I could get a raise.