"Take My Job...Please."

I'll be here all week; try the veal.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to Commencing Nowhere.

My name isn’t important—this is obviously true, since no recruiter from any of the fucking companies I applied to even bothered to read my name after they spent a grand total of 7 seconds perusing my resume.

Let’s start with an academic autobiography: I graduated from a good high school with a great GPA and class rank. I did very well on my SATs, and applied to an unnamed liberal arts college that promised me the moon. Everyone says if you go forth in this pattern—joining clubs, gaining leadership skills, getting challenging internships and maintaining top grades, you’re gonna be just fine. White-collar jobs will tumble from the sky and your wingtipped feet to greet you with fantastic salaries, benefits and promises of upward mobility. While smart people called me a fool to go forward with a liberal arts education that promises “diversity” and “a truly unique education that gives you a background in so many subjects” instead of something lucrative like science or mathematics, I bought the liberal arts dream.

I graduated from college with a 3.7 back in May, had serious leadership roles in a couple of campus organizations—and fretted daily about finding a job. I applied for shitty jobs and didn’t get them; I applied for jobs that were associated with my major and never heard back from anyone; and I sat in interviews where people with the intellectual capabilities of fleas mispronounced the names of the companies where I interned. Then, they never called me back. I fretted day after day, sitting in my basement, waiting for one of those so-called “essential” connections to help me get a job.

And here I sit. Unemployment’s become a way of life.

At first, I blamed my alma mater. While I still agree that these liberal arts schools overcharge you to give you a degree that, at this point, is barely worth the price of that paper it’s printed on, I pushed the responsibility for my unemployment off on them. “I did so well here, and did what I was supposed to do, and now I’m fucked.” Then, I blamed myself. “I should’ve known better than to pick political science/English/sociology as my major.” I guess I’m correct on both accounts—when the college’s message is put to the test, the emperor is stark naked. And I should’ve done my research before I believed it. If all I wanted after graduation was to walk into some kind of decent entry-level white-collar job, I probably should have chosen a bit of a different course.

But recently I was up in New York, and I started to realize something while talking to one of my old fraternity brothers: unemployment can really be hilarious. It was like a giant weight lifted off of my shoulders as we sat there in a cigar bar, drinking scotch, and philosophizing about the meaning of work. Unemployment isn’t miserable—it’s a time to build great memories. The interviews. The sitting around watching Lost all day long. The not getting out of your pajamas until dinner time.

You naysayers out there who either (a) have a good job; or (b) have shitty job just to have one or; (c) are unemployed but haven’t given up hope are probably about to lambast me. “Stop bitching about not having a job and get off your ass.” To those morons, I have four words: Go fuck a collie. If you really think it’s that easy just because you read like one Ayn Rand book in 12^th grade, then hear it from me—it isn’t.

But, chances are, many of you’ve been going through the same bullshit application/resume/phone interview with Human Resources idiot/in-person interview/second in-person interview/(maybe a third one in there too, just for good measure) for all kinds of jobs, and it’s totally stressing you out. Getting a job sucks now more than ever. Getting a shitty job sucks even worse because you have to jump through the same hoops for a job that pays as much as your first job working the drive-thru at Wendy’s.

You see? Unemployment can get rough, but why not stand back and laugh. Look on the bright side: it’s not the end of the world. You don’t have a terminal illness and the couch in your basement is pretty comfy. Jersey Shore re-runs are just waiting to be watched. If you think getting a job is so crucial to your social status, so that when someone says in a bar, “What do you do?”, you’re terrified to say that you work as a waiter or a caterer or a failing writer, you’re in the wrong place. Why not just embrace it? You’re unemployed/underemployed and you’re fucking proud of it. Brag about how much freedom you have, how you don’t have to deal with the grind everyday, how you go to the gym whenever you want to and go out drinking on Tuesday nights just for the hell of it. Studies show that most men define themselves by whatever they slave away at sort of happily for between eight and fourteen hours a day. Don’t be that guy. Not having a job doesn’t sound so bad now, does it? Believe me—I’ve tried this approach in conversation, and people eat it up.

This thing exists for people to share their fears, stories, criticism, whatever—we’ve all had that terrible interview, or woken up with night sweats during first semester senior year of college wondering who’ll actually hire you, or applied to seventy jobs only to receive ten written rebuffs and sixty non-responses from the HR bimbos who can’t even be bothered to send you a boilerplate rejection e-mail. Once you get past being offended by it, you can laugh at it. Of course I’m bitter, but I’m not gonna let them get the best of me: I’m laughing in their faces all the way to the bank...errrr, not the bank, but I digress.

So, stop worrying. Chances are, the unemployment rate will only get worse this year. Chances are, if you’re a liberal arts grad like me, your college is pretending to help you: career fairs, networking days, college job boards, the whole lot of scams. Take it from me: this shit is useless. Unless your dad/dad’s friend can hook you up after graduation or you majored in finance, you’re going to be hitting the skids and picking up Starbucks applications like the rest of us. Embrace it—you’re screwed. It’s never been so much fun.

Sincerely (Broke),

Commencing Nowhere