THE MANY REJECTIONS OF A COLLEGE GRAD

“Olivia,

Thank you for your recent application. The shortlisting process is now complete and on this occasion we regret to inform you that after careful consideration we will not be taking your application any further.”

At the time of writing this, I have applied to 146 jobs and cold emailed dozens of companies. Also at the time of writing this, I am still unemployed.

I am sent the “insert receiver name here”, automated rejection letter about once a week. And those are just from companies that bother to reply. Most potential employers ghost me like a bad one-night stand. Their flowery wording encourages me to try again in the future. A false sense of hope to soften the blow I suppose.

After numerous attempts to land a job (I’m still on the hunt), I have fallen into a post-grad/pre-career rut. Symptoms of this rut include: playing Mario Kart to avoid your problems, questioning your skills, education and choice of major (i.e., Why did it take me a bachelor’s degree to realize I have zero interest in what I studied?), deflecting questions from relatives about your future, and shamefully eating a whole sleeve of Oreos to numb the pain.

Even in the midst of a quarter-life crisis, I manage to find the silver lining. Some days it’s the simple fact no one ever knows what they're doing at any age despite their grossly fabricated attempts to fool others on Instagram. Other days it's the reassurance of knowing I have years ahead of me that possibly involve sitting in a cubicle for eight hours a day at some mundane job where my boss micromanages me to the point of developing a mild drinking problem. And today it was, of all things, a “motivational” post on LinkedIn by some douchebag who pays $29.99 a month to be a premium member (*gag*).

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At age 23, Tina Fey was working at a YMCA.

At age 23, Oprah was fired from her first reporting job.

At age 24, Stephen King was working as a janitor and living in a trailer.

At age 27, Vincent Van Gogh failed as a missionary and decided to go to art school.

At age 28, J.K. Rowling was a suicidal single parent living on welfare.

At age 30, Harrison Ford was a carpenter.

At age 37, Ang Lee was a stay-at-home-dad working odd jobs.

Julia Child released her first cookbook at age 39, and got her own cooking show at age 51.

Vera Wang failed to make the Olympic figure skating team, didn’t get the Editor-in-Chief position at Vogue, and designed her first dress at age 40.

Stan Lee didn’t release his first big comic book until he was 40.

Alan Rickman gave up his graphic design career and landed his first movie role at age 42.

Samuel L. Jackson didn’t get his first major movie role until he was 46.

Morgan Freeman landed his first major movie role at age 52.

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Despite having to Google who Ang Lee is and neglecting to fact check the post's claims due to pure laziness, it did make me feel better about my current state. Sure, reaching the likes of Oprah may be out of the question, but I have years to get my shit together. For Christ’s sake, what's the rush in pretending to have it all “figured out” anyway?

So yes, I may not be “adulting” (f-ck you if you use that word unironically), or have my own place, or even know how to do my taxes without parental assistance, but this is the case for many twenty-somethings.

Everything comes in time. Plus, I have a strong feeling I won’t peak until at least 36, so it’s uphill for now.

And just in case you’ve read this and haven’t been put off by my crude language and general callousness, here’s my portfolio and resume if you need a new hire (*finger guns*).

#postgrad #college