Tuesday, January 09, 2007
What the Hell Happened?
Recently, I was thrown to the wolves and left for dead. Basically anyway. I graduated from Bates College (Lewiston, Maine) in May. Faced with the daunting task of entering the real world, I panicked. Why you ask? Well, where do I start?
In the hopes of providing a little commiseration to those experiencing similar post-college struggles, I offer you my story. First, let's start with the tumult that results from graduating college. In my case, an unceremonious 4 P.M. deadline to leave campus (six hours after graduation) marked my departure from a home I had known for four years. Not exactly blessed with foresight, I had few options: head home to Ohio or find any reason to remain in New England. I bought two weeks by volunteering to work reunion weekend. Faced with impending doom twelve days later, I once again beat back the specter of home. A French professor needed a catsitter through the end of June. Being the catlover that I am, I jumped at the chance, and called my parents with the unexpected news that they would not be seeing me or their car until July. Through June, I continued my dedicated job search in New England. However, with expenditures far greater than my income, things were getting a little harry.
Thankfully, I had the force of a B.A. in History and a French minor to power my search for employment. My email box was full and my cell phone was ringing off the hook with human resources people fighting to offer me jobs. I couldn't have asked for more, what with all the insurance sales positions beckoning. I even had a contract on the table as an independent contractor. The earning potential from June to August was tremendous, but I was unsure of the potential for advancement as an ice cream man.
Living off peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Easy Mac, I was the poster child for post-graduate success, besides the whole lack of employment thing. Living off the fat of the land, my credit card, I traversed New England, visiting friends and basking in the afterglow of graduation. I earned it; I wrote a seventy-five page History thesis afterall (including the bibliography).
While contemplating my future as an Ameriprise financial advisor on June 26th, I received a call from Art and Jan in Ohio. My credit card bill had come home and they weren't pleased. They also informed me that they had bought a new car and that Big Red was all I was going to see in terms of help from them for awhile. So it was decided: with little money, a problematic credit card bill, and angry parents, I concluded that I would have to return home. The drive from Portland to Toledo is 857 miles, 730 of those miles spent on lonely I-90. The only company you find on that isolated stretch are the semi-trucks out of Syracuse and Utica making their way west towards Erie and Cleveland.
As I pulled into my driveway in Toledo, an overwhelming feeling of melancholy fell over me. Don't get me wrong: I was mildly proactive in the job search. But nevertheless two and a half months later, that luckless feeling had become full-blown depression. No job, no prospects besides temp work in a lifeless town, I spent most of my waking hours buried in self-pity. Then, the Toledo Storm came calling. Not really, a friend of my father facilitated a lunch meeting with the General Manager of Northwest Ohio's minor league hockey team. And so a few weeks later on October 2nd, I began my life as an Account Executive with the Toledo Storm.
To Be Continued...
In the hopes of providing a little commiseration to those experiencing similar post-college struggles, I offer you my story. First, let's start with the tumult that results from graduating college. In my case, an unceremonious 4 P.M. deadline to leave campus (six hours after graduation) marked my departure from a home I had known for four years. Not exactly blessed with foresight, I had few options: head home to Ohio or find any reason to remain in New England. I bought two weeks by volunteering to work reunion weekend. Faced with impending doom twelve days later, I once again beat back the specter of home. A French professor needed a catsitter through the end of June. Being the catlover that I am, I jumped at the chance, and called my parents with the unexpected news that they would not be seeing me or their car until July. Through June, I continued my dedicated job search in New England. However, with expenditures far greater than my income, things were getting a little harry.
Thankfully, I had the force of a B.A. in History and a French minor to power my search for employment. My email box was full and my cell phone was ringing off the hook with human resources people fighting to offer me jobs. I couldn't have asked for more, what with all the insurance sales positions beckoning. I even had a contract on the table as an independent contractor. The earning potential from June to August was tremendous, but I was unsure of the potential for advancement as an ice cream man.
Living off peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Easy Mac, I was the poster child for post-graduate success, besides the whole lack of employment thing. Living off the fat of the land, my credit card, I traversed New England, visiting friends and basking in the afterglow of graduation. I earned it; I wrote a seventy-five page History thesis afterall (including the bibliography).
While contemplating my future as an Ameriprise financial advisor on June 26th, I received a call from Art and Jan in Ohio. My credit card bill had come home and they weren't pleased. They also informed me that they had bought a new car and that Big Red was all I was going to see in terms of help from them for awhile. So it was decided: with little money, a problematic credit card bill, and angry parents, I concluded that I would have to return home. The drive from Portland to Toledo is 857 miles, 730 of those miles spent on lonely I-90. The only company you find on that isolated stretch are the semi-trucks out of Syracuse and Utica making their way west towards Erie and Cleveland.
As I pulled into my driveway in Toledo, an overwhelming feeling of melancholy fell over me. Don't get me wrong: I was mildly proactive in the job search. But nevertheless two and a half months later, that luckless feeling had become full-blown depression. No job, no prospects besides temp work in a lifeless town, I spent most of my waking hours buried in self-pity. Then, the Toledo Storm came calling. Not really, a friend of my father facilitated a lunch meeting with the General Manager of Northwest Ohio's minor league hockey team. And so a few weeks later on October 2nd, I began my life as an Account Executive with the Toledo Storm.
To Be Continued...
