It was the ever so philosophical Cory Matthews who once said, “life’s tough, get a helmet.” I never realized the value in young Matthews’ words until I started the internship and job search. Why? Because this search is basically the first step towards the end of your life, that’s why. If you haven’t started yet, this is how it’s going to pan out. If you’re in the middle of it like I am, let’s just all take one big, fat Xanax and find relief in knowing we’re not alone.
The Beginning
To start this process, the first thing you should do is go to your school’s career center. If you’re like me and didn’t even know that career services existed before, like, five minutes ago, then I’d just take this one as a loss. Recoup by cracking open a bottle, taking an addy, and locking yourself in solitary confinement for a fun filled day of binge Googling.
By far, the worst part of writing a resume is figuring out how to make your “job” of literally doing nothing look like you deserve a fucking Nobel Peace Prize for all of your hard work, dedication, and slavery. Spent the summer “lifeguarding” when you were really working on your base tan and flirting with your coworkers at the country club? What you really did was become a certified water safety professional who taught underprivileged children how to swim–one of whom has qualified for the Rio Olympics in 2016. See what I did there?
If all goes according to plan, you’ll have a semi-average looking resume by the end of the day. But, if for some reason it ends up looking like shit, just print it out on pink paper and spray it with your most seductive perfume. Hey, if it worked for Elle Woods, it can work for you, too.
Midway Through
By this time, you all are too familiar with endlessly scrolling for hours, looking for a company that will let you miserably inhabit one of its cubicles for the rest of your living days. You’ve realized that you need at least 10 years of experience for an entry-level position pretty much anywhere. This has made you question your sanity, existence, and whether or not you should just call it quits and become a truck driver. You have ZERO clue how to use LinkedIn even though people have tried to talk you through it 4,792 times. How the hell am I suppose to post a professional picture when I’m drunk in 98.4 percent of the photos I’ve ever taken and the remaining 2.6 percent are divided between #tbts and Instagrams of food?
Don’t worry though–your school’s career fair is coming up! You can definitely find a job or internship there, right? Wrong. Why? Because remember that senior you made out with and not-so-secretly stalked freshman year? Yeah, he’s now a job recruiter and your potential employer. If you think you can escape him by going down another aisle, you can’t. There’s another previous hookup down that one, too. This gets old really quickly, so chances are, you’ll leave early with nothing but a few dumb giveaways and the humbling prize of knowing half of corporate America has seen you naked.
NOTE: The midway mark is usually when the “holy fuck, everyone knows what they are doing with their lives and I’m sitting here crying into a jar of Nutella” meltdown occurs. Believe me when I say that this is completely normal (although I prefer an entire block of Vermont Sharp Cheddar, personally).
The Ending
After the midway meltdown, you will start to realize you can apply the “zero fucks given” mentality to more than just the number of shots you take on Tequila Tuesday. Your search for the perfect job has now turned into a search for any job, which prompts you to start mass-applying to every position you see–much like friend requesting the new babies on Bid Day. Eventually, this will result in an interview, which is an entirely new ball game in itself.
When you walk into an interview, you want to come off as cool, calm, and collected. This task becomes utterly impossible once the interviewer says, “Tell me about yourself,” and you start sweating through your light gray blazer with pit stains larger than Tyra Banks’ forehead. Directly after the interview, you MUST send a thank you note. Because we’re girls, the most difficult task in doing this is figuring out the right amount of exclamation points to use. If you use too many, you’re overly enthusiastic and weird. If you use too little, you’re an apathetic bitch. Find the happy medium (i.e., I wanted to thank you for taking the time to interview me today. I hope I impressed you with my sweating abilities and lack of knowledge about anything and everything!)
After the interview, you play the inevitable waiting game. Comparable only to the two minutes of utter fear and anxiety after taking a pregnancy test, there will probably be little on your mind for the next few weeks besides that company’s decision. And when you finally get that “We regret to inform you…” email, it’s the worst. Blame Obama, take a few shots, and start the process all over again.
Yes, the entire world is out to get you and your life is one cruel, sick joke. But hey, at least you’re pretty, right?
Nice Move218
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Drunk but not in love
(@DrunkNOTinLove) is a die-hard Splenda addict who requires a constant supply of caffeine and male attention to make it through the day. After graduating with her degree in Economics, she now focuses her energy on adding a "Home" to her degree title by perfecting the "intelligent drunk," and conning a banker into marrying her one day. Originally from New England, she is a hardcore Boston sports fan, but only when boys are around. Almost all of her calories consumed Thursday - Saturday (and the occasional Tuesday) are from $7 bottles of Yellowtail Moscato, and in no way, shape, or form is she fazed by this. All forms of hate mail and date party inquiries can be sent to drunkbutnotinlove@gmail.com
@DrunkNOTinLove
