In my time at Duke, I had no less than three people tell me they wanted to be president.
Now, this may sound like small number to you. “Just three?” you may ask, puzzled given how many times you hear the word “pubpol” bubbling around 1st floor Perkins at any given moment. And yes, three presidential contenders may seem small in a talent pool as rich and deep as Duke’s student body.
But these weren’t flippant musings in class or heart-to-hearts between sleeping bags at dawn in K-Ville. These weren’t dreams. These were immaculately thought out plans—plans that their respective owners planned on executing to perfection.
These future presidential hopefuls were all male—all blessed with the SAT scores, Duke degrees and sharp jawlines that would one day propel them into political success. I could sense inklings of their life plans in class. There was the banker, who planned on getting into politics the old-fashioned way: after he’d earned his first couple million. There was the grassroots guy. He’d return to his home state to start his career shortly after graduation to reconnect with the state from which he was proud to be born and bred. And then there was the corporate type. He wasn’t yet sure where he’d call home, but eventually he’d skip right to the glitz and glam of the U.S. Senate to find solace amongst his highbrow colleagues before making his run for the White House.
You’re probably thinking–I know him. And wait, I know him too. Or: that kind of sounds like that guy from my English class who I struck up a conversation with a couple of times.
Or maybe you’re thinking to yourself: how dare you reveal my life plans in the school paper, Annie?! My answer to that would be: be less predictable, that’s how.
But the reality is that these men represent all of us. We expect so much of ourselves by age 22 and we expect that much more by age 42, so we plan accordingly. And this makes sense given that at this point, we’ve succeeded by leading a life rife with rigidity and planning. You got to Duke because of “the plan.” So why should it be any different when it comes to post-graduation?
As you start to think about the “real world” this early on in the year, it’s terrifying. The deep, dark unknown is beckoning toward you and suddenly the amalgamation of your internships, extracurriculars and experiences abroad just don’t seem so relevant. So to the best of your abilities, you plan with what you have in that exact moment. It doesn’t matter that Duke students can wait in line for upwards of nine weeks for a basketball game—what we can’t wait for is for life to happen. Or at least, not without trying to control fate to the best of our abilities.
That’s the reason, so I believe, that so many people rush into jobs early on in their senior years. Some apply in order to rush into a job, others feel forlorn and worried about being rejected, and the rest feel insignificant in that they didn’t consider applying in the first place. These places offer plans—and perfect ones, at that. They offer high pay and come with high regard. They attract the same sort of “wow” factor that Duke does when you first introduce yourself. Some of them do incredible good in this world, some of them sell life changing products or services, and some of them will pay for your grad school if you stick around long enough.
None of this is to say that every person who accepts an offer before their senior year begins, or takes a tech or management consulting job in early October, is making the biggest mistake of their life. By all means, good for you. Many classmates of mine who did just that are incredibly happy with their decisions and I have no doubt that they will go on to do real good in the world.
But there are also others who feel like they made big mistakes—people who hate airports and are equally afraid of flying to Kalamazoo, Michigan for consulting every Monday morning for the next four months. The life plans that they perfectly laid out two years prior come apart at the seams as they realize they just aren’t that passionate about Microsoft Excel. So they’ll move to a new city simply because they like it, or work on the Hill for no money, or enroll in grad school because they finally figured out what they’re passionate about.
I would encourage you not to rush into things, but I’m too jaded to think those efforts would be anything but futile. Because, I get it. The allure of an offer in October and earning a salary that nears six figures during your first year out of school is nearly inextricable. I don’t have all the answers, and I doubt that the plan I’ve charted for myself—despite all of the addendums I’ve already made to it in the past six months—will even work out.
But sometimes, time is worth it. It’s worth it to graduate without a job, it’s worth it to read contracts law long into the night and it’s worth it to travel around Asia or lay on your couch for six months while soul searching to find the right answers. And even if you don’t find them, and in a year you’re working at a coffee shop or weeping in your car every afternoon because your students won’t understand the material, that’s okay. The reality is that every president’s life—and the life of every managing director, business magnate, doctor, Supreme Court justice, etc.—is shaped not only by the life and career decisions they laid out, but also by the ones they didn’t. You might meet the love of your life while you’re working at a brewery or scuba diving in Thailand. The next big thing in Silicon Valley could be hiding in somebody’s garage in Portland, and the future senior senator from Maryland could be cleaning bedpans at her local hospital in the meantime.
So the question begets itself—will any of those men who are carefully curating the rest of their lives actually become president?
I guess only time will tell.
Annie Adair is Trinity '17. Her column with McCall Wells, "duke, forward," runs on alternate Fridays.
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Annie Adair is Trinity '17. Her column, "duke, forward," runs on alternate Fridays.