For most of my life, I’ve been under the impression that I’m decently attractive, funny, creative, athletic and really, really smart. Ever since I was an idiot preschooler eating rocks in the sandbox, my parents have been telling me how awesome I am. I used to habitually eavesdrop on their phone calls and would often overhear my mom bragging to her friends about how I made the best finger painting in kindergarten or was the tallest girl in my class or should probably skip a grade but she didn’t want to take me away from my friends. My dad loved to tell his buddies about how I could catch and gut a fish by age 10 (this is actually true) and even enjoyed threading the poor earthworm onto the hook (not true at all).
As Dukies, I know many of us have had similar experiences—we were raised thinking we were the smartest, coolest, most narcissistic kids around town. And often, we kind of were. My younger self had straight A’s, athletic quads and little exposure to rejection of any kind. Prior to Duke, I didn’t really know what it felt like to fail at something. Because perfect, awesome people don’t fail at anything, right?
With graduation rapidly approaching, however, I’ve made a startling realization: My parents are liars! I’m not all I’m cracked up to be. This became immediately obvious upon the most unpleasant undertaking of my Duke career: the job hunt.
So I began the infamous job hunt thinking that my cool internships and Duke degree would be sufficient to land me a high paying, impressive, really fun, cool job. My parents would definitely agree (I mean, they gave me the idea). But what is this job, you ask? Well I have no idea, which is why I spent much of September applying for consulting jobs.
I’m still not even sure what consulting is, but it did make me spend a lot of money on case interview prep books and an ugly black suit. I applied to at least 10 different firms nearly positive that I would dazzle them all with my (overly padded) resume, professional (read: funereal) attire and (truly shabby) cost-benefit analysis skills. So what happened? Out of 10 firms, only one opted to interview me. This firm then cut me a week later, causing me to drown my sorrows in wine and cake frosting while pondering my intelligence and the meaning of life.
When I broke the news to my dad, he gave me some advice: “It’s OK honey, I’m sure they just didn’t understand how amazing you are! You’re too cool for consulting and they could tell. Talk about a boring job, you would hate it. Chels, you just need to do what makes you happy! You’ll be just fine, don’t worry.”
While I love my dad dearly, this was probably the worst advice anyone has ever given me. Thanks, I’m amazing, but if no one can see it then I’m pretty much out of luck. And I guess consulting sounds boring, but it pays well so that’s something. And if I did what makes me happy, you know what I would do? I’d somehow steal enough money to buy a beach house in Fiji, where I would spend my days lounging in the sun, eating cupcakes and painting pictures of dogs with some shirtless boy toy. And STOP TELLING ME I’LL BE FINE! You don’t know that! What if I’m not fine? My Duke degree will be no more valuable than my third grade soccer participation trophy if I turn into a jobless, homeless crack addict. Will you be bragging about me then? Thanks dad, you’re the best, but nothing you just said helps me at all, unless you want to finance my future hedonism and/or drug addiction.
I guess it sucks getting rejected, but now it’s one more thing I’m comfortable with. In fact, I’ve applied to (and been rejected from) so many jobs that I can predict my application’s outcome from the subject of the prospective employer’s email. Bad news: “thank you for your application to McBain Group” or “the status of your application to McBain Group has changed.” Good news, although rare: “background check requested” or “news about your application.” My coping mechanism for not losing my mind while job hunting has been to keep my expectations low. I assume each prospective employer is going to cut me immediately. That way, when they do cut me it’s no big deal, and when they don’t, well, I’m pleasantly surprised without feeling entitled.
If I’ve learned anything from the dreaded job hunt, it’s that being a naïve narcissist is stupid and certainly won’t get me hired. It’s also important to know that all of the jobs recruiting from Duke are super competitive—the whole thing is such a crapshoot. Companies get so inundated with qualified applicants that they are always looking for any reason, legitimate or not, to cut you.
PLOT TWIST: I actually did manage to snag a job for next year, and quite frankly, I have no idea how it happened. Maybe the interviewer liked my awkward jokes? Or my lack of funereal attire? I may never know. But my advice to you all, fellow Dukies, is to keep your chin up and stop thinking you’re the best person in the world. And I know I hated my dad for telling me this, but you will be fine. Trust me. If I, of all people, managed to get a job, then we will all be fine.
Chelsea Sawicki is a Trinity senior. Her column is part of the weekly Socialites feature and normally runs every other Wednesday. Send Chelsea a message on Twitter @ChelsTweetzz.
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