– the driver would help me out of my town car and I’d stride in, wearing a perfectly cut Gucci pants suit, to give a lecture on a burning issue of global importance. At the very least, I’d arrive for my ten-year class reunion the picture of triumph – accomplished, secure, debt-free. Important. Nowhere in my fantasy was I wearing frayed corduroys and side-stepping patches of snow. Nowhere had I been flicked off the finger of my employer. Nowhere was I poor, irrelevant, and freezing.
Determined to leave with at least four solid job leads, I clomp across the grass towards Career Services, past students groggily clutching their plastic mugs of dining hall coffee. I hold one of Butterfield’s side doors open for a cluster of girls dressed like Peruvians, who, come graduation, will be hoping their facial piercings haven’t left visible scars and spending their disposable income oncrap pantyhose with the rest of us. I follow them down the stairs to Career Services, surprised to find the steps lined with camped-out students. The waiting area is still painted the color of something left in the ice-box too long, but now the wood laminate bookcases hold dusty brochures from companies whose hiring freezes have made the New York Times. Despite the discouraging decoration, the floor is packed with eager collegiate mushrooms gripping the same questionnaire I filled out three years ago. Climbing between them, I take my place on line for the service window.
‘Excuse me?’ I ask, leaning in towards a prim, matronly woman standing behind the counter, her tight pin-curls secured with a slim grosgrain headband.
‘Yes, dear, what time is your appointment?’ she smiles as she highlights the next name on her list. ‘Forgive us, but we’re running a tiny bit behind today.’
‘That’s okay, it looks like you have a lot going on.’
The woman smiles, dropping her hands to the desk. ‘Goodness, do we ever. If you’re in the two o’clock hour you might want to go around the corner. We’ve set up some hot cocoa.’ Yes, that’s exactly what this job search has been missing: hot cocoa. And heated dorm rooms, a meal plan, and dollar movies.
‘So, what time?’ she repeats, her pencil poised to check me off.
‘Oh, I don’t have an appointment …’ Pleaseoh-pleaseohplease.
‘Well, let’s get you set up.’ Thankyouthankyouthankyou. She pulls out a large calendar. ‘Time permitting,we take drop-ins on Wednesdays and Fridays for quick questions, but if you want to see the binders you can come back …’ She quickly flips several pages ahead. ‘How’s the twenty-first of March for you? Four fifteen?’
MARCH! ‘Actually, I came all the way up from the city today. I’m pretty familiar with the system, so if I could just poke my head in—’
Her expression quickens as she sighs through pinched lips. ‘You graduated.’
‘Yes, but only two years ago. I was hoping I could just take a peek—’
‘No. Absolutely not.’ She shakes her head, crossing her thin arms over her faded floral blouse. ‘We placed you. Your career was serviced. Our task is to get you out the door, but it’s your responsibility from there. Yet you alums come traipsing in here daily, thinking you can just storm the gates and we’ll roll out the red carpet.’
‘Okay,’ I regroup, ‘clearly you’re working very hard and I appreciate that it’s much busier than it ever was when I was here. And I’ve been doing everything I can, but I lost that job.’
‘Yes. I guessed as much. We’re only helping undergraduates now.’
‘But I was an undergraduate.’
She broadens her small shoulders. ‘And we helped you then. You had your shot.’
The waiting room swirls. ‘I did not. That was not my shot. That was a shot. A shot. One.’ She puffs up indignantly and puts a finger to her lips to shush me. I will not be shushed. ‘That “job” you folks set me up withwas with the boss from hell. From hell. I’m talking lying and stealing
Determined to leave with at least four solid job leads, I clomp across the grass towards Career Services, past students groggily clutching their plastic mugs of dining hall coffee. I hold one of Butterfield’s side doors open for a cluster of girls dressed like Peruvians, who, come graduation, will be hoping their facial piercings haven’t left visible scars and spending their disposable income oncrap pantyhose with the rest of us. I follow them down the stairs to Career Services, surprised to find the steps lined with camped-out students. The waiting area is still painted the color of something left in the ice-box too long, but now the wood laminate bookcases hold dusty brochures from companies whose hiring freezes have made the New York Times. Despite the discouraging decoration, the floor is packed with eager collegiate mushrooms gripping the same questionnaire I filled out three years ago. Climbing between them, I take my place on line for the service window.
‘Excuse me?’ I ask, leaning in towards a prim, matronly woman standing behind the counter, her tight pin-curls secured with a slim grosgrain headband.
‘Yes, dear, what time is your appointment?’ she smiles as she highlights the next name on her list. ‘Forgive us, but we’re running a tiny bit behind today.’
‘That’s okay, it looks like you have a lot going on.’
The woman smiles, dropping her hands to the desk. ‘Goodness, do we ever. If you’re in the two o’clock hour you might want to go around the corner. We’ve set up some hot cocoa.’ Yes, that’s exactly what this job search has been missing: hot cocoa. And heated dorm rooms, a meal plan, and dollar movies.
‘So, what time?’ she repeats, her pencil poised to check me off.
‘Oh, I don’t have an appointment …’ Pleaseoh-pleaseohplease.
‘Well, let’s get you set up.’ Thankyouthankyouthankyou. She pulls out a large calendar. ‘Time permitting,we take drop-ins on Wednesdays and Fridays for quick questions, but if you want to see the binders you can come back …’ She quickly flips several pages ahead. ‘How’s the twenty-first of March for you? Four fifteen?’
MARCH! ‘Actually, I came all the way up from the city today. I’m pretty familiar with the system, so if I could just poke my head in—’
Her expression quickens as she sighs through pinched lips. ‘You graduated.’
‘Yes, but only two years ago. I was hoping I could just take a peek—’
‘No. Absolutely not.’ She shakes her head, crossing her thin arms over her faded floral blouse. ‘We placed you. Your career was serviced. Our task is to get you out the door, but it’s your responsibility from there. Yet you alums come traipsing in here daily, thinking you can just storm the gates and we’ll roll out the red carpet.’
‘Okay,’ I regroup, ‘clearly you’re working very hard and I appreciate that it’s much busier than it ever was when I was here. And I’ve been doing everything I can, but I lost that job.’
‘Yes. I guessed as much. We’re only helping undergraduates now.’
‘But I was an undergraduate.’
She broadens her small shoulders. ‘And we helped you then. You had your shot.’
The waiting room swirls. ‘I did not. That was not my shot. That was a shot. A shot. One.’ She puffs up indignantly and puts a finger to her lips to shush me. I will not be shushed. ‘That “job” you folks set me up withwas with the boss from hell. From hell. I’m talking lying and stealing
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