I don't have a job in Connecticut, but I really want a job in Connecticut. Let me be open and honest by admitting that I want a job in Connecticut because of a boy. I am not a stalker or anything. This boy knows I exist and we have been in a relationship for more than four years. We agreed that since he may be following me around the country in the next few years, I will leave my safe, benefit-providing, five-figure job in New Jersey to temporarily settle down in Connecticut.
I started my job search looking for adjunct teaching positions at two- and four-year colleges and universities. At this point, I will take almost anything. The job search, if you are not an electrician, nurse, holder of a doctorate in higher education or career secretary, is fascinating and frustrating. The fascinating part comes from the wide variety of jobs that — as the job search goes on and on — I am willing to consider.
The questions I ask myself are ridiculous and yet, I seriously consider them. Would it be so bad hanging off the side of a garbage truck at 3 a.m.? Would I be able to listen to music while serving food to elementary school children? How long would it take to learn Mandarin? Why does a 4-year-old in Greenwich need to learn Mandarin?
The frustrating part of the job hunt comes from the creation of an unwarranted sense of self. I scoff at my momentary lack of standards and remind myself that I have a master's in English. (Please stop laughing!) I have read thousands of books, analyzed complex journal articles, taught in a prison and plan to apply to doctorate programs this fall.
Well, guess what? I am still without a job in Connecticut. So thank you very much, George Orwell and all the other great writers on the path to my master's. An eerie feeling of mediocrity and ill-preparedness comes over me each time I check my e-mail and find nothing reassuring among the spam. Sure, I'd like three bottles of vanilla body wash for $10, but what I would love is an e-mail from an employer saying, "Come on in! We think you're great!"
The problem with my situation, and that of many people my age, is we are in transition. We feel too educated for menial, minimum-wage gigs, but we are not qualified enough to jump ahead three spaces and pass "Go."