Getting A Job,
A Story By Your Parents

 

 

You rise early, despite having gone to sleep late at 10 PM the night before. “Good morning, world!” you, their sweet daughter who they love and cherish, so talented the world is your frickin’ oyster, shout out your window as morning radio plays in the background. The world mirrors your enthusiasm.

You pick out a sensible outfit: a pair of slacks (everyone calls them slacks, that’s what they’re called) and a blazer with that kicky blouse your mom got you. She’s very thoughtful, and the blouse is a perfect balance of professional and fun, because you artsy types like to be a bit different and she knows that. She gets you.

You eat a balanced breakfast because you were listening when a very wise someone told you that was important. You make sure to drink some milk, because of your bones. You double-check that the oven is turned off, lock your front door, then head out into the world with the air of a soon-to-be Employed Person. Today you’re going to knock on some doors.

Heading into the city’s neatly delineated, easy-to-define “downtown” area, you think to yourself, glad I’m not here at night and will be able to take the subway home before dark. You’re Danger Aware. You’re also packing a hot Duo-tang full of printed resumes that do NOT include your Twitter handle because why would that be necessary? You are a Bachelor of the Humanities. You deserve this.

The first door you knock on is that of a Business Office. Everyone inside looks very respectable and stressed. They are thinking about their families and drinking coffee and one guy is making such a good joke, oh my god you should hear this joke, you wouldn’t believe it, he should be a comedian. Later when you try to tell the joke to your friends you will get lost somewhere around “so the duck says to the chicken,” go silent for a bit, and then just leave it. That’s fine.

You’re not sure where in The Office to go, so you ask the receptionist for help. She is young (forty) like you (twenty-three) so she gets what you’re going through. “Nice blazer,” she says, genuinely impressed. “Very work appropriate.” Everyone around you is wearing a blazer. This blazer is the best purchase you have ever made. The job is basically in the bag. “I’ve never smoked pot and there are no pictures of me drinking on Facebook,” you tell her. She looks like she might pass out.

Regaining her composure, she leads you to an area marked “Interview Space.” “We’re basically always hiring,” she says. “It’s so weird to me how few people go out knocking on doors. They just don’t know what’s out there!” You wait for a while and read exciting magazine articles about the warming planet. You’re not worried, and you’re not mad at your parents or their friends or the system. You’re not even thinking about sexting, which is what’s been holding you back from lucrative employment this entire time. Between thinking up clever hashtags, doing selfies, and photographing your genitals for just whoever, you haven’t had time to get a job. You’re not mad at yourself, just disappointed.

To pass some time in the waiting room you read an article about youth culture in the New York Times. It’s like looking in a mirror.

Finally, the Boss comes out of her office. “Right this way,” she says. She is also wearing a blazer, but you can tell hers is of a better quality. She probably listened to her mother when she said that it makes more sense to spend money on fewer items of clothing that are better made. Inside her office are the hallmarks of the life you want: a novelty mug, photos of her kids doing various activities requiring an upper-middle-class income, a motivational poster (advertisement for mortgages), and a landline.

“Great resume,” the lady boss begins. “Thanks!” you say, politely. You feel good because manners are their own reward. “And you’re on LinkedIn,” she says. “That’s good, very good. We can’t hire anyone these days without a LinkedIn profile.” You’re killing this. Could you be any more prepared? (That’s a reference to popular Matthew Parrish character Charnler Bing, from the show with the couch.)

“Wow, a university degree?” She raises her eyebrows, blazerlevel impressed, and makes some notes on her pad. “English language and literature? You might be over-qualified… ” You hold back on telling her about your minor in Roman history, lest she be overwhelmed. In a gesture of extreme interest, your future boss Leans In. She looks over your extracurriculars, tutting thoughtfully as she pictures the contributions such a talented amateur canoeist might make in a corporate setting.

The interview is zipping along nicely when you hit a snag. “It says here you stopped taking science in tenth grade,” the boss says, flipping through her detailed notes. “Why’d you shut that door?” You don’t have a good answer. You should have continued taking science, and you know it. “Mostly, I’m just eager to learn, and ready to do whatever you need. I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty, and I work well independently and as part of a team,” you say, with a poise and intelligence suggestive of a person who could have easily passed eleventh-grade science if only they’d applied themselves. The interviewer smiles.

 

 

“Well, of course you can have the job. All we’re ever looking for is a motivated self-starter who’s willing to take initiative,” she says. Normally, your millennial hands would be straining at the fingertips to avoid tweeting your good news, but even the sweet allure of Tweeter can’t pull you away from the joy you feel at this new position. “It’s a competitive salary, with full benefits, obviously, and a pension and full-time hours. You know, a job! That’s what a job is.”

After a quick handshake and a signed contract (which you read in its entirety), your new status as an employed person is secure. You’re heading out into the sunshine—putting your headphones in before you’re even out the door, that is so you— when the boss lady’s voice stops you in the hall. “Hey kid,” she says. “I think you’ll be needing this.” She takes off her blazer and throws it to you. “See you Monday. Wear that scarf your mother got you, it looks so good with your hair.”