Post College Life

When you are a kid, you don’t work; at least until you’re 15 and your parents tell you that “if you want to see that movie (concert, Disney on Ice, monster truck rally, etc.), you’re going to have to pay for it yourself.” Pay for it myself? HA! That means…..you have to get a job. Usually, when you are a kid (high school age), this job consists of renting videos to jerks who don’t understand that they come out on Tuesdays, or delivering papers to jerks who have their sprinklers set to come on right as you’re walking up to put the paper on their doorstep. But this is all just child’s play when it comes to post graduation (high school or college) work. Oh yes.

Once you have graduated with your 5^th master’s degree in ancient roman philosophy, get ready for 50 years of indentured servitude to THE MAN. Yep, that’s right: THE MAN. You know who THE MAN is: that fat guy in a $3,000 suit smoking a Cuban cigar in his corner office overlooking Central Park. And who are you? You, of course, are the peon. That is pronounced pee on, and I think it’s because that is pretty much what THE MAN does to you…remember it flows downhill. All THE MAN cares about is that you have a degree in something, even if it is ancient roman philosophy.

Let me tell you about my post college experience: I got a BS in Psychology from Brigham Young University. I thought about going into a Master’s program at Cal State Hayward in Child Psychology; I even scored an interview with the department chair. I was rejected for the program, but upon further contemplation I was relieved at this rejection: did I really want to sit and listen to people complain all day, especially kids? I have enough problems of my own: I don’t really want to get paid to listen to other people’s issues.

Step 1 of many people’s post college experience begins with a horrible, horrible thing: moving back in with your parents. Why do we do this? Because, while college has filled our minds with many interesting, albeit useless, facts, no one pays us to go, and so we have no money for rent. Our parents begrudgingly take us back in, and we go just as begrudgingly, because we know, that even if we are 50 years old, we are still our parents’ child, and they are going to treat us as such. After having lived on your own for four years, you do not want your mom telling you that there are starving children in Ethiopia who would gladly eat those brussel sprouts.

Now, once you are all settled down with mommy and daddy again, you decide that you cannot stay there for long, so you need a job. The best part of this is that your parents have decided the same thing, and they will hound you everyday about getting a job. They will say such things as “How is the job hunt going,” or “Did you have any interviews this week?” Then, they will also ask you why you picked such a useless major. “I don’t know why you have a Master’s degree in ancient roman philosophy. You should have majored in civil engineering; I bet ALL the civil engineering majors have found jobs by now,” they will say. But keep at it: if you’re lucky, you will find a job within a couple weeks, but if you are like most people, it will take you several months. Of course, with that Master’s in ancient roman philosophy, you can get a sweet job as an administrative assistant to THE MAN. That is, of course, if you can also speak 5 languages and type 300 words per minute.

Once you have landed your cushy job with THE MAN, you start to think how great it is to be earning a ton of money. I mean, you’re living with the ‘rents and you don’t have to pay them a dime in rent, so you feel like you are the richest buster on the block. Then, you get a reality check: your parents are giving you one month to get the heck out of their house. So, what do you do? You scramble to find some friend who is also just out of college whose parents are kicking them out, and you say, “Dude, we should move in together.” You and your friend go apartment hunting, and that’s when you realize that you aren’t the richest buster on the block, you’re just a buster. So, you finally find some two-bedroom, 1-bathroom rathole on the seedy side of town that you can afford. Shortly thereafter, you and your best friend (who has a doctorate in civil discourse and works as a bank teller) move out. You are totally on your way!

Oh yes, the first year after college can be great fun…so many changes, so many reality checks. This is only part one in my continuing series on life as a grownup. Being a single young adult has its upsides and its downsides, and of course, I am going to share some of mine with you. Perhaps you will be able to relate to some of these experiences, and maybe even learn something. I hope you will continue reading and enjoy, because I am SO qualified for this. Trust me; I’m an accountant with a psychology degree.