Serving the campus of the University of Alabama since 1894

The Crimson White


Serving the campus of the University of Alabama since 1894

The Crimson White

Serving the campus of the University of Alabama since 1894

The Crimson White

My job hunt, or This bottle of Jack isn’t going to drink itself

Do I want a drink because I’m looking for a job, or am I looking for a job because I want a drink?

The school year is winding down. April presents itself with graduation, the last paper, the final column and, hopefully, a job.

Lately, I’ve seen news articles about companies beginning to hire more employees as the country pulls itself out of the recession. Can’t say I’ve noticed.

The word “jobs,” as it relates to newscasts and politicians, has always seemed like this abstract concept no one can actually quantify. There are more jobs. We need more jobs. The jobs left because they think you’re a deadbeat, and they’re not coming back this time, no matter how many times you call them “baby” and say you love them.

When I first started college, the talk was of how there just weren’t any companies hiring recent graduates. It was almost a relief — I had an excuse for my impending unemployment! Of course, it was also a hugely defeatist attitude not conducive to, you know, actually getting a job.

Now, it’s all about the increase in hiring, except it seems to only be in a specific industry. Don’t get me wrong, I’m elated AIG is hiring recent graduates in droves again, but that doesn’t do much for those of us not looking to end up in white-collar prison.

I kid. I don’t begrudge business majors — my best friend is one — but it is frustrating to be in an industry with a significantly less structured recruiting process. And by less structured, I mean somewhere between a Jackson Pollock painting and Somalia.

My specific track within my major is management, and I’m realizing all too late the absurdity of teaching an inexperienced college student management. If it were up to me, I’d get rid of the track altogether. I may hate film editing, but I bet I’d be in a much stronger position now if I had been forced to learn it rather than take a sequence that allowed me to skip all but the most basic elements of Final Cut Pro.

Which is my fault, largely, but a freshman can’t always be expected to make wise, rational decisions. If I once claimed junior year was for the mandatory existential crisis, senior year is almost certainly for the crippling regret most usually reserved for quarter-, mid- and seven-eighths-life crises.

I had to make a splatter painting for an Honors arts and crafts class I’m taking, and I really enjoyed it. It’s probably a good thing it happened now, because 18-year-old me would have definitely tried to incorporate abstract expressionism into some bizarre New College curriculum involving car customization.

Still, the activity reminded me that it’s really not all that bad (I guess). Careers don’t have to define who you are as a person. If it does, you’re probably a pretty boring person, anyway. Which isn’t to say I’ll be heading home and continuing my seasonal job as a baggage handler, but it also doesn’t mean I’m going to lose sleep if I take on work as a copy editor in Knockemstiff, Ohio, rather than as a production assistant at CNN in Atlanta.

Oh, who am I kidding? Grab a stool — I think I just convinced myself to have another.

 

John Davis is the chief copy editor of The Crimson White. His column runs on Mondays.

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