Things were never supposed to be this way. Or maybe, rather, I never expected them to be this way. See, in the second grade, when most kids were dreaming about becoming astronauts, or firemen, or doctors, I was dreaming of becoming nothing. I was content to sit, to "vege," to loaf. Handball at recess? No thank you. Cub Scouts? I lasted a week before deciding the uniform made me itch. I've never had any impressive personal aspirations. And frankly, I'm fine with that.
But like I said, something's gone awry. In May, I graduated looking forward to a life of loafing, lunching, and smoking foreign cigarettes. But somewhere I was deceived. Somewhere I was conned. And now, as I write this, I'm basking in the glow of cheap fluorescent lights. You see, somewhere I was convinced to start working. I've been doing it for 63 hours, 22 minutes and 31 seconds. And I'm in shock.
In the past week and two days, I've been called "half a person." I've been forced to get people sandwiches. I've hung up on senators, thrice. But I endure. To be completely honest, the job isn't that bad. I write a lot. I blog. And when people ask what I do for a living, I get to say "think." Granted, this response has led to a number of interesting inquiries, most prevalent of which is "are you in the CIA?" I nod slightly and say I'm not at liberty to discuss it.
So there are ups and downs, which I was told to expect. For instance, I don't smoke at work. Cigarette breaks, I've found, are looked down upon in the world of file cabinets, computers, and conference calls. As a result, I can feel my much-loved addiction slowly waning. Although upsetting, this doesn't surprise me. Employment is a lot of things -- "hip" isn't one of them. But there's a give and take. I'm surrounded by televisions and am often able to convince my coworkers to turn up the volume during entertainment reports. (D.C. or not, "Jude Law Fucks Nanny!" still gets more attention than "Senate Passes Agriculture Bill!" Thank God.) And I'm remarkably informed. The Rove scandal? Fire the bastard. Unocol? China's buying out Uncle Sam. Daisy Wright? Jude Law snogged her eight ways to Sunday.
And so, undergraduates, my advice is this: be useless while you still can. The real world will smack you in the face like a bad Batman sequel and make you feel more inadequate than a virgin on prom night. So sleep late. Don't go to class. Smoke a pack a day. Because in less than a year, your loafing days will politely be told to grab their proverbial ankles by corporate America. Saddle up.