Currently, I’m unemployed. But someday—preferably today—I will get a job. And when I do, boy howdy, look out world.
When I get a job, I will do such tremendous work that everyone who did not hire me will be filled with regret.
When I get a job, I’m going to reach out to all those people I’ve been meaning to call. And when they ask me if I found a job yet, I’ll give them an answer that doesn’t make me dislike myself enough to not call.
When I get a job, I’m going to be a real person again. I’m going to be so fulfilled. I know you all tell me that I don’t need a job to be fulfilled and that I shouldn’t base my self-worth on my career success, but I know that you’re lying, and once I’m employed again we won’t have to pretend anymore.
When I get a job, I will have a brand-new wardrobe to match my brand-new job. I’m not sure where all these new clothes will come from, but most likely Olivia Pope’s closet. Also I will do my hair and makeup everyday. Also I will learn how to do my hair and makeup.
When I get a job, I will make so many friends. We will balance professionalism with telling each other everything. Our career ambitions will differ enough that we never compete for the same promotions.
When I get a job, a five-year plan will materialize on my desk in a manila envelope.
When I get a job, I will spend more of my time wisely because I have less of my time to spend freely. I will love running errands when I have only a few hours between work and bedtime. Grocery shopping will cease to be stressful. Laundry will be my heart’s one true desire.
When I get a job, I will be the person I always thought I would be. She has eluded me so far, but this time, she’ll come around.
UPDATE: I got a job.
When I opened my closet on the first day of work, miraculously, all my clothes looked the same as before.
When I got to my desk, I looked around for a manila envelope, but apparently my five-year plan hasn’t been printed out yet.
When I checked my email, no recruiters wanted to let me know that they changed their mind about not hiring me.
When I shook hands with my new colleagues, no one asked if I was available for best friendship or any intense bonding experiences.
When I went to the grocery store after work, my feet ached in my not-comfortable, not-new shoes. I’m not sure I remember what laundry is anymore.
When I look in the mirror, I still don’t see the person I always thought I would be.
I’m starting to think I don’t want to be her anyway.
Catherine Kramer (’14) has a degree in English and works in publishing. Her continued existence is made possible by grace, warm hugs, and iced chai lattes.