“I’m not sure you’re $130,000 smarter…”
Says my boss the other day in discussing how much I just paid for my college education. I looked at him incredulously for a moment, trying to shame him into feeling badly about his insult while stalling for time so that I could think of a clever comeback. Apparently I had evicted all of my clever comebacks and leased the mental space to information about the Peloponnesian War and so I had to resort to rolling my eyes at him before walking away.
This is actually pretty typical of my interaction with Mark. He attempts to provoke me with an insult so blunt my brain short circuits in trying to respond and I half smile and walk away briskly. Somehow, Mark got it into his head that I’m “badass” though, so actually, my lack of response works to my advantage. I’m pretty sure he just ends up thinking I’m cooler than him.
Unfortunately, Mark’s annoying little comment weaseled its way down through my cerebellum. It really didn’t have to weasel much. The way is paved with my heightened sensitivity about the future now that I’ve graduated and have no idea what I want to do next.
On the upside, I do have a real job. For the last year, when I haven’t been kicking and screaming my way through the last classes of my undergrad degree, I’ve been working at a shop that restores really important vintage European racecars for rich people. The title I get to give myself on my resume is “Administrative Assistant to the Vice President.” The Vice President is Carrie, Mark’s wife and I administratively assist her in making sure that things run smoothly in Mark-town so that the Ferraris and Porches run well and look shiny, which is actually an enormous amount of work.
Basically Carrie and I spend our days running around like crazy women trying to get impossibly rare parts that were supposed to be here yesterday to arrive no later than tomorrow. This means we spend silly amounts of time on the phone trying to coerce old men in
And while there is a certain amount of gratification involved in all of this, and while I know that some people would kill a puppy to hang out with some of the cars I walk by everyday, I know that this is not a long term plan for me.
The tricky part is that I don’t really have any other solid plans in the works, per se. I’m still getting used to the idea that I am even employable. I graduated last month from college with a double major in Communication Arts and French, and quite frankly, I have no idea what that makes me qualified for. Usually when I tell people my majors, they say something like “Oh great! So you can communicate in French!” People who say this think they are being funny and generally seemed pleased with themselves for being so clever to make this connection. It mostly makes me want to go Mike Tyson on their asses and rip off some ears and this worries me that I am becoming a mean, angry person.
There are no “communicating in French” positions on the horizon as of yet and I wonder about Mark’s irritating comment about the money I just shelled out, and will continue to shell out for my education as my damn loads come due.
I would feel a little better about my situation if I had some idea about what I want to be when I grow up but as yet I do not know and I’m actually not sure I’m $130,000 smarter either.
Maybe it’s because I am in this time of transition right now as I plot my next move, but I feel like I am on a layover on what is turning out to be a very expensive trip. I’m one of those travelers who relishes a good layover too. Some people hate the interruption and wish they could fly non-stop, but I like to stop and look around. You get to hang out in a bright, shiny airport and eat $15 airport turkey sandwiches while you people watch and read trashy magazines. I’m always in a good mood waiting for my next plane because I know I am going someplace I want to be. I guess the difference in my current situation is that I don’t know where I’m headed. For now, I am just going to relax and pay attention.
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