This morning, I attended my first job fair. No matter how hard I try to avoid, I got to witness spunky PR members from various call center companies luring the innocent young minds of soon-to-be graduates. Oh, the nowhere accents of the sent agents just filled the waiting area. I did not particularly know why but my hands got clammy. It must be the summer heat that challenged everybody’s deodorant. Or something that I ate hours ago. Or it must be something else; something like the very first day I reported the different types of hog in front of a class back in elementary.
Fast forward to 9o’clock this morning, I suddenly found myself staring at a tarpaulin, a bunch of résumés at hand, and said to my companion: “it was really fast, noh?” All I got was a nod from him. Indeed, time went by in lightning speed that I was already reading one of the qualifications printed in the tarpaulin if I am willing to be assigned in different places across the country. Wow, when was the last time I stared or read at such notice? I cannot even remember.
At the same spot where I was sitting, I felt sad that I wouldn’t be reporting about the different types of hog any longer but would be facing a lot of its kind in a workplace someday. And I meant “sad” in the truest sense of the word. Work? Me, work? Jumping bullfrogs, I imagined I would be lounging by the beach, a glass of four seasons beside me, trying to get a tan while reading a book that’s not endorsed by Oprah!
It just dawned upon me that school ended—well, officially for us graduating students—but what’s next? Why was I attending this fair when I had already decided to rest, completely rest, for a month that would hopefully not become into five months? I do not know. I submitted two résumés to two hungry job employers and left.
As of the moment, what really matters to me is that on Sunday, March 22, I will be walking down the lane with something Latin called out with my name. Thank goodness, I made it.
Fast forward to 9o’clock this morning, I suddenly found myself staring at a tarpaulin, a bunch of résumés at hand, and said to my companion: “it was really fast, noh?” All I got was a nod from him. Indeed, time went by in lightning speed that I was already reading one of the qualifications printed in the tarpaulin if I am willing to be assigned in different places across the country. Wow, when was the last time I stared or read at such notice? I cannot even remember.
At the same spot where I was sitting, I felt sad that I wouldn’t be reporting about the different types of hog any longer but would be facing a lot of its kind in a workplace someday. And I meant “sad” in the truest sense of the word. Work? Me, work? Jumping bullfrogs, I imagined I would be lounging by the beach, a glass of four seasons beside me, trying to get a tan while reading a book that’s not endorsed by Oprah!
It just dawned upon me that school ended—well, officially for us graduating students—but what’s next? Why was I attending this fair when I had already decided to rest, completely rest, for a month that would hopefully not become into five months? I do not know. I submitted two résumés to two hungry job employers and left.
As of the moment, what really matters to me is that on Sunday, March 22, I will be walking down the lane with something Latin called out with my name. Thank goodness, I made it.
2 comments:
Congratulations fred jordan!!!
and good luck with the career hunting!!!
cum laude.
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