It’s like going on fifty first dates within a single morning. You’re unemployed (lonely), inexperienced (clumsy in the sack and unsure of what you want), and desperate for approval.
Please love me! you say as you hand out that résumé. Tell me that I’m wanted and needed, and that I’m not like the others. Tell me that I’m not a waste of space, and that the fancy slip of paper with my name on it actually means something.
I kept the shorts and sandals at home and remembered to shave.
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Up to the first company I go. The recruiter’s wearing a shiny purple ribbon, with “ALUMNI” embroidered in gold. It’s like he’s saying hey, I’ve been in your shoes before. He speaks first.
“So, tell me what you do.”
I tell him. Thirty seconds, tops.
“Cool, we’ll put your résumé into the system.” He opens his hand for the handshake, but by the time our hands meet he’s already looking over my shoulder.
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There would be no second date for us.