Post-Grad Panic Attack

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[Image: Books, oil lamp, bottle of wine, and grad cap lined up on a wooden table]. Source.
Here is a snippet from this month’s patron-only blog post. You can read the rest by becoming my patron here, for as little as $1:

If you were to take a look at my resume, you’d see a lot of variety. I’ve had A LOT of jobs. Some good, most not so good.

I’ve done retail, serving, coffee-making, tea-brewing, dishwashing, canvassing, cleaning, tutoring, babysitting…

A lot of minimum wage affairs.

Sometimes, after I quit a particularly rough job, I vow never to get another like it again. “THIS will be my last crappy, minimum wage position,” I say, “The next job I get will be a REAL job that pays decently and treats me well, that will lead to something more, that won’t be another customer-service dead-end”.

And then, for one reason or another, I end up in another don’t-pay-you-a-livable-wage, work-you-to-death position. I think everything is fine for a little while until I wake up and realize how it’s making my soul wither inside.

I am so over customer service, let me tell you. So. Over. It.

But my bank account isn’t. My bank account is SO OVER being a student and it’ll take whatever it can get.

And that’s the problem. I’ve been a student for so long, which means I, one, don’t have a degree to qualify me for a job I may actually want, and, two, am only available part-time, limiting my options to the kinds of jobs I keep swearing off of…

Read the rest of this entry here:


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