Funemployed

Why don’t the ones you want ever want you? This is not a rumination on men, though it could be and often is. This is a statement about my internship hunt.

It has taken a lot for me to share this struggle with y’all. More than anything I want people to perceive me as successful, so to go back on all those ideals and admit that I may be unemployed this summer is so not me. However, so rarely are we alone in our struggles. I hope this rings true to someone else, too.

I have been fishing for internships since September, when my friend Ferons alerted me that I should maybe start doing that. Previously, I had thought of unemployment as a theoretical issue, someone else’s problem. I was 12 when the housing market collapsed in 2008. I didn’t dream that we would still be dealing with the aftermath 8 years later, when I was finally seeking a big girl job.

To clarify, I am not unemployed in the sense that most people are unemployed. I will still have a place to stay and food to eat and *~* healthcare,*~* which is good because I am always sick. I am not at any risk of actual danger. I am just frustrated.

I have received a lot of rejection emails, and most of them were so positive that I was a little bit unsure if I was being rejected or proposed to, a la Chris and Ann Perkins from Parks and Rec. I’m not entirely sure the interviews I went on weren’t just a misinterpretation of an especially nice rejection email. A key component of a rejection email, I have learned, is the word unfortunately. Unfortunately, we have filled this position. Unfortunately, you do not meet our needs at this time. Unfortunately, we are not even hiring, we don’t know how you got this number, please cease and desist.

I could work at the pool, as I have in summers past, but last summer a man told me he wanted to put my feet next to his face all day. Later, I realized I only got paid 12 cents for that interaction– and that is a generous estimate– and that kind of killed the entire proposition for me.

Hopefully, this is not a period of unemployment, but rather underemployment, or perhaps, ideally, funderemployment,a term I have just coined for working a menial job but also pursuing interests that would have been neglected had I accepted an internship in my field. I’m hoping to keep practicing pilates, teach Smudge the cat to walk on a leash, read a book every day and grow tomatoes.

My aunt Kris once tried to grow vegetables in her garden. She said she had this idea of a kumbaya moment with her children in the garden, but she ended up dirty with a crying baby and a little weiner dog on the loose. I am fairly certain at one point this summer I will be dirty and sweaty (because it is regularly 102 with 75% humidity in Kansas in July and that’s why home prices are so cheap) and I will whisper fuck you, little tomatoes because I am naturally impatient and not a good gardener. At least I recognize that possibility.

I will have to work the rest of my life and I probably won’t have the time to get mad at my tomatoes. Just the other day, my mom asked Steven if he wanted to come with us to Orlando– she would by the ticket. But Steven is in his busy season at work, so he can’t come. If I ever turn down a free trip to Orlando, put out a hit on me. I mean, it’s good we have hardworking people like Steven as our nuclear energy risk analysts, but free time is undervalued.

That being said, if anyone in the finance, data analytics, or legal industries is looking for an intern, please hire me. I don’t value free time that much. 

Megan

P.S. Check out this fancy new layout. Moving up in the world.

P.P.S. Add me on LinkedIn