honey bunches of oats

Today, as I helped arrange and unpack the graduation cards in the land of golden crowns, I couldn’t help but think, One year ago, there were people out there incubating thoughts of soon-to-be graduates for whom they’d need to purchase cards. I was one of those graduates, I kept digesting. Last year, I made their lists. This year, I’m pushed to the back of the store, hoping someone (a benefits-providing, 401K-contributing, two-weeks-of-vacation-granting someone) will see the potential in me, even if I’m not the newest trend.

Adding to my dismay, every potential employer I talk with really “hopes for someone with experience.” Yes, they want experience. No, they don’t want experience in greeting card sales and toddler watching. Hence, calling my resume “sugar coated” is about as much of an understatement as is calling Martha Stewart “fairly handy with a glue gun.” Line after line of this fussy file is filled with experience in “Customer Service,” (cashier), “ESL Tutor,” (a requirement for a college class), and “Marketing Assistant,” (hanging retirement home flyers on doorknobs for my mom’s employer). Early on in the resume-crafting process I struggled with the notion of promoting myself via this highly shellacked parcel of my experiences.

Ten months out of college and little to show in my bank account, I’d be happy to tell you about the extensive understanding I have of customer care, Spanish-speaking immigrants, and the challenges of fieldwork marketing. I do believe that the class of 2009 has learned a lot from graduating in an economic sinkhole, namely, how to put on a good show.

Not all is lost, however. I’ve had more time than ever to soak up the beauty of the daytime, a precious gift so often forfeited to the isolated and sterile nine to five American work day. I’ve allowed myself to dream big, and consider it part of the job-hunting process (which it very well may be). I’ve also seriously considered and experimented with the ideas of being a gourmet cookie maker, a small business owner, an artist, a writer, and even a teacher (despite the fact that my degree says teaching was like, totally my original choice).

Although seeing these wishes of “Congratulations,” “You’re Headed for Success,” and “Now’s Your Time to Shine” was a harsh reminder of an unspoken deadline and a fresh set of job competitors, I don’t think cynicism is particularly becoming on anyone. Perhaps these cards are a faithful reminder from the Lord that I did complete seventeen years of education, with a Bachelor’s degree to boot—and that is a reason I can always choose to wear my party shoes and celebrate. The excitement and perseverance are still alive even if I know I’m not straight off of the runway. I have confidence that there are employers out there who know the value of a thrift shop find, a slightly shrunken hand-me-down, or even an overlooked steal from last season’s sale rack.