My First Paycheck

I worked through college and kept that job the summer after I graduated, thinking I wouldn't be able to get a gig otherwise with them knowing I was about to leave again for more school ... then plans changed.

My first post-school paying gig was coffee shop barista. I made more than minimum wage until the state decided that a "living wage" was higher than $5.15 and in fact, higher than what I was being paid. Which was true.

The tips were shitty but I was excited just to be making my own money. It meant being on my feet six hours straight, dealing with snotty and strange customers and co-workers that didn't shower. Some that started conversations with me about all of their tattoos and related stories of how when she moved into her grandmother's house grandma left grandpa in the closet. (His ashes were bagged, sealed and stashed on the top shelf.)

The owner was psycho. He was about 5'4" and a body builder. Yep. He didn't much like coffee shops, his wife hated them, but he was an "entrepreneur" which meant he was going to put up with the pain, bitch at us and end up fat and rich. Which might have happened if he hadn't laid off the manager (too expensive) and told the senior barista on duty to do the books whenever they were on. That's when I quit. I didn't sign on to be your manager and I was most certainly not going to get yelled at when your books got screwed up because you had eight different people doing them at once! (I'm serious, there were eight of us editing one spreadsheet.)

While the manager was still there I had a good time. He was easy going and had a similar sense of humor. And in general was a good guy. The kind of person who you actually wanted to work for because he understood that life happens and he didn't take it out on us. Oh, and unlike the owner-boss-guy, he didn't state the good/bad in terms of male/female genitalia. Yeah.

I can still make pretty awesome espressos, cappuccinos and lattes though. And I'm an expert in what coffee grind to use given your machine and filter. Oh and if you ever find coffee that is Tanzanian Peaberry - buy some! I think it's better than anything that starbucks brews (too dark and often too bitter if you're not careful) and even better than Kona coffee. Other than the fact that Kona is the only US grown coffee (yea Hawai'i!) I don't see what the big deal about the Kona coffee is.

Just now do I finally have a job that allows me to buy into a health care program, and that's being a sub-teacher/sub-secretary for a public school. I also have a 401(k) for some of my measly earnings to roll into. The coffee shop sure as hell didn't offer any of that. You had to work 40 hours consistently in order to qualify with that coffee company (Starbucks at least has a better corporate ethic and lets anyone buy in). And, lo and behold, no one was allowed to work seven days straight, therefore, at most you could work six six-hour shifts ... and clock out right under the moment when they had to offer you benefits. Bravo, bravo, dirtbags.

A Job? What's that?

Oh, the first job after college. Then there's the notion that there are jobs, and "real" jobs. There's pay the rent jobs and why am I here jobs and this is soooo not worth it jobs. But all of them come with the feeling of cash falling into your hot little hands.

And how on earth does one find and obtain that "real" job in the Real World without experience and without a relevant degree. You can always be an Enterprise Rent-A-Car manager, they hire right out of colleges and I have a girlfriend that does just that. However for many of us the term "business manager" never appealed. So we went after other jobs.

Tell me about the first place you worked after college. Tell me about the job searching. And why you're no longer at that first place you worked after college.

Grad School: um, why?

Contributor: Speak Coffee

I'm going to do one more grad school post -- I know, shoot me -- because I realized for all my ranting I never said why I wanted to do any of this.

Why? Because I'm desperate. I've already failed once by convincing myself I wanted to do something with my life that would have been akin to wearing leeches everyday. Now that I've figured out that it's better to live a dream than to wade through pudding (I love mixing metaphors, can you tell?) I have to actually find a way to dream and live.

It's true, very true, that you do not need a degree to write. Or to be published. Or to have the next bestseller. It's also true that you don't need a degree to be president of the United States but I'm going to bet that getting one will help.

MFAs in writing are about having the time to devote to writing (often funded though not always so) and about making connections with people in your field. Writing can be lonely and reclusive, so unless you're part of the NYC literary scene it's likely that college is the only way you'll ever meet a "community" of writers. MFA programs are also about becoming painfully aware of your writing. All the workshops and classes and discussions I've had already have been greatly helpful for peeling off the layers and letting me see what is holding up the writing. In fact, unless it's incredible writing, I'm starting to see through books to how they were put together. It's interesting - but it's also upsetting in that I almost don't enjoy the reading as much as if it had appeared effortless to me.

I've read advice from successful writers who have barely gotten through high school, and listened to them bash education and degrees as "experts" who are worthless opposed the the poor hard working "practitioners." All I can say is don't bash it til you've tried it. I never would have caught the spark or the passion or learned as much as I have if I hadn't been in school and I hadn't had someone teach me. I'm a human interaction kinda girl.

But writing is writing, and as much as I love it, it's only one of the things I want to do. I want to get the gig teaching writing. And to do that attached to any university (please let me know if there's stable teaching gigs that don't involve universities or sitting around my kitchen table) I need the credentials. Actually, I think I need the credentials even if it is around my kitchen table. I know I certainly wouldn't sign up to work with and listen to a woman who didn't have at least a masters and didn't have publication.

So I'm going to do this because I've spent the past two months writing and I've loved it. I've nearly got a crappy first novel complete (it's crappy so don't expect to see it in stores but it has taught me a lot). And I've been working on short fiction that I love (I'll let you know if you should expect to see that out in the world). And I've been happy doing it! So happy finally! Happy being me. Happy with how I spend my time. Happy with what I've produced. And my only depression had to do with the shortest month of the year never ending (grey skies at 18 degrees can suck it).

I want to keep doing this and I'm not afraid to work hard for it.

The advent of Ph.D. programs in creative writing is a relatively new thing. It's an English degree program but instead of having a focus area of literature and writing a thesis on that, the creative writing thesis is a full length publishable project, either novel or short story collection. I've wanted to be a doctor for so long! (Read: about when I was 13.) I just never knew what would study.

Paralith mentioned that there's so many of us waking down this path of craziness, and it seems like it when we're all battling for spots in programs, but when it comes down to it there's really not that many of us. n According to Wikipedia, only 3% of Americans ever earn a Ph.D. 8.7% a Master's Degree and 27% Bachelors Degrees. (2005 statistics) Obviously there's some overlap in those numbers.So I wonder how that compares to other kinds of crazy. Like I wonder what percentage of Americans make and use homemade ammunition. Because that would also count as crazy.

Grad School: My mind is telling me no, but my body is telling me...well...no.

Contributor: City Girl

In September of 2007 I began researching grad schools for...well...I wasn't really sure what, actually. I was looking into schools that I thought I could stand going to, in fields that didn't make me want to gouge my eyes out with a spork. Truth is, I was at a loss and I thought the only way to find my way was to go back to school. And somewhere in the background my father was doing the happy dance of a parent whose child had decided to give up acting and pursue a "real" career. He was hoping for business school. My grandfather was hoping for law school.

I was hoping for a paying job that didn't make me look or feel like a moron, with decent benefits on the side.

I'm still not positive I don't want to go to grad school, but I do believe that it is not necessary in every field in the world today...in a lot of cases work experience and making connections are more valuble.

Plus, well, SHEESH it's pricey.

I was raised in a household (and community) where a great deal of emphasis was placed on the importance of education, so it was never even a question in the deepest recesses of my mind that I would attend college. After that, I just wasn't sure.

And I'm still not sure.

And next year I probably still won't be sure.

But sweet jeebus I hope I at least have that steady-paying job with benefits by then.

Oh, and my grandfather called the other day to ask how long the lease on my apartment was...because what if I need to leave to go to grad school???

Oh, siiiiggggghhhhh. To be able to make everyone in my family, including myself, happy and proud of my accomplishments in life...that would be nice.

Grad School: Terror of Terrors, Causer of Crankiness

Contributor: Paralith

I've decided to blame my recent bout of grumpiness on the PhD programs to whom I sent many a hair-pulling hour's worth of work in the form of applications. Last week I was downright mean, as I had come to the realization that I had been telling people ever since the beginning of the year that I expected to start hearing from places around the end of February, and that the end of February was fast approaching sans any of the expected communications. Fortunately, the University of New Mexico came to the rescue of those who have to live and work with me on a daily basis, and granted me acceptance on February 28th.

I was euphorically happy for about two days and now I'm grumpy again. I'm still happy with the U of NM offer of course, but there are still four other programs that have left me in the lurch. I still can't make any final decisions, any final plans. Heck, I'm nervous to even schedule a visit to New Mexico without knowing if I'll also have to schedule visits to other schools. I'm still waiting, and it's driving me bonkers.

For now I'm sating myself by trawling the various online grad app communities, eyes peeled for any mention of my programs. (I won't resort to joining the hordes of people who are likely emailing, calling, and otherwise highly irritating the administrators of their uncommunicative programs - at least, not for another week.) Just looking for mention of the school is no good of course, as every program within the same school has its own specifics of timing. So far I've found no relevant mention save for one person saying they were accepted into my program at Cornell - almost two months ago. I assumed that meant I was rejected, yet - you'd think they would have told me by now. As Speak Coffee quoted of me, I think - I hope - that this must mean my application has at least survived a round or two of culling at my four remaining programs. If nothing else, thinking of it in these terms makes the wait slightly more bearable.

The sad part is, this is really just the beginning of the horror, the tip of the iceberg, if you will, of the graduate school experience. Once I'm in, a whole new world of stress and pressure and worry and self-esteem-wilting opens up. This is to say nothing of the logistical nightmare of moving to a new place that will necessarily precede my graduate education.

One might ask how on earth I and so many others can willingly dive into this process, knowing full well the pain and suffering that are involved. And to be honest, I'm not quite sure either. Part of it is of course thinking about the fun, exciting parts, but that's not enough to get you through the daily grind. Part of it is the resigned acceptance of the fact that this experience is a prerequisite for your career plans and, hopefully, future happiness. Part of it, for me, is flat out denial until the last minute. At this point, I'm not going to waste a single second dwelling on the difficulty that lies ahead. Nope. Not at all. I'll cross that damn bridge once I get there. Just worrying about getting in at all is enough for now.

And for the rest - well - I think you have to be a little bit crazy. Part of you has to want this pain, this suffering, this difficulty, has to want to claw and fight your way through it and in the end come out victorious - bloodied, exhausted, but victorious nonetheless. I think you need at least a little bit of that spirit within you, or you may very well become swamped.

So my fellow monkeys, if it's grad school you want, then swagger right up to that giant beast, bare your teeth, and go for its throat. Besides, if your friends and family truly love you, they'll put up with your crankiness and the occasional growl uttered in the direction of the computer screen while browsing a school's website. And your coworkers - well, if they don't like it, they can work somewhere else.

"I think if we haven't heard by now we have to have made it through the first and maybe even the second round of rejections" -- Paralith

Hmm. That's hopeful at least.

It's a double edged sword in some ways. I want to know. But then again I'd rather not hear "no's." Now I have to wonder is not hearing good? Does that mean that I'm still in the running? Does it mean that I'm basically waitlisted, only they're not telling me until they have a better idea of acceptances who intend to enroll? If I am in wait list limbo which way will I go when I escape it? Will escape result in a "sorry, but no?"

In my case at least Paralith's statement strokes my ego. Not immediately rejected! Yea! There's a reason that I haven't heard! ... maybe.

Gotta keep waiting.