My last semester of college could only be described with one word: torture. Between taking 20 credits including those last minute gen-eds like Bio101 that I’d put off for the last three years and countless hours of practice on top of classes and papers, I barely had time to think. Just to make things more interesting, my normally good health turned on me suddenly. I caught every cold and flu that came along, resulting in frequent trips to the ENT to get cameras shoved down my throat to check on the fragile state of my vocal chords. I began to live for those few minutes each day before I fell into bed, when there were no assignments to think about, no one to communicate with, just one glorious thought: soon this will all be over. And then…then I would be a member of the real world. Then I could get a job—a job with real money where I wouldn’t have to scrape to pay rent—a job that would allow me to go out with friends and not worry about springing for a glass of wine with dinner. I would finally be a real adult! In control of my own life! In control of my finances! No borrowing money semester after semester…I’ll be able to pay my own way! Freedom from classes and practice! Just a normal everyday life: off to work at 9, home at 5, no stupid assignments to worry about, no more papers (in your face Bio101)! Granted, a bachelor of music may not be the best degree to make me a successful candidate for job of the year, but a degree is a degree, right?

After those torturous long months of waiting, May 2 rolled around and I was given that little piece of paper to attest to all that hard work. That piece of paper that says: now you can join the working world. With a bachelor degree under my belt I hungrily turned to job ads, ready to start my new life. I knew with a poor economy it was going to be difficult, but I wasn’t being picky. I was going to take what I could get and work my way up.

May and June passed with no potential employer bites. Okay, I thought, so maybe I have to update the resume, widen my search a little bit. I might be shooting a little high by only applying for jobs in my dream location. I could start out somewhere else and move to Oregon when I’ve saved up some money. I began shooting off resumes online to every entry-level position I might be qualified for, and still weeks passed and no one was knocking down my door, desperate for a young, creative, recent college grad. Just when the days spent in front of the computer were starting to feel really worthless, it came. I clicked on my Inbox and there it was: an e-mail inviting me for an interview. Woohoo! So, it wasn’t the job of my dreams. In fact, working in sales or claims for a car insurance company sounded more like the job of my nightmares, but I wasn’t about to be picky. Get my foot in the door; work up to management, who knows? Despite the shortcomings of the job, I was psyched. Once they met me face to face, saw my excellent college GPA, how could they turn me down?

The day for my interview arrived and, sporting my most businessy looking outfit, I drove out to the main office, arriving ten minutes early just to make a good impression. I walked up to the main desk where a semi-disgruntled looking employee sat and informed him I was there for my interview. With a sigh, as if telling me was really taxing him he said, “Sign in over there. Then fill out the papers attached to one of those clip-boards.” I followed in the direction he motioned and sure enough there was a sign in sheet that looked like it came from a doctor’s office waiting area. Unfortunately, it also had as many names as a doctor’s office sign in sheet. That’s ok, I told myself, not everyone they interview can be qualified for the job. I grabbed a clipboard and took my seat in the waiting area, perusing the questionnaire I was supposed to fill out. Again I tried to boost my confidence…I just need to give good answers to these questions and I’ll probably already be ahead of half the people on the list.

Question 1: Why are you interested in working in the insurance business? Ummm…I’m not, you’re the only people who would give me an interview and I’m desperate. I wrote: I have many years of experience in customer service and would like to begin a career with the possibility for advancement.

Question 2: If offered a job, how long do you intend to stay with our company?
Ok. This has to be a trick question. They’re looking for someone who is obviously committed to staying there for some period of time, but they can’t possibly take anyone seriously who blatantly lies. I would like to work in auto insurance for the next fifty years. I ended up writing 5 years, not too few but not too many to seem like a complete lie.

Question 3: How do you feel about working in a call center? Who the hell comes up with this stuff? How does anyone feel about working in a call center? Oh yes, I would love to sit in a little cubicle all day, with a head-set glued to my ear while being yelled at about insurance claims…In fact it’s my dream job! I wrote: I look forward to the opportunity to work in a challenging and fast paced environment.

I finished the questionnaire and handed it to the man at the front desk. Whew, now I just have to wait to be called back. Little did I know, the questionnaire was only the beginning. Just as I sat back down, the man at the desk called to me, “OK, they’re ready for you in the testing center.” Momentary panic, the testing center? I have to take a test? Ok, this can’t be that bad. Anyone can sell car insurance. He pointed to another door where my initial screening test would be administered. As I entered a room that reminded me of my high school computer lab, another employee approached me. She was a bit nicer than the first, but handled everything with a cool business-like demeanor. She told me which computer to sit at and handed me a sticky note, “This is your user name and password to log on to our system. When you log on your test screen will load. Before each test you’ll get a set of directions. Make sure you read the directions and familiarize yourself with the application. When the test begins it will be timed and you can’t re-do any mistakes. It’s sometimes a little overwhelming, so stay calm and do the best you can.”

Hah, a little overwhelming was the understatement of the century! As the application loaded I quickly scanned the directions and began clicking around the different screens. It was set up like a mock call center…different tabs for sales, service and claims and a pretend inbox where I would receive calls and e-mails when the test started. The directions had warned: fill in as much information as you can and submit each claim before it times out. As my first test began a large clock appeared in the corner of the screen like a ticking time bomb: 4:00, 3:59, 3:58. Then on the opposite side of the screen my first “call” appeared. I clicked on it and was surprised by the rapid-fire list of details I was supposed to be filling in on a claims form. I scrambled to get to the right tab and started filling in the policy number when another call popped up on the screen and then an e-mail, each with their own little timer counting down 10 seconds before they timed out. I was still struggling to fill in the first claim when the second call timed out. Shit! I raced to submit my half filled in form and continue before I lost anything else. It was the longest four minutes of my life. When the clock counted down to two minutes I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. Calm down, you can handle this! No person in the entire world could fill these in fast enough. I continued through three more similar tests, feeling exhausted and grumpy when all was said and done. The same woman who had given me my password came out of an office attached to the computer room, “Congratulations, you passed.” Suddenly my exhaustion faded and my self esteem buoyed. I headed back out to the reception to await my real interview.

After what felt like hours of waiting a woman emerged from the back behind the reception desk. “Jessica” she said without looking up, “follow me.” If the man at reception was cold, this woman was the ice queen. She held the door open for me and followed at a distance that suggested I was carrying some infectious disease. Her directions were rapid fire and at a level just quiet enough that I had to ask her to repeat herself several times. I felt like I was on my way to my execution. I’ve been more comfortable walking into a gynecological exam than I was to this interview. When we reached her office, she again said something at a level just under my ability to hear, but feeling her frustration at my constant request for her to repeat herself I just turned and smiled. As I entered the office I noticed there was a space wide enough between her desk and the chairs facing it for a small chasm. As I sat I scooted a few inches closer to avoid the hearing problems I’d had on the walk over and looked up to see a piercing glare, “I told you not to move your chair.” I quickly scooted the chair back against the wall, “Oh I’m sorry, I guess I didn’t hear…” All I got in return was an icy stare. I was thoroughly shaken. With a sigh she sat down and began to look over my application file. I tried to regain composure and did my best to provide the answers I thought she wanted to hear. Mid describing how I wanted a career with room to advance to management, she looked up from her papers and peered at me over the frames of her glasses with a look that said: you must be joking. That was the last time she looked at me during the interview, furiously scribbling on her papers as I attempted to answer each question. Before I knew it she said, “Well, that will be all. We will contact you if we wish to pursue your application. If not, you’ll receive a letter in the mail.” As I left the office I tried to encourage myself; they probably have to be cold to everyone. Right? After all they can’t show partiality. Once they review my credentials I’m sure they’ll call me. I didn’t feel completely better until I returned to my apartment and consumed a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.

Sure enough, two days later I received a letter in the mail. Thank you for your interest, but…blah blah blah. Well, one interview down and…wait I don’t have any more to go! That was the only thing close to a job offer I’ve had in two months! Time to stop kidding myself. This is the real world? I can’t even get an interview, and when I do it feels like boot camp! Life never looked this difficult from the other side of the undergraduate fence! Almost three months since I stepped off campus and I’m broke and running out of options. I shouldn’t even think it, let alone say it, but sometimes…just a little bit I wonder if I preferred my torturous semesters of college? Wait! What am I saying? I’m not that desperate…yet!