‘So what do you want to do when you finish University?’ the question that strikes terror into my soul every time it is asked. Up until recently I was honest with the majority of people that asked me, boring them with the details of my passion for writing and how one day I hope to be a well known journalist. However, I swiftly stopped divulging this information when it became apparent that this automatically transforms me into a subject of ridicule. ‘A journalist?!’ they’d laugh. ‘What do you want to be a journalist for? Awful pay, long hours, constant deadlines.’ So I am now trying a different approach.
How about telling everyone I want to be a model? An actress? A singing sensation? Unfortunately having reached the grand old age of 21, I am far too old to ever consider entering any of these fields, not to mention the fact I’d need a job just to finance all the cosmetic surgery I’d need to get myself through the door. ‘People prefer curves?’ Yeah, I heard that rumour as well. Apparently Simon Cowell and the bosses at Vogue don’t agree.
How about giving something back to the community? Doing my bit for the younger generations and becoming a primary school teacher? This is something I have previously considered, and I was told by numerous people how good I’d be (they clearly aren’t aware of my phobia of sticky fingers).The long holidays are just the kind of job satisfaction I look for, and getting a lunch hour, tea break and finishing at half past 3 every day really did appeal to me. My mind was swiftly altered when a young teacher came into a lecture to give us all a talk on the wonders of giving the gift of education. This 20- something trainee proceeded to inform us all how two boys in the class she was teaching had tied a piece of string between two tables either side of a walk way, then sat and watched while the she tripped over it, nearly cracking her head open on the concrete floor. Now, despite being very much in favour of the lengthy holidays, I would prefer a job where I can almost guarantee an injury free day. Maybe if the government introduce some sort of teacher’s injury insurance plan then I’ll reconsider. Until then, I think I’ll steer well clear of the 5 – 15 age bracket.
So if I can’t help the world by offering my worldly knowledge to the youths of today, maybe I’ll try healing the sick and wounded? Just call me the Florence Nightingale of the 21st century. Hold on though, don’t you need some sort of qualification to administer potentially harmful drugs these days? Something about a 4 year university course springs to mind. Not sure what all the fuss is about anyway, why on earth would you need to learn about all the different symptoms to help diagnose illness? Is that not what Google’s for? Despite my protests it would appear that I am hugely unqualified for a career in medicine, so I guess that’s another option to cross off the list.
So what else am I good at? What skills could I put towards building a career?
Previous ambitions included becoming a Princess, but since I’ve always preferred William, and he’s just got married, I think that career path may well need scrapping as well. Honestly though, I really think I’d have been an asset to the Royal Family, I’ve been practicing the wave since I was 9, and used to make myself a royal carriage out dining room chairs and bed sheets. So tell me William, what’s Kate Middy got that I haven’t?
To be quite honest, I really am out of ideas. Not that it would help me if I had any. The majority of graduates I know have been out of university for over 6 months now, and are still working in the same jobs they had when they were 16. The basic principle of getting a good education really does not seem to be enough anymore, with everyone who’s anyone having 73 work placements lined up in summer, a cousin who is best friends with the editor of a national newspaper and the Queen as a friend on Facebook. I guess my only option for now is to keep my dirty little secret of wanting to become a journalist to myself, and hope that bashing away at my keyboard every day will ultimately result in someone, somewhere finding me interesting enough to offer me a disappointing salary at a village newspaper that only 7 people buy. Here’s to hoping.
Until then, I think we could all take a leaf out of this guy’s book when it comes to imagination…