After checking my bank balance online, I decided it was time to take a rain check on purchasing the £40 Dress of Dreams™ I’d been fawning over for the past week.
After a month of returning home from university and turning down a job offer in China, I was slowly coming to terms with the fact that I had no current income. Six months ago, I wouldn’t have batted an eyelid about handing over forty of my finest English pounds to Zara – but six months ago, the lovely people of Student Finance Wales were there to help. The Dress of Dreams™ would have to wait.
This year, I’ve decided to take a gap year to earn some money before doing a masters. I was accepted to the first position I applied to, but ended up turning it down – my parents found the change of their only child being 160 miles away to 5000 miles across the world a little difficult. This decision all seemed well and good: I’d been able to get a 1:1, nab some freelancing opportunities, and spend some much needed time with friends and family instead of faffing around with documentation and language apps. “I’ll just get another job”, I thought. Oh how naive I was.
People weren’t lying when they said the job opportunities were all in the big cities. I’ve been scouring job sites on the daily in a desperate attempt to find a job that actually pays. For all the criticisms launched at millenials, nobody can fault us for the amount of unpaid work we do. Unfortunately, my hometown has never seemed smaller, and the only jobs available are in recruitment or serving at the new restaurants that have recently opened.
I’d tried to apply for jobs in marketing, grad schemes, or at my local university to no avail. After another post-interview rejection for a position that would have given me the opportunity to live in Italy for a year, I felt completely knocked, resulting in a public cry in the middle of Tesco. “I’m failing at everything“, I whined down the phone to my parents. If you think I was being dramatic and entitled, you would be correct. This was only the third position I’d applied to. Ever. But hear me out.
A few months ago, I wrote an article for my student paper about the unhealthily competitive atmosphere at my university, and the response it garnered felt like double-edged sword. I was overwhelmed by how many people related to the article, sharing it on their own social media accounts in agreement that the competition at Warwick had gone too far. Part of me felt glad that I’d said what a lot of people were thinking. On the other hand, if so many people felt as down about the competitive nature of university as I did, then something must be very wrong.
With the pressure to do well in all areas of life (not exactly helped by the brag-fest that is social media), it’s no wonder young people feel like failures when they face rejection. Whereas getting a good degree may have been the main pressure for students before, the need to find the perfect grad job/work experience/internship seems to have taken precedence.
Before the job rejections, I’d felt genuinely happy about my 1:1. It was a goal I’d set myself from the outset and one that I’d gone above and beyond to achieve. But that happiness and pride seemed to disappear in a flash once I returned home. My friends had somehow landed flashy grad jobs, and well-meaning but nosy distant relatives constantly interrogated me with the question all unemployed graduates dread: “Have you got a job yet?” It’s a question I’m asked nearly every day and every time I answer “No”, I can’t help feeling that, at the ripe old age of 21, I’ve failed at life.
The next few months are probably going to be the hardest thing I’ve done. Maybe even harder than GCSE maths. And it’s all because, not to brag here, but I’ve never really failed before. While scrolling through Twitter on a clearly productive streak (…) I stumbled across a tweet that made me genuinely laugh out loud and give myself a reality check:
It made me realise how stupid I was being. Like most ‘snowflake’, millennial graduates, I’d been told I was clever and capable my entire life. I got the highest grades, was put into the Oxbridge group in Sixth Form, and accepted into my dream university. Of course, this only happened with a ridiculous amount of hard work and hours pouring over textbooks, but it convinced me that if I worked hard, I could get exactly what I wanted. This, I quickly realised, is not the case, hence my Tesco breakdown.
So I’ve decided to use this year as a time to learn something new – cue swelling, inspirational music. Namely, how to fail. I’m sure plenty more rejections are coming my way, but that doesn’t mean my future is void of opportunities. I may not have skipped straight into a grad job, but I’ve managed to gain things I never thought I would. I’m starting a new (temporary) position at Mind, something I’ve wanted to do for ages. I’m about to get paid for my first published article and have just sent off another. In a few months, I’ll be spending a fortnight at The Times.
I may not be raking in the cash just yet, and the Dress of Dreams™ might have to wait for now, but it doesn’t mean I have nothing to look forward to. It certainly doesn’t warrant a public breakdown in a supermarket. What I’ve quickly come to realise, is that failing is ok. You don’t have to hide it, or construct elaborate lies to disguise it. Those who you really want in your life will support you, instead of gloating over your unemployment. And as for the other people? Screw them.
Beth Thomas 