Life After Graduation

That is it. It is done. Over. Caput. You have graduated. After five years of sorrow, deadlines, super hectic timetables, loveless love life, meaningless jobs, sleepless nights, tasteless meals, moneyless wallets, and sugarless coffee, you finally made it. Now it is the time of your life, the time for you to shine, earn money, and go to an expensive holiday somewhere with an exotic two-word name.

HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA and AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

What a load of cr*p. Let me tell you how it works: you are fucked up. Always. Constantly. All the time. After graduation, the only thing you do is stare at the screen of your laptop to send an uncountable amount of CVs to an uncountable amount of companies which offer you jobs named after non-sense groups of words. “Graduate something trainee;” “Entry level something;” “Language speaking something executive;” “Something marketing something.” When they call you back, IF they call you back, you do not even remember what you applied for, how much time ago it was, and which company is that you are speaking to. You spend your days trying to figure out how many months you can still pay for the tiny flat you are living in, sharing a Netflix account with other three broke people, telling your parents you are doing fine while having tuna and Tesco basmati rice for dinner. Again. Basically, you are still a student, still one of them, even four months after they told you, you were not one anymore. Where the hell is the Dubai they promised me? Oh, someone is actually out there, yeah, look at their Instagram! It is exactly how it should be: sunny, hot, people surfing, shining sand. What a paradise. And guess who is there? Yes, your friend from high school who never went to Uni. And that guy from your hometown who never read Peace & War. And that bloody girl who sells clothes next to your mother’s house. Here they are, not giving a shit about Brexit, or the increase of nationalism, or the lack of opportunities for young people, or the North Korea’s president speech for the New Year. They are bloody happy. And yes, maybe they are not and it is just the IG filter, BUT FFS THEY ARE IN THE FUCKING DUBAI SURFING AND DRINKING MARGARITAS NEXT TO THE OCEAN I BET THEY ARE AT LEAST A BIT HAPPY.

Why did we go to Uni? Why? Why did not we enroll in a cooking class? Or a golf course? Based on the number of crappy meals we had, that would be more useful and healthier, really. And no, dear Indeed, I do not have five-year experience in administration, ‘cause guess what? During the last five years, I have been trying to get a bloody piece of paper called “degree.” Of course, I can administrate five exams in one semester without calling a psychologist, or I can show you how to learn three languages without having to cry every couple of hours, or I can tell you how to write 3000-word essays in four days, but nope, I do not bloody have your bloody five-year administration experience. I did some work too, clearly, but sorry if I could not be a receptionist in a five-star hotel in the city centre of Milan, but only in a small seaside hotel, you know, I was kinda busy learning how the international market works, how multiculturalism is failing, how the labour market has been distorted by the global financial crisis, and how it is important to master a certain knowledge of pragmatics in order to have a successful conversation with another human being. Yes, the latter is my favorite. You know why? Because thanks to this, you listen to the stupid things that people say, to the absolute and binary opinions they have and you know that you may not have a job, you may not be in Dubai, and you will probably never be, but at least you have a brain. Yes, lately the latter actually does not seem useful in order to start a career, but at least you can watch Friends and get their references to the “TV in the TV” technique, kind of a perk, right?

Recent graduates, brace yourselves, we can make it! I mean, Rachel did it… and she might be stunning, but not really the brightest one, right?