Give Me $24k, or Give Me Death

If we’re all being honest here, I can admit that one of the aspects of employment I so looked forward to after college was the money. I mostly drifted through school like a destitute pauper; eating cheap and drinking even cheaper. Any excess funds that ever became available (a small loan surplus, finding money on the street, etc.) generally made me feel like I had hit the lottery. Usually, this new-found embarrassment of riches would translate in to a lavish fast food purchase, or beer that wasn’t sold in cans; but it also did well to plant a seed. What if I had extra cash like this all the time? What if I could afford to buy things like groceries, and pay my own cell phone bill? The possibilities, at the time, seemed utterly endless.

An entry-level salary is, quite often, going to be more money than your average 22-year-old has ever seen. That is to be expected when you’re accustomed to having a checking account that’s balance is often barely hovering in the two-digit range. Generally speaking, however, an entry-level salary does not a large sum of money make ($24k-$30k—for argument’s sake). That being said, you would be best to put away those immediate delusions of grandeur involving a condo downtown and a Prius.

With an entry-level salary comes entry-level adulthood; and with entry-level adulthood comes many a burden to be placated with said entry-level salary: rent, student loan payments, car insurance, car payments, phone bills, etc. Your financial obligations will likely be myriad. Also, I don’t know if you’ve been following the news this decade—but you had better pray to your god of choice that your entry-level fate provides you with health insurance. Bottom line: your money is going to go, and it’s going to go shockingly quickly.

I do not mean to exude an air of ungratefulness, by any means. An entry-level salary is all that we should expect as recent graduates; and in the worldly scope of things, it is very much considered a large sum of money. In that sense, it is certainly not something to be taken for granted—be thankful for the privileges your life's circumstances have granted you. But an entry-level salary should be seen as a starting point to a lifetime of success; a brilliant cornerstone to build upon.

Just be advised when planning your future purchases and endeavors: like many preconceived notions, the reality is often otherwise.

The Three Phases of the Modern Entry-level Employment Search

Phase 1: The Optimist.

So you’ve just graduated. Congratulations. You have a B.A., or B.S. in _______, and you’re ready to apply it in the workforce. After all, aside from some forays in to binge-drinking and other generally irresponsible behavior, this is why you went to college in the first place. You’re ready to hit the ground running; you’re determined to begin laying the foundations of a successful career, and so the search begins.

So you start looking. You begin with the usual suspects: Monster, Craigslist, Career Builder, etc. To a slight degree of dismay, you are disheartened to discover such a barren wasteland of selling insurance and rental cars when you search the category “entry-level”. That’s OK. You know there is something called a “recession” going on because you watch the Daily Show and follow Wolf Blitzer on Twitter. You’ve been told to expect this as the job market isn’t great; but you have your degree in tote, and thus remain encouraged that your greener pastures lie near on the horizon.

Phase 2: The Strained Optimist.

By this point, you’re about 1-2 months removed from graduation. You’re doing alright. You’re picking up some more hours at your part-time job because you’ve inherited this glut of free-time now that you’re not in school. Your quest for employment is ongoing, and while nothing has come of it yet, you’re doing your best to remain undaunted.

You’re beginning to dig deeper. The usual job search engine meat grinders continue to disappoint you with their results, so you adopt the role of sleuth and begin isolating specific companies you would want to work for. Much to your surprise, many of these companies list job postings directly on their respective websites. You’ve struck gold. Since most of these “careers” links are buried in the bowels of the homepages of most companies, you’re convinced that no one else has thought of this. You are, of course, wrong, and droves of your peers have also discovered this “secret”, but you’re still floating in a blissful sea of post-grad, real world ignorance.

So now you’re applying to companies directly. You remain confident that your resume and cover letter are going to pique someone’s interest, because you’ve shown initiative and proven yourself to be resourceful. You’re still exchanging emails with your internship supervisor, and while it has yet to produce anything, you feel there is still reason for optimism. You did, however, receive an unfortunate letter the other day indicating that your student loan repayment grace period will be ending in October. There is a haunting voice in the back of your mind that is indicating this search could be a long and arduous one. A sense of panicked urgency is beginning to slowly envelop you.

Phase 3: OK, so things are bad, and likely getting worse.

Four months ago you accomplished a terrific feat and graduated college. The world was at your fingertips, and you were very much excited at your future prospects. At present, however, you’re moving back in with your parents because your lease is up and the looming detriment of student loan payments leaves you with little recourse.

By now, you’ve had maybe three job interviews. You’ve likely been passed over each time for someone ten years older because they boast a significantly longer list of qualifications, and, almost incomprehensibly, they are even more desperate. Remember that recession thing we spoke of earlier? You are in the throes of it, my friend. Your internship supervisor is scarcely returning your emails at this point, and you’re seldom getting a response when you proactively inquire with HR at XYZ Corp. in a vain attempt at showing initiative. You have, in all likelihood, abandoned all hope of finding a job you may have any semblance of enjoying, and still, it all seems to be for naught. You’re beginning to loathe the words “Exciting marketing opportunity!”, because even the cauldrons of perpetual employee turnover that promote them aren’t returning your calls.

Is this what you had in mind four years ago? Get comfortable, some of us have been living in it for a lot longer than four months.

Have any advice on escaping this post-graduate limbo? We want to hear from you at entrylevelsiberia@gmail.com.

“Entry-level”: A delineation.

Perhaps we would be best served to establish just what it means for a position to be “Entry-level”. If there is one thing that I utterly mastered in four years of college (OK, five), it’s how to utilize Wikipedia, which describes an “Entry-level job” as follows:

“An entry-level job is a job that is normally designed or designated for recent graduates of a given discipline, and doesn't ask for prior experience in the field or profession.”

Seems reasonable enough. I don’t know that there are many better ways to describe those idyllic shores across from the river of uncertainty that is graduation. This is where we all hope to arrive; it is the destination we have earned, right? And no, your two month servitude of getting coffee and making copies, politely disguised as an “internship”, isn’t going to entitle you to much more*. One does not become Operations Analyst 3 at Miscellaneous Bank Corp. fresh out of school with a B.S. in finance. I’m sorry, but that fairy tale is just patently false.

Let’s make an effort to avoid the negativity though, shall we? The overall economic outlook, coupled with your 986th application rejection email, are already providing plenty of that. “Entry-level” is really more than a category of employment; it’s a state of mind. You’ve busted your ass in school for four years (or five, let‘s be honest). You’ve amassed enough knowledge of a field that you’re (hopefully) passionate about to get a degree in it. The world is yours. Go seize your dream job, and take no prisoners in the process!

Well, that’s how we’re supposed to feel. That’s how college graduates probably felt four years ago. We, unfortunately, represent a much more jaded and discouraged generation. We’re willing to take jobs we know we’ll grow to abhor just because all that money we borrowed eventually needs to be paid back. It’s a forced, bleak sense of practicality, and not the beaming, world-is-my-oyster optimism we initially bought in to.

Say it ain’t so? Prove me wrong. We want both stories of success and despair, for we aim to be purveyors of hope and empathy, in equal measure.

As always, send your stories to entrylevelsiberia@gmail.com.




*Not that I mean to rag on internships, because I don’t. Not doing an internship is easily my biggest undergraduate regret that doesn’t involve alcohol. The connections and experience gained can be invaluable to landing an entry-level job that you may actually--gasp--enjoy. In fact, if any undergraduates find this before it’s too late, this message should be paramount: DO AN INTERNSHIP.

Dispatches from the Disenfranchised: Entry-level Siberia

Have you recently graduated college? Are you finding it terrifically difficult to find gainful employment in anything even remotely affiliated with your major? Have you completely abandoned the hope you were sold on said major providing any practical use in post-recession America? Has the idea of joining the military--knowing full well we are actively involved in two wars--crossed your mind as a reasonable alternative to the suffocating weight of your student loan payments?

You are not alone, and Entry-level Siberia represents all of our similar ilk. If you are looking for a destination to commiserate; a forum to vent about the apparent falsehood of the American dream--this is your vessel. After all, what do us of the educated unemployed--underemployed, if lucky--have if not a rapidly growing base of each other?

We want to hear from YOU. Send your story of post-graduate disenchantment to entrylevelsiberia@gmail.com. Perhaps others can sympathize and dole out helpful advice. Let’s build a network to escape the confines of economic immobility, together. If they won’t give it to us, we have no choice but to take it ourselves.