If I Had Never Quit My First Job After College

If Present Me could visit Year Ago Me and recount to her all that has happened in the time since then, I think it would be just about enough to send Year Ago Me into a frenzied anxiety attack as she began her last semester of college and approached that daunting period of time known as After Graduation. Year Ago Me was lucky. She didn't know how good she had it, flying by the seat of her pants and figuring it out as she went along. And if Year Ago Me was lucky, then Ten Months Ago Me was whatever is more lucky than lucky. Because she snagged a Job After College just the very day before Graduation. So very typical of all versions of Me.

I was lucky that I got that first Job After College when I did, and I was even more lucky that the boss let me start three weeks later, allowing me two weeks in France as the congratulatory reward I decided I'd earned. Yes, I was lucky. But I wanted more. I had a Job After College, the very thing that had caused me anxiety for many days and nights leading up to the moment I walked across the stage in May. I was supposed to love it, to be grateful, to make money, and to be fulfilled. All the hard work of the previous four years and every single summer course and pre-session I took was supposed to be paying off now. This was the time I had always groaned about to myself as I did all the things I didn't want to do throughout college, every time I told myself, "Someday this will all pay off." This was Someday. But it sure didn't feel like all it was cracked up to be.

Never having been someone to ignore her feelings, not even for a minute, I knew that simply going through the motions with this Job After College just wasn't going to cut it for me. No, I needed something more. Sure, this Job After College was fine; it paid the bills and passed the time. But there are more meaningful things to life. There is fulfillment; there is passion; there is euphoria. And wherever those things were hiding, I didn't know. But I did know one thing at least: it sure wasn't here. So, I quit.

I've looked back at that moment of my life a lot since it happened, in hindsight, and I've gone through feeling many different ways about it. A lot of the time it was the emotion closest to regret as I could really ever describe. Not regret because I quit (I haven't regretted that for a second) but more like regret that what I was seeking when I left was nowhere near what I actually found. I had high hopes for myself, as I have since as long as I can remember. I wanted to move upward and onward, and that's where I envisioned my life and my career heading as I walked out the door on my last day of work. I had no idea just how difficult the next few months would prove to be. So it's only natural, I think, for me to think to myself when times have been tough, "Man, if only I had never quit my first job after college..."

Well, I've heard it from just about everyone close to me in some form or another, and when it started to seep into my own subconscious is the moment when I decided that enough was enough. I am resilient, I am adaptable, and if there is not another good thing to be said about myself, at least let it be said that I learn from my experiences. So, I decided (although not entirely intentionally, I'll admit) that I was done with the wallowing and self-pity. Yes, I lost a reliable income when I quit that job, but I think we are failing to focus on all that I gained.

Life is funny, and hindsight is, in fact, always 20/20. So it was not until just last night, one week before my twenty-third birthday, and eight whole months after I began that first Job After College, that the Nature of the Universe finally revealed itself to me and I was able to see the beauty and purpose in the path that my life has taken since the moment when I quit my first Job After College.

If I Had Never Quit My First Job After College

If I had never quit my first job after college in the beginning of last September, I never would have had my first real experience with presenting an intimidating boss with a letter of resignation.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I never would have met Kendel, or Kara or Joe or Kevin or Wade. I never would have experienced the pure displeasure which is direct selling, or any of the other explicitly pushy techniques I was told to study and master. I never would have learned to avoid the Electronics department of Walmart at certain times of the day on certain days of the week. I never would've had the luxury of starting work at 10:30 in the morning, and therefore had time to run three whole miles before a day spent standing on my feet, improving my stamina and endurance every time. I never would've gained the life experience of defending myself and my relationship against someone who did not have the same standards for himself or his relationship with his pregnant girlfriend at the time. I also never would've learned all that I did about DirecTV and AT&T and the business acquisition which happened between them both, nor any of the technical details I learned about television, Internet, and home phones.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I never would've gone to work for a travel agency and learned all that I did about the travel industry as a whole, which remains something very interesting to me. I never would've learned the main hub airports for Southwest, American, United, or Delta. I never would've helped so many people create memories in cities all over the country, and I never would've learned all that I did about transit visas and passports. I never would've met Genesis and eaten dinner with her in my home, spending hours catching up. I never would've met Daniel or Sophie or Robin, who reminds me so much of my mother. I never would've gained their friendship and heard the reverberation of my own soul in theirs. And I never would've experienced such a horrible boss as I did during my time there, or known what it felt like to cry in the bathroom at work. I never would have learned so much about the dirty secrets of one of Wichita's most prolific business families. I never would have momentarily forgotten my worth and accepted being paid minimum wage and belittled everyday. I never would have been so physically stressed out and tense because of a minimum wage job that I decided to take up YouTube Yoga every morning before going in to work. And because of that, I never would have made so much progress on my shoulder stand pose; ironically, my mind and body would not have improved as much as they did once I was pushed to finally mandate time for myself. And I never would've gained the strength and courage I did when I walked into his office for the final time to tell him I was done being mistreated, nor would I have felt the rush of true liberating relief that I did as I drove out of the parking lot for the last time.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I never would have needed to make more money and driven for Uber using Elle's car for three weeks. I never would've had so many great conversations with strangers in Wichita or told my story of working to buy a plane ticket to go visit my boyfriend for Christmas so many times. I never would have picked up so many passengers from all around the world, or felt the common thread of our collective humanity. I never would've experienced rolling around in Elle's vibrantly-decorated LGBT-mobile and felt how differently I was treated because of it, especially as it sat in the parking lot of my apartment the morning after Trump was elected.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I never would've driven downtown on that first Uber night, and seen my friend Kate's coffee bus parked at the Pop Up Park on a Friday night. I never would've stopped the car and gotten out to say hi, and I never would've told her that I was doing Uber because my crappy boss at my day job paid me minimum wage and I needed to take up a side hustle if I ever planned on boarding a plane to France in December. Kate never would've pointed to the food truck set up right next to hers and suggested I introduce myself to the owner because she was looking for someone to cashier part time and Kate thought we'd get along. I never would've walked right over to the window of that truck and asked for Lisa. I never would have met Lisa, or Eddi, or Kimber, Alex, or Christian. I never would've bonded with Lisa over our the dysfunction of our families, or thought of my own mother every time she said, "groovy". My path never would have gotten around to any of the other food truckers, either, and I never would've met Greg or Manu or Lauren or Jeff. I never would've gone to work for Jeff either, when he needed a shift covered last minute. I never would have forged those bonds with Wichita roots, or known regular faces at local places like CSB or Aero Plains. I never would've even known what Kimchi is, or cared about the presence of high fructose corn syrup in what I eat. I never would've carried that knowledge and awareness into an organic health foods store with me today. And I certainly never would've come to appreciate just how hard it is to work for tips, or how helpful a little lipstick and a nice smile can be for that. I never would have known the truly old-fashioned feeling that is stuffing a wad of cash into an envelope and mailing it home to your Momma at the end of the week, so she can maneuver it into your online bank account for you.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I never would have quit my second job, or my third. I never would have returned to the RSC after having finally walking away from Brad, to go plop down in Rich's office and chat openly with him about how much I appreciated him as a boss, and more importantly, as a friend, now that I did not have him anymore. I never would've known what it felt like to dislike one boss so much, in order to love and truly appreciate another even more. I never would have sat at a bar and drank beer with a former boss and discussed the legality of the actions of my current one. I never would have had such an experience.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I never in a million years would have been able to just drop everything and jet-set to Europe for nineteen days. I probably would not have been able to work my magic and charm any employer into justifying that absence, so I never would have arrived in Orly Airport in Paris, exhausted and smelly, with ripped jeans and unbrushed teeth, early in the morning in the middle of December. For that matter, I would still yet to have ever experienced the sheer luxury that is a bilingual British Airways international flight. I most likely never would have successfully pulled off going to France for Christmas with David, which means I would not as of yet had met his family; his parents, his sister, his brother-in-law, aunt, uncle, and cousins. I still would not know what la raclette is, and that would be a crying shame. I would not have the nineteen extra days of cultural immersion under my belt that I do, and however many countless vocabulary words I learned that trip would not yet be in my cerebral possession. I would not have spent a day in Paris at Christmas with Justine, laughing the whole time. I would not have really, truly, physically seen what my life might look like in France, if I actually got accepted into the TAPIF, and I would not have gone from about 80% sure to the full 100, that I absolutely wanted to live there someday very soon.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I would not know quite so well the misery that is even worse than the Minimum Wage Blues, but rather what followed: The Unemployment Blues. I would not have faced repeated employment rejection so many times from the very University I just contributed so much money to for more than four years. I would not have rallied my energy and persistence immediately after I received that rejection email while I was in France, my very own Happy Place. I would not have crashed down quite so hard to Rock Bottom and felt the ache in my bones as I collided simultaneously with the cold, hard earth and bitter reality. I would not have spent that time in Europe with very little spending money, and I would not have returned home flat broke. That would not have, in turn, inspired me to wipe my brow and work harder than ever to find something, anything, to pay the bills. I would never have spent a weeknight sitting crouched in front of this very computer, applying to job after job on site after site, as I polished off the last of David's disgusting Scotch in one night. I would never have marathoned more than 100 applications in one sitting as I did that evening. I never would have tasted such panicked desperation, and I never would have wanted it even more. I never would have jumped through so many hoops and gone to so many first-round interviews, only to not be invited back for the second-round afterward. I never would have been nearly as creative as I was with selling my resume to employers, skills which I no doubt retained from my second job after college. I never would've cried as much as I did and felt the true pang of sadness that was failure and rejection, or realized just how hard it really is to get back up that eighth time after you have fallen down seven.

http://www.rando-saleve.net/bricbrac2.html

If I had never quit my first job after college, I never would have accepted a position at a hoity-toity health foods store twenty-five minutes across Wichita from my apartment, with mere thirty minute lunch breaks, where my cell phone is considered the purest of contraband. I never would have accepted it as a viable option because I never would have admitted to myself that perhaps I did not have any other realistic options at this moment in time. I never would have considered that maybe living solely off of wages earned on the food truck in the coldest months of the year were not going to afford my rent for me next month. I never would have acted out of necessity, rather than my usual condition of privilege and pleasure. And I never would have come to realize that, along with making the highest hourly wage I've ever made in my life, I now actually enjoy my work and genuinely kind co-workers. But on the way to where I am now, I never would have had to ask so many of my family members if I could borrow money; and my relationships with my relatives would not have been so strained because of it, but they would not have grown and flourished as they have, either. If I had not taken this path in my life, I never would have been so truly humbled. I would not have appreciated my landlord's kindness and understanding quite so much. My heart would not have come to so warmly feel the true meaning of gratitude to all those who have helped me through my struggle in some way.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I would have remained complacent, resenting myself for settling for such a miserable feeling, until I eventually became numb. I would have significantly fewer friends and experiences, and I would have driven the same ten-minute drive to work every single day for the past eight months. I would have health insurance and a significant allowance of PTO by now, but my life never would have twisted and turned in this way. Neither my stubborn heart nor determined mind would not have been so violently pried open by change and forced to adapt in order for me to survive. I would have had only two W-2s to file last month and I am sure that the last three-quarters of a year would have gone a little more smoothly for me - financially, emotionally, and otherwise. I would have a much greater wealth of money, but I would be so much poorer in life experience, sorrow, and joy. I would not be better off, if I had never quit my first job after college.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I never would have learned so many things, many of which I can't remember now, and probably more still that I am not even consciously aware of yet. If I had never taken my foot off of that first stepping stone, I never would have arrived on the second, or third, or fourth, as far as that goes. I never would have honestly felt like I was pushing myself to really do more than what I knew I was settling for at the moment. And that would have eaten me up inside, because I would have known that I was not truly dreaming to my full potential. I was dumb, but I was brave. I was an idiot, but I was absolutely fearless about it. I made mistakes, but I owned them. And I know now, if I didn't before, that there really is no better way for me to learn. Life is about trial and error, and I am so proud of myself now, knowing that I was not afraid for a moment to try and fail, just to see what I could learn through the experience. I threw caution and safety to the wind, and I followed my heart. It was a long way down, but it didn't lead me astray. Every time we don't succeed, we learn one more way that does not achieve our goal. And we learn a whole heck of a lot about ourselves in the process.

If I had never quit my first job after college, I would have so many fewer bumps and bruises to my name, but I'd have a whole lot less character because of it, too; and not nearly as many stories.Every next level of your life demands a new version of yourself. Maybe I wasn't ready for whatever I went through on my path before I eventually got to it. But I had to go down the very path I did, in order to finally arrive. And from where I'm standing now, looking back at the many places I've been, I can see it all beginning to finally make sense. And it's happening just in time, too, as I turn my head to face the future and continue on down my path, lugging along all the lessons of the past with me as I go. I don't know what exactly it is that I may meet in the future, but just imagine how much more unprepared for it I would be, if I had never quit my first job after college.

College Friendships & International Exposure

I think back to August of 2012 when I made that first drive to Wichita all by myself, with my belongings all packed up and ready to move to college with me. I was only relocating an hour north, but at 18 years old, I was simultaneously thrilled and terrified. I can remember feeling excited to finally live on my own and be able to go anywhere and do anything, at any time of the day or night without having to answer to my mother. I remember thinking what a huge, vast place Wichita was and how I was probably never going to learn how to get around or remember where anything was located. I also remember feeling like my heart had been ripped straight out of my chest when I drove out of my mom's driveway after kissing my three-year-old baby brother good-bye. I remember feeling so guilty because I just knew he was going to forget all about me and things were never going to be the same again (he didn't, and they were).

I was so sad and scared for many reasons which I was leaving behind, but it quickly occurred to me that I was also scared for a few reasons looking forward. I didn't have a job secured yet and I was unsure of just how long the money I'd made at my summer job would sustain my new college lifestyle. I was moving to a place with a higher crime rate and I couldn't help but imagine being mugged in the bad neighborhoods of the city I would now call home. But perhaps most daunting of all, now that I look back at that moment in my life, is a fear which is far less tangible and  much more realistic: I did not know a single person in Wichita. I was the only one from my graduating class to be going to WSU as a freshman, and while I was very excited about getting away from the people I'd long ago outgrown, it also momentarily paralyzed me with panic.

I had no one. The realization really hit me that first night when I went to bed in my dark new dorm room, all by myself, without my Mommy, my baby brother, my best friend, or my boyfriend. I only had myself. My roommate hadn't arrived yet and there was no guarantee I'd like her when she did (I didn't). I was just going to have to make friends in my classes and cross my fingers that I'd eventually find some people who would understand me.

It took some time at first, but eventually I did find my own little tribe of various misfits and weirdos.

Freshman year was rough, and I really only still speak to one person who I knew at that time. I like to think of that first year as the awkward freshman year that a lot of people experience, where you try your hand at a lot of different things just to find out what you like and see what sticks. My roommate and I didn't have much in common and we lived in an unhealthy silence for the entire year. This greatly shaped my outlook on making new friends. My suitemate and I, however, banded together for a while, but towards the end of the year that began to disintegrate as our paths went in separate directions. I'd made a few other friends through work (I actually ended up getting a job before August was even over, and I stayed there for a year) and various other activities. At the end of the year, though, I left Wichita to go home for the summer still feeling pretty alone.

The following year was really the turning point in my college career. You always hear stories where people say "we met in college" or they talk about how they went to college with their best friends/bridesmaids/groomsmen. This is the really profound part of my journey where I first encountered those kinds of characters in my life's story. I moved into a different residence hall, partially by choice, and partially because the university's administration kicked returning students out of where I'd previously lived. It doesn't really matter now how my path led me there, because I ended up exactly where I was meant to be. I was at Brennan.

I cannot count on both my hands all of the countries represented in Brennan. There are a lot. Within the first week of living there, I had made new friends from all over the world; from places I'd never known anyone from before; and certainly from places I could not identify on a map. Brennan was a hodge-podge of so many different ethnicities and nationalities, due in part to its close location to the International Education office, and also because it had the cheapest housing rates available. Throwing so many international students and domestic students together in two buildings certainly had its quirks.

Although we came from many different cultures individually, the combined culture of Brennan was one rich in brutal honesty, immense sexual innuendo, racist jokes, and mild sexism. We all spent entirely too much time together, frequently invaded one another's personal space, knew terrible truths about each other, and at some point everyone had been pissed off at someone else. Despite all of our various differences, what kept us together were the things we had in common. We were one giant, usually loving, always misbehaving, slightly dysfunctional, multi-colored family.

I have this big world map on my wall right above my bed this year, where I put little adhesive tags with the names of my loved ones on it. I am a visual learner and seeing my friends spread out geographically like that really puts it into context for me. There are some tabs on the map which represent people who I did not meet through Brennan, and I cherish those international friendships just as dearly. I know by my age, plenty of people have accomplished much more. But I'm quite proud of being twenty-one-and-a-half years old and having friends from six out of seven continents. (Does anyone really live in Antarctica anyway?)

The Brennan residence hall has since been shut down by the administration, and we dispersed in different directions. We all feel collectively pretty sad and even a little bitter about it, but I remember what a friend told me last year: "Brennan's not a building. It's a community." A group of us moved together into another residence hall after it closed, and we still hang out regularly. It's not quite the same as it was before, but just like anything else in life, it has evolved as time has gone on. A few of the members of my Brennan family have since returned back to their home countries, and while I always hate it when the international students leave, Facebook does help keep us close. And I doubt if they know this, but I assume that I have a place to stay in any of their home countries if ever I should need it.

I look at this map on my wall, and I think back to my freshman year in Wichita. I spent that first lonely night in my empty dorm room, just a few doors down in the very hall where I sleep now. I didn't know a single person when I moved to (what I thought was) a big city three years ago. Wichita seemed cold and lonely and truly terrifying to even the most headstrong of eighteen-year-old girls.

Apart from my time spent cultivating international relationships at Brennan, I did travel abroad for the first time in college, which inspired me to take a solo trip to check out an even bigger city later. When I look at my map of friends and see how far away the places I've been are located from the tag that says "Mom & Zane", I realize that the one hour drive from home to Wichita in 2012 was not so far, afterall.

I have grown an incredible amount in such a short span of time during my college years. I know I'm responsible for most of it myself, but I don't pretend that at least part of that growth has been due to them; those little adhesive tags littered all over my map, which represent living, breathing people, with whom I've lived, slept, ate, argued, and known on a very real level. Without even one of those people in my life, I would not be the very person I am today. Nobody can do everything in this world on their own, least of all grow.

Three years ago when I made that interminable drive to Wichita with all my belongings, the thought never once crossed my mind that I was driving toward such meaningful friendships and such varied cultural exposure. I felt so alone in a city of 380,000. I knew no one. Now, a short time later, I feel so at home all over the world; and it all changed within the same city limits.

Now I feel I'm outgrowing Wichita, just as I felt when I outgrew Ark City. I made a big girl leap into a bigger city 50 miles away, even though I was scared. It took some time and adjustment, but I now know I survived. Having that knowledge and experience under my belt, I am now much more fearless to do it again, on a larger scale.

It's strange to think that so much has changed in such a short amount of time. But meeting so many people from so many places (along with my own traveling experience) has taught me that I can indeed go anywhere and do anything, because I now know I can make a home and find friends anywhere at all in this world, no matter how scared and alone I might feel when I first arrive. I've just got to look around to find my own little tribe of misfits and weirdos, wherever I may be. They look different and they come from different places, but no matter where I may go, they're there: friendships waiting to be made.

"Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open." - Albus Dumbledore