The Deserted Bandwagon

Author: [no author name found]

So I submitted my first job - sorry, career - application on Friday. In the cover letter I used the words "skills," "knowledge," "generosity," "achieved," "communication," "teamwork" and "experience" so many times that my self-description sounds even more unforgivably obnoxious than one of those "My Midd Experiences" on the College homepage, which all invariably read like this:

"When I first arrived at Middlebury I was immediately enchanted by all the facilities, passion, interest, community, diversity, artistic expression, willingness, environmentalism, friendship and enthusiasm. The experience taught me a lot about myself. Let's learn fencing. I'll hug anyone who smiles."

Except with a cover letter I'm not trying to sell the College to potential students, I'm trying to sell myself to potential employers (the prostitution undertones are unavoidable). But since I didn't exactly spend the last four years thinking about how I could build a résumé or get my face and 300 words on the Middlebury web site, I'm already at a massive disadvantage applying for jobs. I'm going to be competing for the same positions as the average "Midd-kid," who, according to the web site, has spent the past 22 years saving the world...one endangered shrub at a time. So I need to make myself appear like more of an overachiever than those kidney-donating, petition-wielding go-getters.

Let's face it, there aren't a lot of respectable jobs out there at the moment. Some of us will end up spending 40 hours a week next year wearing a paper hat and flare. And the way I see it, it's either the super-students or me. And I feel justified in lying my way into a high-paying position while letting the overqualified kids take the humiliating jobs, because if they're as optimistic and resourceful as they claim, I'm sure they can make the most out of such occupational misfortune. It can be another one of their "growing experiences."

And about this cover letter I mentioned earlier - seriously, it makes me look like a god. I went through all of the "My Midd Experiences" and carefully cut-and-pasted the most exceptional sentences onto one glorious document with my name at the top. The final product is a highlight reel of other people's experiences - a pastiche of dynamic personalities. On its own, my cover letter dwarfs any of its tributary essays with its overall intelligence, sense of good will, breadth of experience and general adorableness. And all this from me, a guy whose "deep" conversations - even after four years of Middlebury - rarely sound more sophisticated than this:

"Whoa dude, did you just quote John Milton?"

"No dude, Iron Maiden."

Of course, instead of including honest yet shaming details, I string together ones like the following, which happen to be the last two sentences of my epic piece of plagiarism: "Everyone knows that dolphins are intelligent animals, but it wasn't until I swam with them one evening in the Pacific Ocean that I realized they are also spiritual animals. The next day I summited Everest."