Coming to terms with future career choices

Not long ago, I was trudging up Locust Walk past Huntsman Hall, when I came across quite a spectacle. Right at the base of the 38th Street bridge was a big fuzzy character, whom many of us know as Lucky the Leprechaun from the cereal Lucky Charms. When I first saw Lucky, I was pretty excited, partly because seeing one of those giant cartoon-like figures dancing around brought me right back to my first trip to Disney World. Also, Lucky and his partners were handing out free cereal bars to passers-by. Can't complain there. As I got closer to the spectacle, I realized that Lucky & Co. weren't just there to spread joy. They were here on a mission. A recruiting mission.

I didn't think anyone actually cared about anything other than the free cereal bars. I was wrong. Right after someone snapped a Polaroid of a group of kids posing with the leprechaun himself, the kids started walking not far behind me. They were talking about how much money they could make at an entry-level job at a company like General Mills. This conversation continued until the group and I parted ways, nearly a block later. Everything they had said had to do with the salary they would make at a particular job. Now, maybe I've spent too much time around the literary-types at the Writers House, but I was disgusted hearing people my own age so hung up on money. I mean, if we're going to talk about money, who would spend almost $160,000 on a Penn degree only to go work for a massive company that sells marshmallowy cereal to kids? Sure, I'm simplifying the idea considerably, but it all boils down to the same thing. I don't see how someone could be happy going to work every day for a huge company that doesn't really do much other than distribute flashy products. For me, it's about passion. I don't know exactly what I want to do when I'm done with Penn, but I do know that I want to get up each day excited for whatever it is I'm doing. I couldn't work in a job that was just a job. That is, I don't want to do something simply to get a paycheck. Of course, when times are tough, I can see how I might have to do something in order to put more peanut butter and jelly on my table. But, I just don't understand it when my peers worry so much about starting salaries. I remember hearing a friend scoff at a job that "only starts at $60,000 a year" and another talk about "taking a few years to work in the industry and make some fast money." Why bother? Why not take those years and wait tables so you can focus your energy on figuring out what you actually want to do? I guess part of the reason I'm so set in doing something that I care about is that I don't worry about money. I've supported myself on eight dollars an hour for 20 hours a week. And that includes rent, groceries, even a happy hour or two. Of course I'd like to have more money. But the thing is, everyone wants more money, even the Lucky Charms executives. A few things I'll clarify: first of all, working for a company like General Mills, or even one of those big firms like Goldman Sachs or J.P. Morgan Chase isn't by any means the worst a person can do. I'm not criticizing the companies themselves (hell, I don't even know what Goldman Sachs does). If I wanted to do that, I'd write about Wal-Mart or Halliburton. Also, I'm not looking down on all jobs that happen to have high salaries. I have friends who are considering medical and law school, who are truly passionate about those fields. They aren't just working toward a practical goal -- they're working toward something that they believe will make them happy. For them, it's not about getting and spending; it's about having a career that will actually mean something. When I got home after my run-in with Lucky, I asked one of my roommates if he would ever consider working for a company just because it offered him a good salary. He agreed with me. (Of course, that's not too surprising. He's a fine arts major.) If we're lucky enough to be at a place like Penn with so many resources to help us discover what we're passionate about, we should capitalize on that. We shouldn't settle for something that's only a job. Even if it takes us a few extra years of eating PB & J, we owe it to ourselves to figure out what will make us happiest.

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