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Recently graduated law student
The Bakery
Sep 24, 2019 4 years agoAs I sat down for an interview for a job I really didn't want, but knew I needed, I couldn't help but notice the disparity in my interviewer and I's attire. A recent law school graduate and a bakery manager sit across from each other. I am in my brown leather Johnston & Murphy dress shoes, olive colored khakis, and a plaid-patterned pink and blue dress shirt. He is in a black polo, jeans, grey Nike tennis shoes, and a black trucker hat with a white American flag graphic on the front. This is certainly not the first time an interviewer dressed down, but under these circumstances it was insult to injury. I could feel my pride cringing. On the bakery's patio, we sipped coffee and exchanged backgrounds. At this point, my plight rolls off the tongue like its second nature. He reassures me that I am doing better since he is a manager of a bakery and I will soon be an attorney. The irony falls away as quick as it appears. I am under no obligation to remind him that I am the one interviewing for a $10/hour job with over $90,000 in debt. He rambles on about expectations, giving 110%, treating the staff like family. I sit there half listening, half thinking of what has brought me to this moment. Why am I here? Has the American dream failed me? Have I failed? Who here is to blame? This is supposed to be a short-term job, but the implication is that this may be longer. Hard to look someone in the eye and tell them, “Well sir, ideally, I would like to quit this job as soon as possible.” I tell him I just need something till I find a full-time gig. He recognizes the potential lack of return in hiring me. The wasted training time and money. I reassure him, “It's unlikely I find a real job anytime soon.” Look man, please don't make me fight for a job I already don't want. At this point, we both recognize the other's complacency. In tandem, we silently express “you'll do.” We start to discuss logistics and my job as a baker begins to materialize. I drift to a phone call happening at a table behind us. A man reiterates a phrase to the person on the other end. It strikes me like a bolt of lightning. “Enjoy the struggle, enjoy the struggle.” My attention lurches back into the interview as we start to wrap things up. He tells me to fill out an application and then we'll be done. We shake hands and he heads back inside the store. I sit there torn. I do not want this job. I need this job. My pride fights me with every stroke of the pen on the application. “Stop, please stop.” Reality weighs on me. Enjoy the struggle. The words reverberate in my skull like a ping pong ball. Every misstep, every failure comes to mind. It's no secret I'm struggling. Why shouldn't I enjoy it? My grandparents struggled. My parents struggled. Why would my story be any different? No one wants to struggle anymore. It's shunned. It's definitely not something you would post about on social media. Like a pariah, struggling is nothing to be proud of. Yet, it's something that everyone will do. It defines who we are. Enjoy the struggle. Relish inventing yourself into what you want to be. Enjoy the struggle. Delight in what you have to do to become who you want to be. Enjoy the struggle. Because after its done, the story you leave behind will mean that much more.
