Ticket to the Career Fair

It’s career fair season again, and I want to go back to the year I had mine.

I was running late: I’d had a class at MoMA that day and had to hurry to catch the Metro-North so I could make it to the reception on time. Back in New Haven, I took a quick shower at home and ran to school. I put on an outfit meant to look casual yet elegant, confident yet obedient, but my feelings were closer to embarrassment and insecurity. Worse, my hair was still damp from the shower, which made me look weird.

It was my first time at a career fair, and the scene on the second floor could not feel more esoteric. From a glance I could make out three types of people: partners of nearby firms who seemed to enjoy the attention from students eager to get an interview the day after; senior practitioners working for a company who clearly wished they were elsewhere; and junior employees—usually alumni—who also looked to be in a state of quiet anxiety, pretending to have a hierarchical position that was difficult to sustain for a whole evening with free drinks.

My target for the evening was that third type of person. I only needed a summer job in New Haven to pay bills. Having this job would make the difference between enjoying a financially comfortable summer and having to question every single expense. I had exchanged a few emails with an employee at a local firm, and although we weren’t meeting until a week later, I had promised myself I’d say hi and make sure he remembered me.

I had two glasses of wine, then started orbiting near the group of students around him for about ten minutes, trying to figure out how to get his attention. Luckily, he didn’t know me in person, so even if he noticed the random guy stalking him, he wouldn’t recognize me. Or would he? I grew more and more nervous because I didn’t know how to act. I finally found the courage and walked directly toward him, as if I was about to attack him. He finally looked at me, more scared than curious.

“Hi, my name is… We exchanged emails in the past few days… I only wanted to say hello before we meet in person next week.”

His face finally relaxed. He was probably relieved I wasn’t the serial killer he expected. But still, I could tell he wasn’t enjoying that evening either.

“Ah, nice to meet you,” he responded, “Yes, I look forward to our meeting.”

The career fair is a social experiment for those who aren’t familiar with Ivy League social etiquette. For a few hours, your chances of getting a job depend less on your talent as an architect than on your ability to find the right person, say the right things, and make sure they can remember you the day after. One could say that your classmates are your competitors, but, paradoxically, they are the ones to support you, when you are extremely nervous and in dire need to exchange a few words just to avoid having a panic attack.

I don’t have good memories of that evening, and I still feel embarrassed when I think about it. Nonetheless, I also remember it as an effective learning process: better to have a weird networking encounter than to avoid it completely. In the end, I got that summer job.

Anonymous