When I was in high school, my mother and I would always stop for this one homeless lady parked at the edge of a turn driving home from school. She said she couldn’t help it; the woman looked to be around her age and looked similar to her yet found herself in this helpless position. She started to keep food in the car for when we passed by her. For as long as the light was red, she would talk with the woman. We learned that her name was Lisa and she was 42. In the winter, my mother brought the woman an old pair of gloves and a coat we had lying around. One day, after weeks had passed of us seeing her daily, she wasn’t in her usual spot. Every day following, we would look for her in that spot, but she never returned. My mother cried because even if the woman did have a positive turn and got out of her situation, there was still the possibility that things got worse for her.
Since I witnessed this portrayal of pure grief from my mother over a woman whom she barely knew, I have accumulated this immense love and care in my heart for those struggling in their lives. I would watch documentaries and YouTube videos on homelessness. I educated myself on the poverty gap and the fine line between the middle and lower classes. I learned about period poverty, disease and inequality. I watched interviews with individuals who have found themselves without a home and how they are treated on a daily basis. One man talked about how people shout at him to “go get a job bum.” However, when he tries to get a job, these companies require him to put a contact number on the application and he doesn’t have a phone. Another talks of how people avoid making eye contact with him when he is sitting on the street; he voices how being recognized as a human being is a rare occurrence, even something as simple as eye contact.
Once I moved out of the dorms at UMass, I had my own car and seemingly always had a job. One day, my roommate and I went downtown to pick up Pho we ordered for all 5 of our housemates. As we headed out to the car, a bag of food in each hand, a man approached us. My housemate immediately sped up and whispered to not look at him. But it felt wrong, so I looked. The man asked if I had any food to spare. I realized that I held two bags full of food, but I knew it wasn’t mine completely to give away. I apologized and told him that I did not have anything for him that day. He smiled and said that it was okay, and he thanked me for being so nice to him. I thought about that man nonstop and I couldn’t sleep that night. I thought about the money I had been gaining from my job and how, even though saving is important, sometimes other people truly need it more. In the morning, I drove to Walmart and got a bulk bag of assorted chips, meal replacement bars, Gatorade and a pack of waters. On my way out, I took about 10 plastic Walmart bags. I crafted baggies with what I had bought, for really not that much may I add, and organized them in my car trunk. I then drove through downtown Amherst every day for about an hour searching for this man. I never saw him again. With a trunk full of loaded baggies, I began to pass them out to people on the streets whenever I drove by. I became familiar with a few that consistently stood in the same spots and talked with them when I had the time. I still do to this day.
What do you want to be when you grow up? This is a question that is frequently asked when you are growing up— by your parents, your extended family, as icebreakers in school. The answer will likely change over the course of your life before work, mine did. It is simply the best feeling to formulate an answer to this question that remains consistent. Yet, even this answer changes as you go through college and reality hits on the actual job opportunities that are available to you based on your major, degree, and experience. Your dreams rarely become reality; they simply adjust. My dream job was always to be a writer. I wanted to create not only words on a page, but worlds in which people grow connected to as they read. The kind of books that people read over and over again. It wasn’t until I got an internship in publishing that I recognized this to be the kind of job that I could truly see myself in, while pursuing my dreams of being a writer. Working in the publishing industry was the perfect combination of my young dreams with the harsh reality of the real world. Helping other writers succeed and find their voices through words on a page seemed to be such a fulfilling feeling as a fellow writer. It would not only be the job most applicable to my major, degree, and experience, but to the picture I hold of my future.
However, that wasn’t exactly what the future had in mind for me. Like I said, your dreams rarely become reality; they simply adjust. As I scrolled through Indeed daily, applying to every job I had relative interest in, I only got one response back for a follow-up interview. The job was perfect, or so it seemed. A marketing specialist for a non-profit that provides emergency housing for individuals who have found themselves homeless. Thinking about my past experiences, I knew it was a mission I was extremely passionate about and a job that I had experience doing. Every aspect checked my boxes: a reasonable starting salary, benefits, a higher-than-average amount of vacation days, paid holidays, a hybrid work scenario. And although it seemed to all come together as the perfect job tailored to me, it just didn't follow my original plan for my future.
As I looked into the mirror sitting on my desk, the email with the zoom link pulled up on my computer next to me, I touched up my hair one last time. The clock clicked to 11:30 and I pressed the link, logging me on. The male face before me was extremely friendly and clean shaven. I watched his mouth move as he talked about the organization and began to set questions before me that I would be expected to answer. Yet, throughout the entirety of the interview, I couldn’t help but think about this picture I held of my future and how a job in the publishing industry was a much better fit.
As the interview went on, it was hard to ignore the obvious. It was a perfect fit. I have experience in marketing for a non-profit and I am passionate about their mission. As I answered his questions, I could tell he liked what he heard. I saw myself from his point of view— a young woman familiar with social media, experience in marketing and project management, and fully willing and experienced in a non-profit salary. The next day, he scheduled a third and final interview, this time with the Chief Development Officer, the big gun at the top of the food chain in my department. I accepted, but a part of me hoped that maybe they wouldn’t hire me as an excuse to keep trying for a publishing job. I’m just nervous that I would be swapping one actual opportunity for the mere potential of another.
The future I envision for myself in my mind involves me in my own home, surrounded by the people that I love and choose to be around, doing something that I absolutely love waking up in the morning to do. It is hard for me to always wrap my head around the fact that my dream future may not be something that appears out of nothing. Like I said, dreams require adjusting. Because I see the end goal, it really has made it difficult for me to actively choose something so different, such as marketing for a non-profit, as my starting point. Even though it is a place to start, is it the right place to start on my adult journey? Is there even a right place to start? After my third and final interview, I was offered the marketing job and granted a week to decide. As the days dwindle down, the decision has only become more confusing. I now must decide within the next 24 hours. It is difficult to have to choose between a sense of certainty and one of uncertainty, but the future is almost here, and this is the decision I must now make.
Since I witnessed this portrayal of pure grief from my mother over a woman whom she barely knew, I have accumulated this immense love and care in my heart for those struggling in their lives. I would watch documentaries and YouTube videos on homelessness. I educated myself on the poverty gap and the fine line between the middle and lower classes. I learned about period poverty, disease and inequality. I watched interviews with individuals who have found themselves without a home and how they are treated on a daily basis. One man talked about how people shout at him to “go get a job bum.” However, when he tries to get a job, these companies require him to put a contact number on the application and he doesn’t have a phone. Another talks of how people avoid making eye contact with him when he is sitting on the street; he voices how being recognized as a human being is a rare occurrence, even something as simple as eye contact.
Once I moved out of the dorms at UMass, I had my own car and seemingly always had a job. One day, my roommate and I went downtown to pick up Pho we ordered for all 5 of our housemates. As we headed out to the car, a bag of food in each hand, a man approached us. My housemate immediately sped up and whispered to not look at him. But it felt wrong, so I looked. The man asked if I had any food to spare. I realized that I held two bags full of food, but I knew it wasn’t mine completely to give away. I apologized and told him that I did not have anything for him that day. He smiled and said that it was okay, and he thanked me for being so nice to him. I thought about that man nonstop and I couldn’t sleep that night. I thought about the money I had been gaining from my job and how, even though saving is important, sometimes other people truly need it more. In the morning, I drove to Walmart and got a bulk bag of assorted chips, meal replacement bars, Gatorade and a pack of waters. On my way out, I took about 10 plastic Walmart bags. I crafted baggies with what I had bought, for really not that much may I add, and organized them in my car trunk. I then drove through downtown Amherst every day for about an hour searching for this man. I never saw him again. With a trunk full of loaded baggies, I began to pass them out to people on the streets whenever I drove by. I became familiar with a few that consistently stood in the same spots and talked with them when I had the time. I still do to this day.
What do you want to be when you grow up? This is a question that is frequently asked when you are growing up— by your parents, your extended family, as icebreakers in school. The answer will likely change over the course of your life before work, mine did. It is simply the best feeling to formulate an answer to this question that remains consistent. Yet, even this answer changes as you go through college and reality hits on the actual job opportunities that are available to you based on your major, degree, and experience. Your dreams rarely become reality; they simply adjust. My dream job was always to be a writer. I wanted to create not only words on a page, but worlds in which people grow connected to as they read. The kind of books that people read over and over again. It wasn’t until I got an internship in publishing that I recognized this to be the kind of job that I could truly see myself in, while pursuing my dreams of being a writer. Working in the publishing industry was the perfect combination of my young dreams with the harsh reality of the real world. Helping other writers succeed and find their voices through words on a page seemed to be such a fulfilling feeling as a fellow writer. It would not only be the job most applicable to my major, degree, and experience, but to the picture I hold of my future.
However, that wasn’t exactly what the future had in mind for me. Like I said, your dreams rarely become reality; they simply adjust. As I scrolled through Indeed daily, applying to every job I had relative interest in, I only got one response back for a follow-up interview. The job was perfect, or so it seemed. A marketing specialist for a non-profit that provides emergency housing for individuals who have found themselves homeless. Thinking about my past experiences, I knew it was a mission I was extremely passionate about and a job that I had experience doing. Every aspect checked my boxes: a reasonable starting salary, benefits, a higher-than-average amount of vacation days, paid holidays, a hybrid work scenario. And although it seemed to all come together as the perfect job tailored to me, it just didn't follow my original plan for my future.
As I looked into the mirror sitting on my desk, the email with the zoom link pulled up on my computer next to me, I touched up my hair one last time. The clock clicked to 11:30 and I pressed the link, logging me on. The male face before me was extremely friendly and clean shaven. I watched his mouth move as he talked about the organization and began to set questions before me that I would be expected to answer. Yet, throughout the entirety of the interview, I couldn’t help but think about this picture I held of my future and how a job in the publishing industry was a much better fit.
As the interview went on, it was hard to ignore the obvious. It was a perfect fit. I have experience in marketing for a non-profit and I am passionate about their mission. As I answered his questions, I could tell he liked what he heard. I saw myself from his point of view— a young woman familiar with social media, experience in marketing and project management, and fully willing and experienced in a non-profit salary. The next day, he scheduled a third and final interview, this time with the Chief Development Officer, the big gun at the top of the food chain in my department. I accepted, but a part of me hoped that maybe they wouldn’t hire me as an excuse to keep trying for a publishing job. I’m just nervous that I would be swapping one actual opportunity for the mere potential of another.
The future I envision for myself in my mind involves me in my own home, surrounded by the people that I love and choose to be around, doing something that I absolutely love waking up in the morning to do. It is hard for me to always wrap my head around the fact that my dream future may not be something that appears out of nothing. Like I said, dreams require adjusting. Because I see the end goal, it really has made it difficult for me to actively choose something so different, such as marketing for a non-profit, as my starting point. Even though it is a place to start, is it the right place to start on my adult journey? Is there even a right place to start? After my third and final interview, I was offered the marketing job and granted a week to decide. As the days dwindle down, the decision has only become more confusing. I now must decide within the next 24 hours. It is difficult to have to choose between a sense of certainty and one of uncertainty, but the future is almost here, and this is the decision I must now make.