Twas the night before my first career fair, so I laid out my thoughtfully picked, business casual outfit. My top, which looked like a crumpled-up piece of paper, hung in my bathroom while the shower was turned on hot. As it was dewrinkling, I laid out my slacks, sneakers and boots (which I planned to change into on the bus). Anticipation and the feeling of nervous gag-reflex wafted in my college apartment, forcing me to stay up way later than I thought I would.
After my shirt was as smooth as it was going to get, I laid in bed and scrolled through the different companies that would be at the fair. The career counselors told us to research, but how much research was enough? How much was too much? How am I supposed to ask these professionals any questions if I already know everything about their company? I was nervous and unsure and decided to turn off my light and try (which didn’t work) to go to sleep.
The next day came quickly, starting with an early wake up and tip-toeing into my bathroom to change while my roommate slept. I felt awake, mostly because of my nerves, as I got ready –– wiping my palms on a towel periodically while doing my makeup.
I finished packing my bag, ensuring the 15 resumes that I had printed out were in their designated spot. I locked my apartment as I left, bracing myself for the chilly morning walk to the bus.
All of the students and I filed into our buses, nervously blabbing to our neighbors things like “I’m nervous” and “have you ever been to this career fair before?” Shortly after, we were on our way.
The dark bus fostered a nice sleeping area, but nothing brought me to sleep. Instead I listened to Noah Kahan’s album “Stick Season” front to back and Amy Poehler’s first episode of “Good Hang.” After a while, everyone on the bus woke up.
All of us started changing our shoes, doing last minute research and touching up our makeup. I heard other students behind me saying “I printed out 45 resumes.” The stress began to creep in –– did I bring enough? Surely, I wouldn’t need 45, but would 15 suffice?
We eventually made it to the venue –– everyone was ready with fresh lipstick and sleek business casual attire. We all made our way up on elevators, saying “please” and “thank you” to everything.
Then, lunch started. Round tables scattered around the room seated students with recruiters, giving us time to chat and eat before the fair actually began. We carefully and ever so politely nibbled at our sandwiches, not knowing exactly what was on it, and patted our lips with paper napkins.
I found that the chips were the most difficult part of our meal to eat, as it felt like each crunch was a crash of thunder interrupting the conversations at the table. But in the end, I ended up throwing out half of the bag.
The recruiters were sweet, genuinely curious about our experiences and aspirations. They helped us ease into the fair with warm smiles and intent interest. After the allotted lunch time, we threw out our trash and began circulating through the fair.
My elevator pitch, which seemed so easy when practicing it in the mirror, suddenly was lost in my brain fog. I stumbled through it at the first couple of booths, emphasizing my aspiration to write for a magazine and trying to get across my true love for them. For someone who has improved so much with public speaking, I suddenly felt like my 9 year old self on stage trying to mutter my lines from Alphabet Soup (plus I was wearing a headband that I definitely would have loved in the third grade).
After the first couple of booths, the nerves began to loosen their grip and it all felt ok (other than my feet, which were in terrible pain). I finished the fair with a notepad filled with scribbles of notes from each booth, and felt successful. Plus, I even had resumes to spare.
We all piled back onto the buses and headed back to State College, worn out from talking and ready for the snooze on the bus ride home. But, because I have self-diagnosed-early-onset-old-lady-syndrome, all of my joints felt uncomfortable in the cramped bus seat, forcing me to adjust every 5 seconds. So, instead of sleeping, I listened to a podcast episode that one of the recruiters had recommended to me, and tried to find a comfortable position.
We eventually made it back, all worn out from the day, but hopeful for whatever was next.
For us seniors, we hoped that one of these recruiters saw something in us that would help land us a job. We don’t know where we will be a year from now, but we push and struggle and work hard to just make it – and maybe make it somewhere fabulous.
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