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As we in our twenties enter the workforce as workhorses to be ridden as if college has groomed and saddled us, we find consolation in commiseration. At least Black Beauty was competing for sale to the highest bidder- We learn very quickly that to gain experience we have to be willing to submit ourselves to lower wages (or in the case of internships, no wages). This collective awareness of our low-budge drudgery zeroes in on a central truth: Getting hired to cater to someone’s S & M whims is pretty much a rite of passage.

Whether you’re fresh out of college, in grad school, or knee deep in the shit, there are few among us who know not of the hellish and permeating taint of the entry-level job.  To those of you already in the Promised Land of careerdom, you masters of your youth now have to exercise graciousness around your fellow choisters. There isn’t actually anything wrong with earning yourself a ‘Pass Jail’ card, but it does mean you should probably avoid lording it over the heads of we the tired-and-plenty (i.e. mass packaged in pretty little boxes wrapped in diplomas and credentials). But high five, guys- I’m happy for you. Mostly.

The rest of us are just mucking it out and earning our dues- Day by sweaty day. But despite the initial shock of the tedious, demeaning and/or downright weird tasks we’re given, there’s something gratifying in knowing you’re earning something more. Beyond the stench of get-me-out-of-here that fills my nostrils about 80% of the time, wafts the other 20. And it smells like the Promised Land.

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