Onward...
I began second year with every intention of job-hunting in the spring. I was going to go against the grain, pioneer my own path, forge through as those around me were receiving their signing bonuses, knowing I was waiting for something great. That's why I put myself through the regrettable rigor of six classes this term. Spring quarter Anna is going to be very grateful for this, but Fall quarter Anna is becoming soft and her gym coach has given up on the are you alive texts. My wheels, glasses, and iPhone all need to be fixed. I don't even want to talk about the abysmal performance of the Sugga Momma Bears. After a promising draft, the team has clearly suffered from negligent leadership.
Then I got an email from my mom. It was a very simple message: don't feel bad making money. You can do good things with money. Amazon applications were due the next day, and a friend urged me to throw my resume in the bag. I've respected Amazon since reading The Everything Store; Jeff Bezos and I have the aligned mission of global domination and similar distaste for Powerpoints. Plus, brushing the dust off my interviewing skills wouldn't hurt. Casual re-recruiting, I called it.
They asked me the usual behavioral questions. Tell me about a time when... Between you and me, my favorite question was, "Which bullet point on your resume are you most proud of." First, I asked if he was serious about the question being personal or professional. Then, I told him about you, because you have been a vehicle of vulnerability the past six years. Every time I've felt lonely, broken, or weak, I've come here. I've written about it and offered it to anyone who wants to read it. Every time, I've woken up the next day, and I'm still Anna. But a little bit stronger, because I know I've shared something scary without losing anything.*
After the eighth interview, I had a moment of homesickness. What if I got the job? What if I had to move to Seattle, much further from Cleveland than I pictured myself. Start over again. On my own.
Then I had a moment of excitement. What if I got the job? And I went to work in an environment where I was nowhere close to the smartest person in the room - and I could finally stay awake for the entirety of a Monday Night Football game? Even though it was West, the one place I said I wouldn't go, I'd be going to a place I already had so many wonderful connections.
I got the offer. Now, the grain and I are moving in tandem. The path is pioneered. I get a signing bonus.*
Life's funny. When I consider my illustrious career, the only consistency is that I'm normally wrong, and if I say I'm not going to do something, that's probably the next step. My time at school has been an experience of growth, and I've learned more about myself than I expected. I've learned I'm pretty smart, quite curious, and really good at talking to people.* I'm driven and I'm adaptive. I've learned I can make my home anywhere, and I desperately want to be around people who push me to places I couldn't get on my own. I've learned that no matter where I am, I will take home with me, knowing that God's country will always be there, and one day, I could be there, too.
The time has also reinforced my approach to life: you can't plan. All you can do is position yourself to pounce on opportunities when they present themselves.
So I'm going to pounce. Then I'm not going to take over the world.
* I got at least two of the names wrong when saying good-bye. I really need to work on my ineffective name associations.
* Although not until I actually start.
* I'm also good at talking to myself, but I already knew that.
