My future? My business

My future has become public property. I can hear the question before it is even spoken: I cringe at the first "wuh" syllable of, "What are you doing after graduation?" Family, friends, acquaintances, and complete strangers interrogate me. I need a No Trespassing sign to hang around my neck.

I yearn to make something up just to shut them up, like "I'm moving to Africa to become a Safari guide" or "I'm planning to join the Peace Corps." Instead, I keep my eye-rolling hidden, stick to social custom and dutifully answer: "Yes, I am a psychology major...no, I am not going to grad school...no, I don't have a job yet..." to the inquiries. More well-meaning questions ensue, as if questioning alone will make my plans materialize out of thin air.

What if I actually told the truth? In the spirit of keeping it real, I'd like to outline my answers to the never-ending questions. Major? Procrastination. Minor? Double: partying and boys. Degree? B.A. in BS, Ohio State University, 2005. Type of job I'm looking for? Any job, preferably one that will keep me from defaulting on my student loans. Ultimate career goals? Marry rich and sail around the Mediterranean.

Last month, I made the mistake of showing up to my family reunion. A senior without a post-scholastic plan (Gasp!)?!? You'd have thought I showed up naked. Going through the potluck line felt like one of those elementary school dreams where I'm in the cafeteria line wearing only a backpack.

I also recently attended a wedding where all the people my age were in one of the following conditions: engaged, married, or married with children. For the two people in the room whose futures were not defined solely by relationship status, one was headed to the missionary field and the other was already in grad school. Then there was me, getting the parental third degree.

After hearing, "You're a Psychology major? What are you going to do with That?", over 21 times, I perfected my Miss America interview smile. After hearing it 43 times, I decided there should be a statute of limitations for asking these questions. A standard of three months after graduation for the truly employable people (those who actually have a profession: teachers, engineers, nurses, etc). Otherwise, the general principle should be the less employable, the more time there should be to answer the questions. Graduates of Fisher College of Business should get at least six months. Psychology majors who do not want to go to graduate school get a year. And anyone who is graduating with a degree that has nothing to do with what they want to do (or still doesn't know what they want to do) can file for an indefinite extension to come up with an answer.

I actually do have an immediate plan: obtain a job so people will stop asking me about my plans. In order to do this, I will be staying up all night writing cover letters which, translated, all mean the same thing, "Dear (hiring manager) I have spent a great deal of time fluffing up the enclosed resume with flashy verbs that attempt to gloss over my utter lack of practical expertise. Please read it and please, please call me for an interview. Please! Sincerely, Rebecca". I am also motivated to do this so I can pay for the $40,000 student loan bill that I will receive in 18 days.

If, like me, you are a graduating senior without a five-year --or five-month- plan, I propose a mass rebellion, a social revolution. Let us make war upon the phrase: "What are you doing after graduation?" by refusing to answer. Deny the dastardly string of words, and together we will conquer this never-ending query.

Rebecca Miller is a senior in psychology. She can be reached for comment at miller.2791@osu.edu.