Courtesy of Chloe Gordon
I graduated from college with a strategic communications degree and an overly confident mindset that I would be the absolute best new hire at any company I wanted to work for.
I had three internships under my belt from my four years in college, all directly related to my degree. I had great references. And, what I thought was most important, I had an absolutely relentless drive to make it big at an ad agency. I was ready for the real world. Or so I thought.
I graduated without a job, and the search was tough
I spent the next few weeks after graduation applying for positions, and then I spent the next few months after that in a hole of desperation. Interview after interview, rejection after rejection — if I heard back at all — I suddenly shifted from feeling like my applications were a ticket to the big leagues to feeling like an unwanted failure.
After a few months and a lot of tears, a family friend got me a foot in the door at a company that was hiring, and I sorrowfully (albeit mercifully) accepted the first job I was offered. It wasn’t too far off from what I was looking for, but it was at a sports marketing agency. A niche in which I held little interest.
Was it the role I had always dreamed of? Definitely not. Was it a job? Yes, and that was the only thing that mattered at the time. No, it wasn’t my dream job, but it was a role I’ll always appreciate — because it’s the role I was forced to quit in order to find the perfect match.
At the time, saying “yes” to that first offer felt like something I had to do. Who was I to turn down the only paying gig I was offered after months of applying? Everyone in my graduating class was seemingly coasting in their careers, already getting promoted, and even starting families, while I felt lucky to hear back about an application at all, even if it was a rejection.
I accepted the first job I was offered, but it wasn’t right for me
The title wasn’t right, the work was unrelated to my interests, but I told myself I could make it work. And I did. But just three months later, the pandemic upended everything, including my job.
The role I had signed on for shifted drastically. The small bit of momentum I had evaporated overnight, and I found myself doing work that was even more disconnected from anything I wanted to pursue. Instead of designing emails and writing social copy, I was traveling around the state of Alabama, testing college students for COVID and overseeing the operations of quarantining sick students.
At a certain point, I realized I was showing up every day to a job I didn’t care about, in a field I didn’t want to be in, with no path forward. Not only did I feel like I was being sucked deeper and deeper into a career path I wanted nothing to do with, I also wasn’t showing up in a supportive way.
After a year of tearful commutes and pretending it was all OK. I did something completely out of character. I quit.
I had no new job lined up and zero plans. What I did have was a gut feeling that I couldn’t keep going the way I was. Did I cry when I quit? Of course, I bawled. Did I feel like I had just made the worst decision of my life? Undoubtedly. Did I wonder if I just destroyed my future? No question about it. But I did it anyway.
Quitting turned out to be the beginning of everything
I made my new 9-5 an intense job search, but only for roles that spoke to me. Two weeks later, I realized that through freelancing, I could carve out my own dream role for myself. Now, I have a career I never could have predicted. One that’s rooted in writing, branding, and storytelling. A career that aligns with my strengths and allows me to work with people and ideas I care about. I didn’t end up at the advertising agency I dreamed of, but I did find a path that fulfills me.
Through the process, I’ve learned that your first job doesn’t define you. It might not even resemble what you end up doing in the future. But that’s not failure. It’s normal. It’s a stepping stone because sometimes the “wrong” job is just the job that gets you closer to what’s right.
I used to think career paths were supposed to make sense. I learned that they do, but only in hindsight.
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