I was sitting in a tiny, stuffy, stark-white room
without air conditioning in Clement on Thursday for my interview for an internship with J.P. Morgan. I knew from the outset that things might not go so well when I arrived at the interview casually dressed in a short-sleeved shirt and khaki pants (in consideration of the oppressive heat) and the other people waiting for interviews were manifesting their can-do, never-say-die business spirit with the masochistic practice of wearing suits.
In a perfect world, appearance should not be the deciding factor in determining who gets a job. However, in the real world (of which the business world is an important part), it's impossible to determine everything about a person in a thirty minute interview. Aesthetic appearance plays an important role simply by virtue of the lack of other bases on which to judge a candidate. It's the same principal at work in fraternity and sorority rush. It's an unfortunate but true aspect of life.
The interview started typically enough, with a rather bored, frustrated looking man asking me the standard questions of why I want to be an investment banker. I must have messed up somewhere in my answer because my interviewer interrupted me and started talking non-stop for 15 minutes. Another bad sign was the subject of his impromptu monologue. This man vented about how much he hates his job. This wasn't just your typical "are you sure you can handle a100-hour work week?" speeches. This man was legitimately trying to discourage me from pursuing his path. It was as if he were trying to tell me that it was too late for him, but there was still time for me to avoid selling away my life. He talked about how he never sees his family and about the importance of finding a fulfilling job.
Maybe it was that one of my answers made him think that I was not investment banker material, so he softened the blow by making it look like the job was not one I wanted. But the main theme was his frustration with the decisions he made in his life leading to the quite obviously miserable state he was in. And I thought to myself, "Screw the interview, I just don't want to be like that in ten years."
There are tons of different jobs out there. In only two years I'll be in the real world, finding my place in one of them. How does a person make a decision like that? An internship is one way to learn, but there are only so many internships a person can do before he or she has to start working for real.
Everyone talks about doing what makes you happy. But how do I know what that is when I'm just a pathetic little college student? I don't know if investment banking is for me - it didn't seem to be for my interviewer - but how do I know it isn't for me? How do I know anything at all? What if I spend my entire life without ever doing the job that makes me happy? And how will I know what that job is so I can look for it? Who am I anyway, and what is it that makes me tick? These are not intended as rhetorical questions. I need answers!
My interviewer certainly gave me a lot to think about; in fact, it looks like he inspired a mid-midlife crisis in me. I guess it's just one of those facts of life. So, for the meantime, I think I'll intern at an investment bank next winter. We'll see if it's for me.