Four Years of College to Become a Server...
It is looking that way. Today I was notified by my page design teacher that the Orlando Sentinel has cut so many jobs that those who are "blessed" enough to still be employed have zero time to spend with an intern. That leaves me, the intern, rejected from an unpaid position. That is more than a major slap in the face.
Us journalists have been conditioned to accept that a job in the field right now is so rare that we should deem it impossible. But now, we cannot even work for free to gain some sort of knowledge about our field.
And that leaves us where?
I graduate in four classes, 12 credits, or a summer semester plus one class in the fall. I feel like a homeowner being put out on the streets. The University doesn't want me anymore, my Bright Future scholarship is dunzo, and the job world has no place for me! The only lifestyle I see fit at this point is to pack up all of my belongings, set up camp in the woods off of Alafaya Trail, and live off of the land.
That option sound much better than taking another dime from my parents. I refuse, it makes me sort of sickened inside each time I swipe my debit card for food and gas, knowing that I am spending someone else's hard-earned cash.
Us journalists have been conditioned to accept that a job in the field right now is so rare that we should deem it impossible. But now, we cannot even work for free to gain some sort of knowledge about our field.
And that leaves us where?
I graduate in four classes, 12 credits, or a summer semester plus one class in the fall. I feel like a homeowner being put out on the streets. The University doesn't want me anymore, my Bright Future scholarship is dunzo, and the job world has no place for me! The only lifestyle I see fit at this point is to pack up all of my belongings, set up camp in the woods off of Alafaya Trail, and live off of the land.
That option sound much better than taking another dime from my parents. I refuse, it makes me sort of sickened inside each time I swipe my debit card for food and gas, knowing that I am spending someone else's hard-earned cash.