"Well, it's a growth market, and I'm sure you'd get to meet the most interesting people," I replied, obnoxiously smug, knowing that my own postgraduate plans consist of finding a graduate school that will agree to take my money in exchange for sheltering me from the blistering responsibilities of the "real world" for two more years.
This has been a common conversation recently among my friends and I, or at least I presume it has been. I can't be sure because I usually tune out my friends when they talk to me about anything other than how funny my last column was.
Occasionally though, some of their words manage to penetrate my mental defenses, and I'm pretty sure I've heard the words "interview," "resume" and "job" tossed around quite often, especially in conjunction with the word "worried" or, more often, the phrase "I'm so fucked."
Another friend of mine from back home, let's call him Matt, as that is his name, e-mailed me recently asking, "What the hell am I going to do with a degree in television?"
I thought I remembered Sally Struthers telling me a long time ago that you could make more money (which, sure, we all want to do) if you got a degree in television, but then remembered that, in fact, she was peddling degrees in television repair.
I was stumped. "Are you good with babies?" I asked.
Fortunately, Matt had already realized that a degree in television would be a good starting point for a career in, would you believe, television. He outlined the long, arduous, ass-kissing-intensive path from lowly production assistant all the way up the ladder to lowly scriptwriter.