Eloi, Eloi, lama sabachthani?
Yesterday Ian and I went to a job fair held at WPI. We dressed up and laser-printed our resumes. We went and shook hands for an hour. I gave out seven resumes to seven companies I would really rather not work for. Half of the companies there were defense contractors – a very secure group of companies right now, but basically the far end of the spectrum from what I want to do. I don’t know if I could morally work for an organization whose job was to design killing machines for a government whose policies I don’t particularly support. Even so, I gave several of them my resume because they always need technical writers. Ian, on the other hand, feels no compunctions about working for defense contractors; and for their part, defense contractors seem to eagerly snap up electrical engineers with a focus in communications. It seems we won’t go hungry after graduation, even if I’ll be ashamed of where our living comes from.
All of the companies who came were from the Northeast. I wish somebody had told me – or that I had realized – that going to a school in New England would mean that all the job opportunities are in New England too. I don’t like New England and I don’t want to live here, but it seems inevitable that Ian will get a job with Raytheon or somebody like that and we will have to stay here. Now a long future of horrible summers and freezing winters stretches before me, years in which we’ll see our families maybe once. It’s very depressing to realize that I have almost no hope of living and working in Washington or Oregon, or even in the same time zone as my family.