Rookie year presents challenges, rewards

Waiting for my row of cap-and-gown-clad classmates to be ushered to the stage at the spring 2004 commencement, I realized that in moments, I would no longer be an intellectual student but a destitute, jobless bum. My University of Florida experience combined hard work and hard play, and as I turned my tassel, I visualized my playtime slipping away, to be replaced by more and more work in the name of success.

Like most of my classmates, I went to college to earn a degree, learn, grow and find out more about who I am. I accomplished my goals:

  • Become a Florida Cicerone. Check.
  • Become a Journalism and Communications Ambassador. Check.
  • Earn good grades. Check.
  • Minor in French and Spanish. Check.
  • Study in Paris. Check.
  • Publish an article in Seventeen magazine. Check.
  • Graduate. Check.

On graduation day, I officially became an adult. As a first-generation college grad, I shared this with family members who were just as excited as I was. When I hugged my dad after the ceremony, he had the biggest smile I’d ever seen on his face. I told him it was the most significant day of my life. My dad, a man of painfully few words, beamed, calling it the most important day of his life, too. Time to get out the Kleenex. I was living in a Hallmark card.

The days following commencement proved profitable. I felt as if I won the Showcase Showdown on “The Price is Right.” I collected cash, prizes and a trip to Hawaii. But as the hot summer dragged on, I realized my graduation ATM would eventually run out and, due to an unexpected car fiasco, I soon found myself at my parents’ financial mercy. When Mom and Dad declined to give me the $528 I needed for repairs, I argued I had a six-month grace period. They didn’t buy it.

Soon, my boyfriend, sorority sisters and relatives joined my parents in questioning my plans. It seemed I couldn’t go five minutes without someone saying, “So what’s next?” or “Do you have a job lined up?” They sent me employment ads from various Web sites: Personal assistant to a celebrity. Wedding planner. Event coordinator at Disney World. President of Home Depot. Personal shopper in Sacramento. Reporter for The New York Times.

It’s almost as though they didn’t believe the job requirements applied to me. “WANTED: Contortionist, must be fluent in Mandarin Chinese and have expert knowledge of feng shui.” My mother would certainly say, “Well you speak French and Spanish, and you love Martha Stewart and gymnastics, so you should apply.”

Although I felt encouraged that they thought I was talented enough to do any job regardless of my qualifications, I wished everyone would just leave me alone to figure out my future. I didn’t want advice – at least not from my relatives. If a bona fide public relations professional wanted to offer some wisdom, or better yet, a job, I would have listened gladly. But when my mother, who still saw public relations as a glorified version of telemarketing, tried to tell me what kind of job I should have and how much money I should make ($50,000-$100,000 starting out), I turned blue in the face.

I wasn’t ready to commit to five days a week. It was summer, how could I be expected to start working right away? And I surely didn’t want to miss out on Spring Break, winter holiday and daily siesta. And what about these crazy eight-hour work days? I only had class three days a week my final semester. Plus, I like to get at least eight hours of sleep and I’m not much of a morning person.

In July, Mom informed me I needed a reality check. And a paycheck.

My boyfriend’s mother once told me, “If everything was going smoothly at home, and if you always got along with your parents, there would never be any reason to leave and go out on your own.” After a summer with the parents, I got it. I finally had the motivation to work five days a week with only two weeks of vacation. It was the grown-up realization for which I waited and I owed it all to my parents for driving me nuts. Thanks, Mom and Dad!

I put my faith in getting an internship in Atlanta for the fall with the hope that it would buy me some time before settling for a “real” job. I faced getting an apartment for 12 weeks, though I had no furniture and, thanks to my car fiasco, no money. I couldn’t afford a security deposit or first month’s rent, so I moved in with a friend of a friend. I assumed a 25-mile commute would be a snap. In Atlanta’s hellish gridlock, it took an hour and a half each way. And remember when I whined about eight-hour workdays? Well, it was more like 10 hours. Although I learned an immeasurable amount about the public relations industry, I never imagined I would be using a glue stick after college. Anyone who has completed a public relations internship knows about clip books – I just didn’t realize people used glue sticks in the “real world.”

After working and driving all day, I only had about an hour at home before I had to get to bed. Plus, since I had no furniture, I slept on an air mattress. After six weeks of misery, I decided to move into the city, pay the extra rent and sleep in a real bed. I found a furnished room in a fabulous house with a maid and wireless Internet. And it was only an eight-minute drive to work. Sure, I wasn’t making more than I did as a restaurant hostess in high school, but all that mattered was that I was finally living the life I wanted.

My supervisors never mentioned hiring me. My internship was scheduled to end at Christmas and I spent November frantically searching for an entry-level PR position in Atlanta. All the jobs I found required much more experience than I had. I accepted I would have to “pay my dues,” but what about my resume that I worked so hard to put together in college? How about all those organizations, challenging classes, published clips and minors in foreign languages? I wondered if it was worth the effort if I still couldn’t find a decent job in a huge PR hub like Atlanta?

In college, if you wanted to be at the top, all you had to do was say it. But in the real world, I realized I wouldn’t automatically be in charge. Oh, the humility! When someone as bossy as I am is at the lowest rung – well, it sure seemed like a long way up and I’d rather take the elevator. I knew if I failed to find a public relations position, I would have to venture out of my field. I was scared that once I stepped out, it would be impossible for me to return to the exclusive agency setting.

One Wednesday before Christmas, I scored an interview for an internship at Ogilvy Public Relations Worldwide, which was down the street from my house. I thought it went pretty well, I meshed with the people and their clients seemed like a blast to work for. I got myself all excited and stressed and nervous about getting the internship, because I knew if I didn’t, I would be packing my bags for Florida.

The following day, a week before my first internship was to end, my boss called me into her office and shocked me half to death by offering me a full-time position. Finally, a salary and benefits! If only she would have offered me the job before I interviewed for the internship. I had already convinced myself that the internship was the best opportunity, and I wasn’t quite sure if I was ready to make any serious commitments to a job or to living in Georgia. I almost hoped I wouldn’t get the internship, sparing me the process of making a tough choice. However, the next day, I received the offer.

It was my first true grown-up career decision – and I’m sad to say I didn’t handle it well. I was a nervous wreck, not knowing if I should take a risk and try out some new clients and experiences or be safe and take the job at a place where I felt comfortable. On one hand, the internship offered something new. Uncharted territory always seemed more fun than the path already traveled. Then again, I thought it might be a huge mistake to pass up a salary and benefits when they were in my grasp. I spent the weekend agonizing. Since graduation, I’d been focused on finding a golden opportunity – that great job that would lead me right into adulthood, success and happiness. But with these two choices, I felt more like an indecisive teenager.

After talking it over with my parents and praying about it all weekend, I made my decision. Immediately I knew it was the right choice. Having a full-time job with a salary and benefits wouldn’t determine my happiness or success – ultimately, I would. So I chose the risky venture, the internship with no guarantees, but with lots of opportunity to understand the industry before I settle in for the next 40 years. I’ve always known that no matter how great my job is, it will never be so important that I start to succumb to making “proper” decisions just so I can maintain the status quo or impress people. Now is the time to take risks and make mistakes – when I’m young and independent.

Some people thought that I made a crazy decision, and who knows? Maybe I would have regretted it if I didn’t eventually get hired. But, after six weeks at Ogilvy, I received an offer for a full-time position as an assistant account executive.

Working at Ogilvy has changed my outlook on the business world. In just a few months, I’ve been able to put into practice the lessons I learned at UF on various corporate, consumer and health-care accounts, including Lipton Tea, Stiefel Laboratories, Wayne Farms LLC, Carolina’s Healthcare and my personal favorite, the Brand Atlanta Campaign. I’ve traveled to Las Vegas for a trade show, seen my releases in newspapers across the country and managed an intern. Working at Ogilvy has exceeded my expectations.

Each day is a new challenge – but I love it because I can write, be creative and learn about the PR industry all at once. Before graduation, I couldn’t imagine myself enjoying the working world, but now that I’m in it – well, it gets better every day.

Despite this year’s often overwhelming challenges, setbacks and disappointments, being a recent graduate has been a wonderful period. I’ve decided never to officially grow up. I hope to always take a little of this “just graduated” feeling with me, and always look for what’s next.

Angie Orth, PR 2004, is a former communigator staff writer.