At the Corner of Unpaid & Avenue Q

by Liz Galvao

Last night I was standing in a hot room on the sixteenth floor of a high-rise in midtown Manhattan, surrounded by a dozen or so ridiculously cute little girls and their mothers, who varied from your typical high-strung stage mom to the patient good sport. One of the former stood two feet away from me, talking into her cell phone. “I don’t know, they don’t seem to be very organized,” she said, sounding irritated. I clutched my clipboard and smiled at her.

I’d gotten the gig, helping out with auditions for a short indie film, through a friend of mine (an ‘09 graduate from another college) who’s been working on the project as a casting assistant. There was some franticness due to crawling Lincoln Tunnel traffic and a shortage of scripts, but overall it was a fun couple of hours that we capped off with diner food and True Blood once back in New Jersey. The fact that it happened on the same day that I’d gotten called about a different unpaid gig made me start thinking about unpaid work in general, and why so many of us have ended up doing it.

In my freshman econ class, my professor told us not to worry about the upwards of $160,000 that our education would cost, for we would earn substantially more because of it. Yet here I am. In a week from Saturday I’ll be attending my class’s 100 Nights After Graduation party in a city I hoped I’d be living in by now with nothing but unpaid work to my name.

In the car, my friend sang songs from Avenue Q, remarking that lately she can’t stop thinking about how true the lyrics have become for her.

What do you do with a B.A. in English,

What is my life going to be?

Four years of college and plenty of knowledge,

Have earned me this useless degree.

I can’t pay the bills yet,

‘Cause I have no skills yet,

The world is a big scary place.

Five months ago, over our last spring break, I bet her fifty dollars that she would have a job by graduation, as she’s one of the most ambitious and driven people I know. I’m relieved she hasn’t remembered our bet. She told me that when she entered college, graduates of her major had a record of 100% job placement in the entertainment industry. Of the graduates of the same major in 2009, not one has an industry job. My smart, highly qualified friend is currently doing mind-numbing temp work at an insurance agency.

I want it to be clear that I’m not whining. I understand it’s a difficult time for many people, regardless of age or college degree. My father, the Baby Boomer, is out of work, too. The other day he told me, “I’m worried that with the unemployment you might get depressed. I know myself it can be frustrating. I just wanted to say,” and here he began to yell, “Don’t get depressed! We have enough to deal with!”

And that is basically my message. Unemployed of America, I share in your frustration and disappointment. I share in your dwindling bank accounts and rapidly receding periods of health care coverage. I share in your hours spent on Craigslist and dozens of resumes and cover letters sent out that receive only silence in return. I share in your terror when receiving mail from your student loan lenders, and I share in your unbridled joy when receiving a ten-spot from your Grandmas. I share all of these things with you, Unemployed of America, but still I say to you, DON’T GET DEPRESSED! WE HAVE ENOUGH TO DEAL WITH! Find a way to be productive, even if it doesn’t pay, and even if it’s just writing for your friend’s blog. And believe me when I say that it helps.