Tequila/Monk

December, 1986

December 17, 1986

It's December, 1986, and I'm graduating from A&M with a bachelor's degree in Aerospace Engineering. My graduating class consists of 33 students, only 11 of whom have jobs. The other 22 of us weren't quite so lucky. Despite a 3.8 GPA over the last four semesters, paying all my college bills myself, and holding a variety of jobs, including working as a bartender for the last 18 months, I'm unemployable in the aerospace industry.

(A funny story here: As I got ready to graduate this semester, the people in my department call me in and tell me I've never taken Aero 101. I said, "Of course not, I wasn't here until I was a junior", to which they said, "You have to take it." Long story short, there are four classes full of Aero Engineering wannabees, each one with over 250 students. That's over 1,000 Aero students coming in, and my graduating class being only 33, I spent most of the time counting who I thought would make it, and who wouldn't.)

(Tequila wrote that last paragraph.)

I've given up on the OBE world. They happen when they want to happen, and I can't figure out how to control when they will occur. Sometimes they happen when I'm tired, other times they happen when I'm well-rested. They've even happened several times after I've gone out and had margaritas; I'll wake up around 3pm sober, go to the bathroom, come back to bed, and the vibrations will kick in.

Whatever triggers those things, and whatever really happens once they start, it doesn't matter. I need to get very serious about finding a job.

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