Class of ’08.

My son’s longstanding girlfriend listed for me at the weekend the whereabouts of her fellow English graduates of 2008. Three years on their careers have taken off in multifarious directions;

1-     Shop assistant

2-     Tamworth Ski Dome bookings clerk

3-     Receptionist x 2

4-     Trainee midwife

5-     Barmaid

6-     Blockbusters counter staff

7-     Ladbrooks counter staff

8-     Taking a PhD

9-     Teacher x 3

10- Upholsterer and wedding invite maker

11- Considering being a burlesque performer

However comforting it is to know the person taking your bet, or passing you a DVD has the capacity to engage you in an interesting conversation about James Joyce’s Ulysses or take their cloths off tastefully should you have a spare moment one wonders if it’s worth the three years study and £30,000 worth of debt. One did briefly write for a local free newspaper but left finding her talents were being used for immoral purposes. Laughing said girlfriend also added the consequences of her degree;

1-     Loss of interest in reading

2-     Pain of rejection

3-     Debt

4-     Feeling of inadequacy

She added with a hint of venom, “I wish someone had told me before I did it.”

I wish universities would state in their prospecti, “This course will provide you with the opportunity to work at a crap job for minimum wage or, if you can still afford it, retrain in something more useful.”