Friday, September 23, 2005

This is the part where I say, “It’s fate.” During a company lunch today our boss waltzed into the room and, in a germane capstone to our week on all things aural, handed each of us an iPod nano. I’ve never owned Apple products, though I’ve heard they’re above the curve. The company is certainly beyond capitalizing product names fully, but I must say: the nano is indeed a thing of beauty.

You know how there are people who enjoy frequenting the places they left? Let me explain. In high school, for instance, you could count on a few graduates to attend a club meeting religiously, even though they were well into freshman or sophomore year in college. And then a similar thing happened in college, where alumni appeared with such regularity that you’d question whether they ever left. I’m not talking about visiting once or twice. I’m talking repeatedly.

I’ve been on campus multiple times in the past two months, and although the purpose of my returns is slightly excusable–to expel bright yellow posters upon every trafficked billboard–I still feel some of that stigma, some of the desperation. This coming week will be the crowning touch, with an overpriced career fair on Monday, followed by a harrowing downtown expedition on Tuesday, where my co-worker and I will wade through a potential flood of art students for hires. My highly trained recruiter’s eye tells me to find candidates who a) will eat at places other than Whole Foods and b) can comfortably write on paper they haven’t woven themselves.