Last Tuesday I, along with hundreds of eager Cornell students, attended the General Interest Career Fair in Barton Hall. At the time, this seemed like a very reasonable thing to do. After all, I am a senior, I have lots of general interests and I have no plans for my life beyond Graduation. Perhaps you might even think of me as the ideal candidate. Unfortunately, you would be wrong.

What Cornell Career Services failed to mention was that by, “General Interest Career Fair” they really meant, “Business and Engineering with a Side of Retail Management Career Fair.” Sure, the event featured the traditional Peace Corps and Teach for America tables, but other than that, I found myself lost in a labyrinth of consulting firms, investment banking booths and computer engineering specialists.

Which brings me to another point: getting around the Career Fair is about as simple as acing organic chemistry. While I assumed that the visiting companies would be organized alphabetically, Cornell had a different plan. Being the sensible Ivy League institution that it is, Cornell devised an entire complex formula for placing the companies in their respective locations. Fortunately, Career Services was thoughtful enough to provide students with a handy map. Armed with this, and a compass, I was able to navigate my way in and out of the suit-clad aisles.

Ah, the Suits. Perhaps my favorite element of the Career Fair is that I get to see my fellow classmates decked out in pin stripes and Donna Karan. It’s almost as if the whole campus trades up their Cornell insignia sweats for some serious designer ensembles. In fact, I enjoy this aspect of the Fair so much that I find myself paying more attention to the students than to the recruiters. Is that the same guy who was dry-heaving outside of the Palms? Wow, he cleans up really nicely or Oh, I’ve never seen her hair straight before. And, where did she get those shoes? No, more importantly, where can I get those shoes? By this point in my reverie, someone rushing by me inadvertently stabs my right arm with their complimentary Morgan Stanley pen. Back to reality — after all, my future is at stake here.

I finally decide that it’s time to approach one of the 200 recruiting tables. The only problem is that I have no idea where to start my tour. After a few minutes of wandering around Barton, I decide to develop a rational system to help me determine what companies to visit. I decide that the tables with the shortest lines seem like the most suitable careers for me. I end up at a booth called “Turner Construction” because it fits my criterion the best. “Does this job require manual labor?” I ask the woman. “No, but ideally we are looking for engineers. However, we do have administrative positions available for the management of our construction sites and plants.” Okay, I don’t have to drill anything… it can’t be that bad. I shrug, give her my resume, and make a mental note: From now on, try to apply to jobs that do not involve heavy machinery. On to the next table …

Since my whole “shortest line” strategy was only marginally successful, I decide that I need a new game plan. In a stroke of brilliance, I resolve to mimic the behavior of the well-suited students around me. So, I pull out my resume, place it on top of my folder, and stand next to someone who is deeply engaged in a conversation with a recruiter from Goldman Sachs. I try to make sense of the business jargon that is being exchanged between the two. I eye the AEM major next to me suspiciously: Why does he keep using the word “leverage?” What does he think he’s trying to pull? I chime in, “So, does your company have a marketing division?” “Yes, and the drop dead date was three days ago.” I’ll show you drop dead. “Oh, okay, thanks.”

Feeling defeated, I walk around listening in on the conversations of students and alumni around me. The phrases “MonsterTrak,” “Resume Drop” and “Behavioral Interviews” are continuously thrown around. Here and there I come across a few “Mock Interviews.” Thinking that I myself could use some interview practice, I ask the girl next to me where I might sign up for a Mock Interview. “Are you in ILR?” she asks. Negative. “Oh, well, I don’t know how it works in the Ag School, sorry.” Great. Although disappointed, I decide that no Mock Interview is worth four years of learning about labor economics or collective bargaining.

Feeling worn out by the hustle and bustle, I allot myself enough time for one more table visit. Since one of my former sorority sisters is manning the Deloitte booth, I head over for a chance to chat her up. It’s all about networking, right? Although she tries to help me out, I am clearly out of my element. You see, not knowing what consulting is does not make a good impression on an actual consultant. Hold on, you want me to offer strategic business advice to other companies? Sorry, I had a hard enough time figuring out how to get to this booth. Thank you for the pen.

Panic time ensues. I run into the bathroom, call my mother and inform her that I have, in fact, no future and that perhaps I should consider attending law school or grad school or maybe even both. Instead of fueling my panic, she calmly responds with, “Relax. It’s just Cornell.” And then it hits me: It’s only September.

After a minute of putting the whole “future” thing into perspective, I realized that there really is no need to rush things. I’m only 21 years old — I have the rest of my life to work. In fact, I don’t want to know what I will be doing for the rest of my life! Maybe I will take those LSATs. Or maybe I’ll drop everything and jump on the next plane to California. Maybe I have a future — a happy future — after all …

Relieved that my first class of the day will be starting in fifteen minutes, I put my resumes away, scurry out of the congested aisles and head for the Exit. Ah, the Exit… finally, something I do not need a map to find.

Naomi Goldin is a senior in the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences. She can be contacted at ngg6@cornell.edu. Kit and Kaboodle appears alternate Wednesdays.