Name: Christopher
Year: Senior
Major: Psychology
CFS Concentration: Business Field Studies
This is my second time doing CFS, and each week that I participate in the program — both the internship and the class — I feel like I walk away with new insight into the person I want to become. The first time I began CFS, my perspective on adult-life was a bit unrealistic. With little to no business savvy or professional experience to speak of, I was laughably sure of my future. A 22 year-old — and one who had seen more sunrises from going to bed late than waking up early, mind you — I had somehow come to the lofty conclusion that I could stoically will my way through three months of 40-hour work weeks with 6 AM alarms at any for-profit internship that would have me. There was no need to worry about my actual interests. After all, I just needed something to boost my resume a bit. How else would I land that lucrative, Fortune 500 consulting job after graduation? No CFS internship could ever stand between me and Easy Street. And by Easy Street, I mean the standard three years of brutal 70-hour work weeks and overnight flights with GRE studying, two jam-packed years of studying in my MBA, five more back at the Fortune 500, where I would elbow my way to the top of the company, where finally, a life of luxurious riches and my 30th birthday would simultaneously await me. My alarm was set for 6 AM. This would be easy!
I’ll spare you the details — it wasn’t. Three months of “gutting it out for the greater good” taught me a valuable lesson: nothing is more important than pursuing what makes you happy. Because I learned the hard way that boring 9 to 5 days leave just enough time before 6 o’clock banks close. And a 6 o’clock bank trip means 6:30 dinners. And 6:30 dinners mean showers at 7. And showers at 7 mean laundry ’til 8. Even if I read for class while I wait, I’ll finish reading at 9, which means homework will go ’til 10, when I’ll drink my tea, brush my teeth, change my clothes, check my phone, text “goodnight”. And then just before I go to bed, as I plug in my phone, I double and triple check — before I turn off all my lights — to make absolute sure that same alarm is set for 6 AM. I think to myself, “How do people balance everything?” This is getting hard.
I survived the quarter and tried CFS again with a clear head. This time, I would follow my heart: non-profit work! There would be no more office cubicles or fluorescent-lit rooms. We would be too busy aiding our local communities for any of that. Soup kitchens, Medicaid forms, hospitalizations, guardianships, psychosocial evaluations, treatment plan — any social service: you name it, I did it. It’s impossible to deny the feeling of fulfillment that comes with bringing good fortune to the misfortunate. Somehow, though, I still wasn’t satisfied. Some essential part of my being still felt restless. Last quarter’s internship days ended with numb relief and mental exhaustion. They ended with mild contentment this quarter — a frenetic energy kept by body alert through the afternoon, and lingered into the evening: a racing mind’s natural habitat. My brain was craving rubix cubes and jigsaw puzzles. The next day, as I logged therapy assessment notes for my internship, my absent musings rendered the hospital patient’s faces distant and blurry. Thoughts of Freud, Jung, free will, and determinism crept into my psyche. It was 2nd grade all over again: my circumstances were welcoming, but not challenging enough. Sure, a lot’s changed since my elementary days. I don’t fill those empty spaces by terrorizing the girls on the playground with my cooties. But if you’ve ever met a bored, under-challenged individual, you know that two things are bound to happen: somehow, some way, they will seek out entertainment; and somehow, someway they will find a challenge.
That’s just what happened. Boredom kept me on the computer after workdays. Mindless scrolling constantly led me to Facebook. Numb disinterest then brought me to Youtube. Exasperatingly cheap amusement brought me to the Northwestern website, and then, Canvas. Homework wasn’t due for another week, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to catch up some readings. So it began. I read for class. Then, I researched for class. Then, I began writing for class, and then theorizing for class. I drew endless connections from the course themes to actual life. My poor mother – she became the official sounding board for my business theories related to CFS. She’d pretend to follow along, as I talked about specialization trends in employment. Technological advancements in America, I told her, had brought management trends full circle: from agrarian private ownership, to assembly line corporations, to the rise of Mechanical Turk-like Internet freelancing — all towards a technological future of globally-dispersed economies filled with independent contractors with monopolies of expertise in hyper-specialized niche fields, and Mom, isn’t that crazy? If we took a time machine to 1950, every soul on Earth would have bet their house on the irreversible growth of global corporatization. She’d smile and nod, as I’d contemplate the paradoxical nature of our species.
The CFS class still runs from 8:00-9:30. At least, that’s when everybody leaves. I really like our class, and if it were up to me, complete ideas and conversations would take precedence over arbitrary schedule changes, especially late at night. And it just now dawned on me: maybe my experience with CFS gave me exactly what I needed. Twice! Maybe I needed that dose of for-profit company pressure with a healthy side order of mild non-profit life. Maybe it’s ok that business theory thrills me, but business life just never will. Maybe I just like to learn. You know, maybe my fervor for words and patterns would be a better fit for grad school. But who knows — I could be completely wrong. Maybe, just maybe, though — if CFS had never granted me the exposure to real- life experience, so I could know these things about myself — I’d never have questioned what career path I want, and I’d be out there somewhere, in a suit-and-tie, wrapping up some consulting interview at Deloitte or BCG, force-feeding myself lies about how badly I needed to get the job offer to be happy. Or, I wonder if maybe it’s all just a mental thing; and really I would thrive in these business careers with a positive attitude and open mindset.
Yeah, but then again, maybe not.