…join five clubs and attend none of the meetings.
…JOIN FIVE CLUBS AND ATTEND NONE OF THE MEETINGS.
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Remember that rush? The campus activities fair, a sea of ambition and free pizza. We signed up for everything – the Mock Trial team, the Investment Club, that obscure group dedicated to analyzing 18th-century poetry, and of course, a couple of those highly selective societies you just *had* to apply for. We stacked our resumes before we even knew what we wanted to do. It was less about passion, and more about perfecting that narrative for the next internship application, wasn't it? The unspoken competition was fierce. Not just for grades, but for the most impressive string of extracurriculars, the most prestigious summer gig. We were constantly building our "personal brand," often at the expense of actually showing up. How many of us proudly listed a club on our CV that we attended exactly once, or maybe just paid the dues for?
This wasn't just about clubs; it was "prestige behavior" ingrained in our DNA. Every choice felt like a stepping stone to a specific career path. Wall Street, consulting, tech, grad school. We navigated networking events like strategic battlefields, perfected our elevator pitches, and spent hours crafting cover letters that sounded authentic but were ultimately designed to impress. The pressure to justify our acceptance, to prove we belonged, was palpable. It shaped our academic choices, our social circles, even our weekend plans. We lived in a world where "busy" was a badge of honor, and every waking moment felt like it needed to contribute to our future success.
Looking back, was it all necessary? Or did some of the most meaningful experiences happen in those quiet moments, outside the structured, resume-building activities? The late-night dorm talks, the unexpected friendships, the classes that genuinely sparked curiosity, not just career potential. It’s a shared secret, a collective wink: we all played the game, we all felt the pressure, and we all learned something valuable about ourselves in the process – sometimes, simply that we could survive on four hours of sleep and still look presentable for an interview.