The Dilemma
IN the scatter storm that was spring semester 2007, I found myself, along with the vast majority of the junior class, precariously balancing an exhaustive internship search along with the normal academic workload. The Public Policy Studies degree (my major) actually requires an internship to be filled in the government or non-profit sector. I was (fortunately) disqualified from any financial or business-related internship – the i-banking/consulting recruiting blitzkrieg that storms Duke in late January is a beast all of its own... At any rate, I had a relatively specific sector to which my internship search would be targeted. This, in essence, meant that I was carpet-bombing my résumé into the office of every think tank, government office, and 501(c) in Washington. Because I’m on financial aid, non-paid internships were out of the question. I would find a paid internship!
Not surprisingly, K Street disagreed. I received decline after decline. By mid March, prospects were grim.
Eventually, by way of a rerouted e-mail, I learned about the DukeEngage New Orleans program at just about the same time I cheated and applied to a for-profit, private corporation that had managed to fall under the PPS internship umbrella, as a “government sector” job. The corporation? The military contractor, Raytheon International. While lacking the notoriety of a DynCorp or the shadow-factor of the Carlyle Group, Raytheon certainly does its fair share of arms dealing.
Telling people I was interviewing with a defense contractor typically drew two different responses: trigger-happy gung ho praise, especially from Halo obsessed slackers and most of my male friends; and mildly veiled disappointment from some of my more idealistically attuned peers who thought that at the tender age of twenty-one I was already selling out to help make war machines. As finals approached, I had narrowed my options down to DukeEngage NOLA and Raytheon.
It actually turned out to be quite an ironic choice dilemma, given that my summer options could essentially be delineated as 1. sell missiles; or 2. help people. (It would probably be fair to say that Raytheon was also paying, as well.) Of course, nothing is quite as black and white as 1 and 2, and so for a two week period I debating the pros and cons of both choices. I made it through the 2nd round at Raytheon and had my final interview scheduled a few days after my last exam. Amid research papers and final presentations, I debated what I had slowly managed to construe as one of the most important choices of my young life (Destroy or create! Profit or non-profit!) I started to add unnecessary weight and meaning to the decision. And so with oh so serious alacrity, I set about seeking advice from my family and friends.
I asked my roommate what he thought. “Financial security, Michael. Don’t think that you have a guaranteed job out of college. Don’t think that 30k in loans will be a cute little capuchin monkey on your back. It’ll be a fat and pissy half ton gorilla.”
I asked another one of my friends. “Spending a summer picking up trash so you can feel good about yourself is pretty odd, Mike. What difference are you going to make, anyway? But you still got to ask yourself: you trying to get yours first?
My sister disagreed. “If any place needs people, it’s New Orleans. Don’t you want to have an edifying summer experience helping people? Do you think you’ll get that in Duke in DC?
I asked my father. “Never been to New Orleans. Sounds pretty neat. Although I’ve been doing a little research Raytheon. That’s the kind of company you’d want to find a job at after you graduate.”
My mother, as usual, made a concerted effort to hide her real opinion and suggested I do whatever sounded best. I finally turned to my brother, to whom in times of crisis I typically genuflect and ask. He had originally been very much in favor of Raytheon, but he called me later during finals week to express his ultimate opinion.
In a few words, he swung a red state blue.
“Mike, you’re going to spend the rest of your life in an office. Don’t be in such a rush to put on a suit. I’m sure you’ll be in DC sometime in the future. But I’m not so sure you’ll ever get a chance to be in New Orleans.”
It made a lot of sense. My brother took the business route after college, bouncing between Chicago, Boston, and Connecticut along a path to “financial security.” Perhaps he is jaded on the suit and tie culture, but I grant him the wisdom of a brother five years my senior. And I’m not bull-headed enough to ignore that.
I call Raytheon the next day and cancel my interview.
***
And so for a summer, I say no to the private sector; no to a suit; no to the imagined prestige I associate with big corporations and government. I pull an about-face and say hello to an ill-planned and oddly placed trading post on the Mississippi River.
Let’s take our chances with that jet plane over there, with the fleur-di-lis emblazoned on the wing. I think Dulles can wait.
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