I’m on the edge of my seat. Every time my phone rings or I receive an email, my heart races. It’s a terrible feeling – worse than waiting for a midterm or final exam grade, I’ve decided, because this is something that’s deciding my future: I’ve been waiting for two weeks to be accepted or rejected for a job.
The room was just a tiny bit hostile. The low din of chaotic conversation mixed with incomprehensible music and filled the room. A line of several dozen students snaked around tables, their normally colored clothing painted rust by the crimson lights of the room. Impatient and uncomfortable, they glared at the front of the line. A small moment of silence, then an eruption: half the room cheering, half the room cursing.
