For the longest time, I believed that I would go to a top college, get good grades, end up in grad school, graduate with a Masters or a PhD, and make a bunch of money programming or creating art or writing novels or educating the next generation. I would get married to someone I loved, optionally have some kids, and spend my life’s earnings taking care of my parents and buying cool new technology and a lifetime of video games.
When I was nearing my high school graduation, I narrowed down my career options to “computer science,” because my dad said at some point that I had a talent for it, and creative writing didn’t seem like the most viable career option. I realized that my grades were not as stellar as they could (should) have been, so I would have to settle for a less-than-perfect university, but that was okay.
Several years into undergrad, I realized programming was something I could do. It was something I sometimes excelled at. It was something I sometimes enjoyed. As I took more and more classes on programming languages and algorithms, the more it all felt like a chore. I wasn’t particularly interested in a life dedicated to optimization and coming up with technical solutions to everyday problems. Even with my major in Computer Game Science, I felt little interest in actually programming the games I’d loved to play.
At this point in my life, League of Legends took up most of my waking moments. I had a horrible sleep schedule and even worse class attendance. I spent all of my time either playing games or talking to people about playing games. I got mediocre grades… even failed a class or two. Regardless of whether this was due to my lack of self-control in the new environment that college allowed (or thrust upon) me, I realized my life was beginning to revolve entirely around gaming. I also met a lot of good friends, some of which are still my best friends today.
I was never very interested in clubs or competitive sports or tournaments of any sort, but I slowly became more engulfed by the expanding gaming community on my campus. I reluctantly became an officer of the League of Legends club one year, and basically all of my friends and classmates were club members.
At this point, I solidified my belief that I wanted to work in the game industry. I loved playing games, I respected the talent that went into making them, they were a huge part of my daily life, and I found a lot of joy working on gaming events. My focus turned entirely to participating in and supporting the gaming community at my school. I focused more on my role within the club and soon became president, albeit rather abruptly. I organized and ran a series of successful events. I felt like I was good at what I was doing, and overall, I got quite a lot of positive reinforcement in that direction.
Suddenly, I was in the middle of a movement. Esports was growing rapidly and society – or at least big corporate sponsors and the media – was beginning to accept the concept. My school, already somewhat known for its talented gamers, was becoming one of the leaders in collegiate gaming. I started getting more involved in the industry as well. I worked with people from Riot Games and Blizzard, focusing almost all of my time making the club I now ran bigger and better. This landed me an internship at the former company, and I was completely in love with (and in awe of) what I had become a part of.
Now, I was gaining confidence. I’d felt for several months that I was thrown into a battle against expectations and new responsibilities, but the waves were beginning to calm. I saw myself working on community efforts within the game industry, and having some experience under my belt, I felt almost qualified.
The doubt began when my internship ended, and I did not receive a return offer. I didn’t have enough industry experience, or the teams I’d worked with didn’t need more people. Although I understood the reasons I was given, I still felt the blow. Nonetheless, I kept an eye out for job openings. My summer in LA had convinced me that I had to go back. That was the core of gaming as I wanted it to be. That was success.
Doubt began creeping back into my life several weeks later, when I found a listing for a role I believed was a good fit. I applied with almost no hesitation, especially when a couple of friends had noticed the listing as well and asked if I was trying. However, I’d already begun to wonder: am I actually qualified? Have I, somehow, been faking it all these years? Do I, maybe, still have no idea what I’m doing?
The interviews were going well. Still, every time I received a new email scheduling the next phone call or meeting, the doubt increased. Do I deserve to get this far? Are they making a mistake? What do they see in me? I was so afraid of getting my hopes up about actually landing a dream job at a dream company straight out of college that I was hardly surprised when I received my rejection.
That was just a few days ago, and I’m already at a loss as to where I should try next. What exactly are my tangible and valuable skill sets? What makes me desirable to any other role or company? Have I been tailoring my experiences too specifically? Is this even the dream career I’d pictured it to be?
I’ve started to regret my decision to move away from computer science. Sure, I’m still not thrilled about programming, but a degree in computer science probably leads to more stable jobs with better income. Did I make the mistake of placing all my bets on something too narrow, too risky?
A part of me still believes I have no reason to be worried. I don’t need a job the moment I graduate. I still have some time to figure out what I want to do. I’m not a failure in life just because I got rejected from one fucking job. I believe I’m decently smart and have varied talents.
Yet, where am I supposed to start?