A few years ago, I bumped into a boy I went to primary school with. The collision was bound to happen, considering I’m regularly at his house, tutoring his younger brother in maths (a subject I haven’t done since GCSE and am not at all qualified to teach), and yet it was awkward nonetheless. We started up some small talk in his kitchen, while I stared at his fridge magnets like they’re the most interesting thing in the world and notice the pinned written agreement to stop fighting with his brother. “I heard you’re going to Cambridge?” he says. “Yeah.” I say. He looks at me with something close to admiration. “Wow. So you’re like, set up for life.” I didn’t want to contradict him so I just agreed: “Yeah I guess so”

“There’s hardly time for grocery shopping, let alone ‘thinking about your career’”

Reader, I am now in my third and final year of Cambridge, and it has become increasingly obvious that I am not, in fact, set up for life.

The goal was to go to Cambridge and study history, because I love history and I could surely just figure out the career I wanted to do with it along the way. Cambridge has an amazing career service, with plenty of networking events and experts in fields willing to give you advice. There is one teensey tiny problem though – you’re given so much work here that there’s hardly time for grocery shopping, let alone thinking about your career. So you put it off.

“I spend most of my time taking a never-ending trail of kids to the toilet”

Then comes third year, and all of a sudden, whenever there is a lull in conversation, people start asking you about your plans after you graduate. And replying “I think I’ll probably watch The Graduate” is not a good enough answer. You suddenly realise that everyone around you already has a detailed Linkedin profile. You try to create one yourself, only to get a message from your mum pointing out that you look drunk in your profile picture, and should probably change it to something more professional (I wasn’t drunk, I just look like that). People who you thought were your friends start talking to you about doing a law conversion course. Everyone has already applied for a civil servant fast stream, before you can figure out what the fast stream is.

All those nights spent reading 18th century letters from doctors diagnosing women as hysterical are starting to feel a little bit useless. It’s hard not to spiral when you realise your life has been dominated by academia but you don’t actually want to do academia for the rest of your life so what else are you supposed to do, you have no clue, and nothing of value to put on your CV and why did you spend so long on the damn hysteria letters when they barely counted towards your final grade?

“It might be good to look up from your studies for a moment”

I have worked before, but, much to my shame, these were jobs I did purely because I needed money. I’m aware this may be a novel concept to some Cambridge students. Working to get by, I was told at the career event I panicked signing up for, is not the same thing as a career. I haven’t been offered any paid internship (hard to get offered something you haven’t applied for) and so my main source of income, other than tutoring in subjects I haven’t done in years, has been working at day camp for dysfunctional kids. I feel confident that I am one of the best workers there. Then again, this is not difficult, when my competition includes a woman that decided to, without notice, drop to the floor and go to sleep during one activity, resulting in me looking after the screaming five year olds on my own. I don’t think my three-year stint at this camp does much for my CV though. I don’t want to work with children and I’m unsure what transferable skills I learnt from this experience – I spend most of my time taking a never-ending trail of kids to the toilet and then having to hoist them up one by one so they can reach the incredibly high up bathroom sink because no one running the camp ever thought to buy a stool. Does that count as problem-solving skills?

Extra-curricular roles are also necessary for the perfect CV. Though I’m not sure working in the decor subcommittee for a June event that got cancelled is that impressive. So I’m trying to expand my extracurriculars – this includes writing in Varsity about my lack of career prospects, which I’m hoping will look really good to future employers. Younger years who wisht to avoid this third year existential crisis, it might be good to look up from your studies for a moment, question whether you want to do this for the rest of your life, and if not, start thinking about what else you’re going to do. Then, and only then, can you look back down at those goddamn hysteria letters.