All it takes to graduate from UW is a mouse click. When you get to the graduation application page, there is no pull-down menu, no ""On Wisconsin"" playing in the background after clicking ""submit,"" no confetti or flashing graphics. It makes it really easy to forget graduation will one day happen. I took care of my clicking late one night, promptly fell asleep and removed all thought of entering the post-graduate world from my mind. It would all work out, wouldn't it?
But then one day, I came home to find my roommate Jill was pacing, clicking on news links and mumbling something incoherent about the IRA.
""The stock market fell like 400 points,"" she said. I shrugged. ""Ugh! This means my Roth IRA is going to be making even less than the 15 cents it was bringing in before.""
""You have a retirement plan? You're 22.""
""I've only had it for a few years,"" she said, matter-of-factly. ""Besides, if you don't start planning now, where will you be in 30 years?""
I shrugged.
""Have you thought at all about graduation?""
I hadn't. It was something distant, far off, like Christmas or springtime. I didn't think it would actually happen. And then I looked at the calendar. The color drained from my face.
Big, bold words in red flashed before me—debt, past-due notices, resume, cover letter, power suit. The room started spinning.
Roommates weren't any help. While Jill seemed as if she would have a heart attack over my lack of financial planning, Mary, my other roommate, in an effort to empathize, told me she views ATMs as ""magic machines that give away free money.""
That was too much for even me.
""But don't you balance your checkbook?"" I asked.
At least I got to be flabbergasted by something.
""It should be illegal for me to have a checkbook,"" she said, chomping on a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. ""This is like an actual problem, like a disease.""
I needed help. I signed up for a financial seminar.
The following Tuesday night, I found myself in Grainger Hall. Everyone in the seminar had me beat. Dressed in perfect business casual fashion, busy networking and probably born with an understanding of Microsoft Excel, they had me beat.
Someone in the back raised his hand.
""So, I was just wondering, what time of the year is it best to buy a house? Would you recommend January or December?""
His question was followed by a girl in a pinstripe suit with shoulder pads that screamed business.
""What are your feelings about overseas investing?""
""Should I buy stock in the company that publishes Harry Potter?"" a third person interjected.
Thinking about my student debt load, I slumped in my chair, and looked at two charts. One, labeled ""Accumulation,"" had a line sloping upward along an axis labeled ""Begin Work."" The one next to it, ""Distribution,"" had its line gently sloping downward along an axis simply labeled ""Die."" What was the point of knowing what stocks are doing well, what mutual funds to invest in when all you really want is a list of well-to-do families with eligible children in their 20s... or 30s or 40s?
My post-graduate life started flashing before my eyes. It was full of cats, a stamp collection, soap operas, ""Tyra"" and my parents' couch.
I shrugged. I guess if Switzerland can overcome its historic neutrality to invade Lichtenstein, I will have to get ready to graduate.
Need to learn how to balance a checkbook? E-mail Caitlin at cfcieslikmis@wisc.edu.
