My ghetto summer

In the third chapter of my upcoming graphic novel “Jayson Gets a Job,” Jayson visits an employment agency. This chapter is based on something that actually happened to me shortly after graduation, after my sure-thing job had fallen through and I was desperate for work. Despite everyone’s warnings that no legitimate agency takes money from the job seeker, I agreed to pay this agency a commission to help me find a job. Despite my credentials as a newly anointed Penn grad with a double major and stellar grades, my employment counselor, in attempting to sell me to potential employers, would describe me in a sing-songy voice as “a really nice guy…” No mention of my academic credentials, which began to make sense when I realized that none of the jobs she was submitting me for required even a high school diploma, much less an Ivy League degree. 
I told her I wanted to work in marketing; she sent me to a rubber stamp maker. I told her I was interested in publishing; she sent me to Sir Speedy. Things hit rock bottom when she asked me if I was willing to sell shoes. I actually went on the interview. The store manager made the astute observation that with my background, I would hit the door the minute something better came along. He was right, but the rent was due and I needed a job. I finally landed at a ghetto print shop that paid minimum wage, which in those days was $3.25. After taxes I was clearing all of $100 a week. And I still owed the employment agency $625, which I paid off in weekly installments of $25. It was a long, hot summer.