Off the Waitlist
A fictional short-short story
I got into 7 of 8.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised: 3.96, 99th%ile GRE, worked in an on-target lab, even did “community service:” I created an app to match disabled dogs with adopters.
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I didn’t much mind only getting waitlisted at #8 — Harvard — until everyone started on me: What do you mean, you’re not going to try to get off the waitlist?!
So I wrote a letter to an appropriate professor at Harvard. No response. I wrote to another and he wrote back but didn’t offer to nudge the admission committee. So I wrote to admissions, mentioning that note and that if admitted, I’d welcome the opportunity to be his graduate assistant — Universities love research slaves. Still nothing, so I decided to fly to Boston and meet with an admissions person. It worked.
Now, I’m sitting in front of the form that asks for my deposit. I had been so focused on getting in, but at the moment of truth was forced to think about whether I really wanted a Ph.D. in mathematical physics. Even from Harvard, that doesn’t guarantee a good, stable job. And even if I get a vaunted professorship, most research ends up barely moving the needle. Meanwhile, some of my fellow math majors are earning a fortune on Wall Street. My reverie was broken by the Pied-Piper tinkling of an ice cream truck with two kids running toward it. I stared.
I read this aloud on YouTube.
Marty Nemko is a career and personal coach specializing in scientists. His 36 books include How to Do Life. You can reach him at mnemko@gmail.com
