Career center employees need a reality check and better manners

You should get out of the library some time. Stop studying so much, do other stuff, have fun. You know ? I really pity you. Being Hopkins students, many of us have gotten used to hearing these statements, and being automatically stereotyped and categorized as over-studious and lacking social lives; though in most, if not all cases, this is not true.

When employees of JHU, who are meant to provide tailored services for us, fire these phrases at us, it gets me thinking about how much they really know their student body.

At this point, I'll stop beating around the bush and point my criticism at its rightful subject ? the career center. This office has made itself known to us by advertising its various workshops, proofreading services and helpful advice. Few attend these sessions, or utilize what the center has to offer. With very good reason.

Upon attending a resume writing session (none other than "Resumes and Cover Letters: 201"), I was told that I needed to write all the good things about me (really?); work experience relevant to whatever it is I'm looking for (hadn't crossed my mind); and GPA, if it's high (seriously?). The smiling recording that was giving the lecture handed out flyers and candy and left.

Having realized that this wisdom won't get me anywhere, I decided to schedule an appointment with, hopefully, a real person, and not a recording with a permanent smile. Two days later, in the smile's office, I was asked what "positions" I had held; and replied that I had held none. When asked about "leadership roles," I replied to the fading smile that I had held none. This loop went on for some five minutes, until the semi-permanent smile decided that I should "write about my achievements" (thanks!) and passed the hopeless case, myself, on to a student employed at the office.

This student was not a semi-permanent smile, but a bundle of cynical nerves. It is needless to say that the bundle of nerves was flabbergasted when it finally understood that I was not the president of a student-run group ("organization sounds better"); captain of a sports team; editor-in-chief of the News-Letter; an uprising musical prodigy; or the social service chair of a fraternity.

After reaching the shocking understanding that such people exist, the bundle of nerves (BN) draped an expression of mocking pity on its face. It suggested that I become one, preferably all, of these above personalities so that I would have another line to add to my resume. I, having shrank to half my size after realizing that all of the employees at this office were modeled after the same prototype, asked in a whisper "Don't you think it's wrong to do something I don't enjoy, just to add a line to my resume?"

At this point cynical BN erupted. It began to shoot me with poison filled darts ? "Get out of D-level. See the sun." (I've never been to D-level in my life, but I doubt BN was interested.) Needless to say, hearing this stereotype from a fellow Hopkins undergrad shocked me. I gathered my things and left the center, quietly and pensively, never to return. I can only quote the Rabbi Hillel in the Talmud "What is hateful to you, do not do to your fellow man.