Death to the Credentialocracy
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The summer after junior year, my college expelled me. Six years later I returned and graduated with honors. During the interregnum, I worked. But finding a decent job was tough. No matter how easy or rote the gig, every prospective employer listed a bachelor’s degree as a prerequisite to apply. I drifted from temp work to short-term project, barely scraping by. Then I came across a listing by a bank searching for an entry-level administrator. Amazingly, they didn’t say anything about having to have a college degree. I didn’t lie on my resume. “9/81-5/84 Columbia University” listed the dates I attended. I didn’t state that I’d graduated. Nor did I announce: “DROPPED OUT/LOSER.” Interviews went well and I was offered the job. It was 1986, my income rose from $10,000 to $17,000, and I felt grand. On my first day, though, after I’d quit my previous job, my new boss offhandedly asked: “You graduated, right?” “Yes,” I said. I needed…
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