Sellout season
As the semester started and junior year summer internships came to a close, the sellout season promptly began. Exciting offers from top tech, consulting, and finance companies filled my LinkedIn feed. I began to comment “Congratulations” on Facebook and Instagram announcement post after announcement post as my peers prepared for postgraduate life. I read as, following the initial boastfulness of revealing the cushy job that they have lined up, many expressed a feigned embarrassment that they’re “selling out” during in-person conversations.
The feigned embarrassment is a half-baked attempt to alleviate the guilt of entering companies with questionable ethics. This guilt is filled with irony and is pointless as people attempt to virtue signal—knowing that their career paths feed into unfair systems—and inevitably dismiss those facts. A common phrase, “You know how it is,” hangs in the air—the unspoken pride of receiving the job mixed with the shame of making the career choice in the first place. Maybe the shame comes from the faint voice of the vibrant and spirited first-years we once were, who excitedly talked about changing the world.
Ultimately, we shouldn’t be surprised that at the end of four formative years at a prestigious Ivy League university, many of us are funneled into top tech, finance, and consulting companies—places seen as crown jewels to already polished résumés. Universities within the Ivy League are often described as feeder institutions to these lofty companies; sociologist Lauren Rivera confirms this, finding that at Harvard, “over 70 percent of each senior class typically applies to investment banks or consulting firms through on-campus recruitment.”
Many of us at Columbia follow similar patterns as we study the way tech companies create algorithms that sow disinformation and discrimination, the way finance companies make profits out of others’ demise, and the way consulting companies create strategies for inequality. Yet after years of heated class discussions, intimate dorm-room conversations, and endless papers discussing the problems we see in our society, we accept offers from the very companies we once pointed fingers at.
A primary driver of the Ivy League sellout pipeline is the socioeconomic pressure many of us face, albeit to differing degrees. Many low-income students like me are burdened by the responsibility of fully supporting ourselves and the desire to give back to our families. We are often the first in our families to have the opportunity to build a sustainable source of wealth, and a cushy job with a six-figure starting salary is often the easiest way to get there. For middle-class students accruing debt as they attend Columbia, making enough money to pay off as much of their loans in the shortest time possible is a clear motivator. For wealthier students, who are less worried about tuition costs, there are high social expectations from their parents and communities to flaunt a respectable and well-paid position. Obviously, these pressures shouldn’t be equated, yet they all exist and push us toward these institutions that heavily recruit from Columbia. From the moment we stepped foot on Columbia’s campus, we were all taught the value of working at respectable companies.
Through early recruitment times, these companies prey on the Ivy League students’ anxieties, uncertainties, and desires. During my first few months at Columbia, I was already engaged in conversations about upcoming recruitment opportunities, discussing jobs with upperclassmen, and meeting alumni at these top companies. The companies present themselves as an inevitable option by bringing recent graduates and current students as key parts of their marketing. Many of us spent the last few years before Columbia obsessed with college applications and admissions to the top schools in the country as an affirmation of our intelligence and a clear sign of success. However, once we get here, we are tasked with the challenge of defining our own success, and the routes are seldom clear. Even with a burning desire to change the world, we are pushed down the monotonous path of “selling out.”
Many of us use the same values that guided us into Ivy League colleges for our careers: prestige, stability, and opportunity. These companies advertise themselves to Columbia students as just that: They highlight the prestige of their name, the job security, and high salaries. They note that no matter your major, you can learn the work through on-the-job training. Most importantly, even if you don’t want to work there forever, the companies claim to be great launching pads into any career path. They are an opportunity to gain stability after you graduate with plenty of time to figure the rest out later—and without risking total failure. As susceptible students at Columbia, these recruitment tactics point to an easy answer.
We are all susceptible to “selling out” because that’s what prestigious institutions encourage us to do. The same desire that got us to Columbia in the first place—success—extends to our job search. As we figure out our next step, chasing the golden goose of recruitment into top tech companies, finance firms, and consulting agencies is a tempting choice. The environment of the Ivy league pushes us to let go of our desires to impact the world in a meaningful way. Instead of reflecting on our futures, we trade our aspirations in for the business casual and padded pockets of a corporate job.
Many of us sold our souls the moment we accepted admission to Columbia before we even knew what we were doing.
Kwolanne Felix is a student at Columbia College. This article was originally published in The Columbia Spectator and is posted here with permission from Kwolanne Felix.
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