What Happens After I Graduate from College?

You graduate. You put on a toga. Your parents take approximately 347 photographs. Someone gives a speech about
following your dreams. You receive your diploma.

And you heave an enormous sigh of relief. Finished. No more exams.

Hahaha. That’s what you think.

The exams are just beginning. The difference is that from now on, nobody gives you the questions.

No more attendance checks.

Hahaha.  You have another thing coming.

Try not showing up for work for three days and see whether anybody notices. They will.

In college, you can occasionally be absent and still pass. At work, they have developed a more sophisticated
attendance system.

It is called: No work, no pay.

No more grades.

Wonderful. Your boss will not give you a B-minus. He may simply decide that somebody else should have your job.
Suddenly, a B-minus doesn’t sound so bad.

No more deadlines from professors.

Correct. Now the deadline comes from a customer. The customer has an interesting grading system.

There are only two marks: Satisfied. And I’m taking my business somewhere else.

And then you go home to celebrate your new freedom.

Your parents are waiting.

For approximately twenty-two years, they have fed you, housed you, educated you and provided an allowance.

They hug you. They tell you how proud they are.

Then your father asks a strange question: “So, when are you getting a job?”

Something has changed.

Yesterday you were: Our child, the student.

Today you are: An unemployed adult living in our house.

Same bedroom. Completely different status.

 

Your allowance may also graduate

Nobody talks about this during commencement. Your diploma is not the only thing reaching the end of its academic
life. So is your allowance. For years, money mysteriously appeared. Food appeared. Electricity appeared. Wi-Fi
appeared.

Someone paid tuition. Someone bought toothpaste. You may never even have known how much toothpaste costs.

Then you graduate. And gradually you discover one of adulthood’s great secrets: Everything costs
something.

• Transportation costs money.
• Lunch costs money.
• Your phone costs money.
• Rent costs a frightening amount of money.

And apparently the electricity company does not accept: “But I graduated with honors.”

Welcome to adulthood.

 

The questions disappear

This may be the biggest surprise. In school, life is wonderfully organized. The teacher gives you the
problem.

Question 1…

You answer it.

Even when you don’t know the answer, at least somebody has been kind enough to tell you what the question
is.

Work is different. You arrive on Monday morning.

Nobody says: “Please identify the three major problems currently threatening the company. You have two
hours. Show your solution.”

It would be lovely if they did. Instead, 

• sales start declining.
• A customer complains.
• A supplier fails to deliver.
• Two employees stop speaking to each other.
• A competitor launches something unexpected.
• AI changes part of your industry.

And everybody continues working.

Nobody announces: “Attention. A problem has now begun.”

You have to notice it. That may be the real examination after college.

First, discover the question. Then figure out the answer.

 

And there is no answer at the back of the book

This is another inconvenience.

In school, somebody usually knows the answer.

• The professor knows.
• The textbook knows.
• Google probably knows.

At work, you may ask five intelligent people what to do and receive six answers.

Then someone looks at you and says: “What do you think?”

This is very inconsiderate. You have spent years being rewarded for finding the correct answer. Now you discover
that many important problems do not have one.

• Should we raise the price?
• Should we hire this person?
• Should we launch the product?
• Should we trust this supplier?
• Should we expand?
• Should we believe what the AI just told us?

There may be evidence. There may be experience. There may be good arguments. But eventually somebody has to
exercise judgment. And sometimes that somebody is you.

 

Nobody tells you what subject you’re taking

College has another kindness you may not fully appreciate until you leave it.

Problems stay politely inside their subjects.

• Accounting problems appear in Accounting.
• Marketing problems appear in Marketing.
• Operations problems appear in Operations.

Very civilized. The real world has apparently never seen a course syllabus.

A business problem may simultaneously involve finance, technology, psychology, regulation, marketing and one very
angry customer.

You cannot say: “Sorry, customer relations isn’t my subject this semester.”

The customer will be disappointed to hear that.

Perhaps I should go back to college

At about this point, the newly minted graduate may begin to panic.

Wait.

• No attendance checks—but no work, no pay?
• No exams—but I have to discover the questions myself?
• No grades—but the customer can leave?
• No allowance?

I have to buy my own toothpaste?

Suddenly, college begins to look remarkably attractive.

• You remember the campus.
• The cafeteria.
• Your friends.
• The professor who actually told you what chapter to read.

The beautiful simplicity of knowing that the exam would be on Friday and would cover Chapters 6 to 9.

You begin to think: Maybe I should go back.

• Take another degree.
• Perhaps a master’s.
• Perhaps two master’s.

Why rush into adulthood? College was wonderful!

Utopia!

You rush to the Registrar. “I’ve decided to continue my education.”

Excellent.

Then someone from Finance gives you the tuition schedule.

You smile.

“No, no. There must be some misunderstanding. My parents pay this.”

There is an awkward silence. You call home. “Dad, I’ve been thinking seriously about lifelong learning.”

Your father has also been thinking seriously.

About retirement.

And then comes the terrible news: “Of course you can go back to school. You’re an adult now. You can pay
the tuition yourself.”

“But Dad, education is an investment.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s why it’s time you became the investor.”

Suddenly the workplace doesn’t look quite so bad.

“What time do I report on Monday?”

 

There is some good news

After everything I have just told you, you may be reconsidering graduation.

Don’t. There is something wonderful waiting on the other side.

Your life increasingly becomes yours.

• You begin earning your own money.
• Making your own decisions.
• Discovering what you are capable of.
• You meet people who change your direction.
• You succeed at things you thought were beyond you.
• You fail at things you were absolutely certain would work.
• You discover opportunities nobody mentioned during Career Day.
• You may change jobs.
• You may change careers.
• You may start a company.
• You may discover that the career you planned at eighteen was merely the first chapter.

And slowly, sometimes painfully and sometimes hilariously, you learn to depend upon yourself.

Perhaps that is what really happens after graduation.

 

So, enjoy the ceremony

Wear the toga. Take the 347 photographs. Hug your parents. Thank your professors. Celebrate with your
friends.

You earned it.

And when somebody says: “Congratulations! No more tests!”

Smile politely. Don’t spoil the party.

You will discover soon enough. The tests haven’t ended. They have simply changed.

• There are no question papers.
• There is no answer key.

Sometimes nobody tells you that the examination has started.

And the most frightening part? It’s an open book.

• You can use Google.
• You can call your friends.
• You can ask your boss.
• You can even use AI.
• And you can still get the answer wrong.

Congratulations, graduates.

Welcome to the final exam.

It lasts approximately the next forty years.