I just got back from an internship career fair hosted by Rutgers… I spoke to three representatives from three different companies. There were probably around 150 people in the two rooms reserved just for this event. It was weird to think that every student was there looking for some type of internship or job. I wonder how many of them knew exactly what they were looking for. I myself was fortunate enough to speak with a man who worked at Goldman Sachs’ operations which is the exact department I am hoping to be in. We spoke for about ten minutes (which is rather lengthy if you consider how much traffic they were probably going to get) about what kind of person I am, what I do, and what Goldman is looking for. It went surprisingly well and it did make me want the internship that much more; however, on the way back to my dorm, I still didn’t feel great. I don’t know what that would take - a phone call? An interview? A giant sign that says “come work for us! (please)”? Maybe. I don’t know though… I feel like there’s so many people who are more qualified than I am. (Ha, that’s such a demeaning statement to read aloud.) They may even want it more than I do. All in all, I guess a part of me feels like I don’t deserve it or that it would be wrong for me to take an opportunity that they’ve worked so hard for away from them.
It’s like when you have a bag of Lucky Charms, you know, the cereal with marshmallows… the cereal that you only buy and eat because of the marshmallows.  Let’s say you’re the person with the bag of Lucky Charms one day in elementary school. You’re not the type to just pick out the marshmallows. Instead, you’re willing to eat the crappy “whole grain” bits first just so you can indulge and savor the marshmallows, all at once, later. How nice, right? Now let’s add to the picture: I’m your friend. For now, at least. I look over and notice that the ratio of whole grain pieces to marshmallows is irregular. You have at least two marshmallows for each crappy piece. Hey, I’m just going to swoop up those marshmallows. It doesn’t look like you like them anyway.
That’s not fair. You obviously valued those bits of stars, balloons, and clovers much more than I did. You deserved them more than I did because you’ve spent countless minutes enduring the taste of nothing from those non-marshmallows. You worked for a marshmallow-only ziploc at the end that you were rather certain you were going to have yet you were gypped.

I don’t want to be that kid who takes someone else’s Lucky Charms marshmallows.