26 Sad Realities Only Underachievers With Ivy Degrees Understand
Yes, Mom, I know that Mark Zuckerberg went to Harvard too.
You vaguely remember your youthful promise.
The deep, dead silence on the other line when your high school guidance counselor asks you to speak to the kids about what you're doing now.
But the local pawn shop valued your "Most Likely to Succeed" award in the yearbook at $0 and a side-eye.
You are preemptively defensive about your entire life when your parents call.
You can't get hired as a barista because you never learned basic skills.
"30 Under 30" lists were invented by Lucifer. In the depths of Hell.
Your parents quietly and solemnly removed the bumper sticker of your school from their back windshield.
You talk more about your resentment toward Yale Alumni magazine in therapy than about your absentee father.
Several members of your graduating class now hold elected offices.
You've convinced yourself that your friends secretly call it "CoDUMBia University" because of you.
Your mom holds your diploma hostage so you can't burn it for warmth when you're delinquent on your heating bill.
Your college sweetheart married a member of a small but tasteful royal family.
You've burst into tears when some poor undergraduate from the alumni fund called.
You've burst into flames when some poor undergraduate from the alumni fund called.
Your former roommate has a yacht now.
Your dreams regularly feature dead US presidents, shaming you.
You've started telling people that your Brown sweatshirt is actually just a celebration of your favorite color.
You got caught shoveling food into Tupperware at an event at the Harvard Club.
If you ever run into this broad, you're going to have words.
Your retail colleagues started a rumor that you're an undercover reporter covering labor exploitation in American malls and now they won't talk to you.
The "Where Are They Now?" alumni email blast causes you more anxiety than getting your STI results.
You say "University of Pennsylvania" instead of "Penn" now to throw people off your Ivy scent.
You wish that the Dartmouth stereotype of being a school for drunk hippies was true.
You've driven through campus blasting, "What Have You Done For Me Lately?" by Janet Jackson, weeping.
You wince when you see your very famous commencement speaker on TV.
And even though you pretend to be happy for your successful friends...
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