Thursday, June 21, 2007

When the market is imperfect and the master gets in the picture.

One of the criteria that define a perfect market is the full and complete knowledge by the actors of the elements of the markets, most notably prices and information.

Now, what does it have to do with me. Yesterday I faxed my acceptance of the place that was offered to me to the MSC-IB programme. Today I was supposed to go transferring the 1st semester's fee, but a technicality (called work) prevented me, which is not a big deal as I will do that tomorrow morning. Those two acts, together with the subscription of a health insurance, will seal my fate for the period going from mid September 2007 until later January 2009.

And here it comes the imperfect market. Not only I'm jumping into his thing without a real and objective knowledge of what this programme will be able to give me in term of work opportunities, but I'm doing it without even knowing, still, if I'll be able to keep my job as a backdrop plan, as my HR department failed to answer my request for a sabbatical year within the deadline I had. Practically speaking, in a matter of months I will probably find myself with no sure future and no sure past to get back to.

Most of my friends, when they hear I'm going forward regardless, make a strange face when they do not tell me right away that I'm insane leaving a "sure place". Considering the European job market in general and the Italian one in particular they might actually be right. Between the mere chance of a better future and the reality of a steady job with benefits and health coverage paying already one and a half times the average Italian salary (although with little or none prospective of career), most of them would just go for the second, if faced with a "either or" choice.

But, ironically enough, even if at times the idea of a possible, total, utter disaster clouds my thoughts, that's the least of my concerns. Maybe is my Italian side, but I'm more concerned about leaving my family: a triple-bypassed father who thinks he can do just about everything someone in his twenties can do and a mother who is already showing the signs of the typical Italian motherly "he's leaving home" crisis. I'm concerned by the lack of information about their well being while I will be away and if everything will be ok with them.

I'm more concerned, and my mother got it perfectly right by instinct just as well as some friends of mine, that should I leave without a place to get back to, I would be forced to look for a job while abroad and consequently stay there indefinitely. The lack of information about where I will end up troubles me more than the lack of the one about what I will be doing, I do not know why.

Then, I'm concerned by something that most of my friends, well, the not Italian ones at least, take for granted, meaning living on my own and even worse, even if I hope so, with someone else, at least for the months I'll be spending in Germany. I do not know if it happens to all the ones who leave their house for the first time or only to overly pampered guys in their 30s, but the idea of being on my own for the menial tasks of grocery shopping, cooking and, my goodness, ironing is fascinating and horrifying at the same time. Having to keep a straight balance and make ends meet without having incomes worries me more than having to sit through lessons taught in a foreign language.

And yet, I'm eager to start and put myself to the test. I just want to see if I can, after years my brain has been working at 10% of its capacity (at most), face university once again and in subjects that are not even vaguely familiar to me (and some even scaring, like finance... me and maths have always been a troubled relationship). To boldly go where no friend of mine has gone before and face hurdles and challenges that, as I said, makes some of them tell me straight on my face that I'm crazy.

To be honest, I'm also praying God I'm not making the greatest mistake of my, at this point not even that short, life...

1 comment:

Michela said...

il coraggio va comunque sempre ammirato.
Per ora davvero mi sento solo di augurarti in bocca al lupo e darti una sonora pacca sulla spalla!