I complain a lot about my English degree

I  complain a lot about my English degree and how people with English degrees don’t get paid like engineers unless they get a law degree too, but to be honest I have met or heard of dozens of successful people who incidentally happened to have an English degree. I believe that if you’re a tiger and a go getter you can do well no matter what degree you earned, but if you’re not a tiger or a similarly type-A animal, you should study engineering. I’ve actually toyed with the idea of abbreviating my degree as “Eng.” on my resume, just to get by HR keyword searches.
I’ve developed my own theories to explain why English degrees might be undervalued by businesses. Most people would tell you that business managers want to be lean and want results, and hiring someone to just write things when technically any college graduate should be able to write, and when there might not be a business need for cleverly worded essays every day, seems like a waste of money to most of them. Why not just hire an engineer who can write?
And many people in the sciences definitely believe that English degrees are easy degrees, and that therefore the people with English degrees haven’t worked hard or learned to problem solve like the science majors have, so that a bunch of soft-headed poets with no grasp on reality have glutted the job market.
To clarify, no engineer or manager has used those harsh and judgmental words in my presence, I have interpolated their formless, nonverbal twitches and mutterings and as an English BA can form those thoughts in a more verbally direct manner.
Forgive me, I mentioned that I have my own theory: Humanities studies have suffered an evolutionary reversal similar to what peacocks might suffer if wild dogs developed a lasso. Previous to this hypothetical lasso, young people of the upper classes invented English and other Humanities degrees to learn art and poetry, in order to impress potential romantic partners or spouses. Nobody saw any actual utility in an English Degree, it functioned like a magnificent peacock’s tail to impress other young people by its utter uselessness, back when a person’s uselessness signified
At this point you may believe that I am about to say, in agreement with prevailing belief, that the job market was the lasso, but I believe it was the Civil Rights movements of the 60s. The purveyors of English and Humanities degrees, like High Priests, had used the so-called Dead White Males of British Literature as their Idols, and used the DWM’s Works as their Magic Totems, in order to add the facade of sanctity and seriousness to the peacock’s tail. The egalitarian values of the Civil Rights movement eroded and discredited the DWM’s authority, and so destroyed the romantic magic of the English degrees. Young people sought out alternative forms of magic; rock music and beat poetry, sourced by the new Idol of Social Activism. Some High Priests stayed true to the old idols, but the rest switched to align their teachings with the new egalitarianism. They escaped the worship of the DWMs, but in the mad rush to Social Activism, they unhinged the bread and butter roots of the degrees, the utilitarian mechanics of writing and textual analysis, unfortunately associating them with the old hierarchy. They trained a generation of English BAs with uplifted values and sloppy, unfocused writing skills. The orthodox High Priests denounced these methods, but even more unfortunately, associated them with the new Social Activism. The engineering faculty, who respected the old

 Humanities DWMs as the gods of a neighboring tribe, viewed the new, lose, free wheeling Humanities curricula with contempt.
So the state of the humanities at the time of my own studies. I took classes with both sects, and as you might expect I did not take a side. I chose a Creative Writing emphasis, as you might expect, but I enjoyed the disciplined critical analysis classes, as you might not expect.
The University of Utah offered a creative writing MA, which I did not pursue, because I believed, and still believe, that you need to find something to write about. The people who believe that you need to find something to write about will usually, after arriving at this decision or realization, boldly go off to Antarctica or New Guinea, offering up their mortal frame to the tribulations of unpleasant weather or unpleasant people in order to compile a database of sufferings to spin into lucrative, matter of fact accounts that readers like me will devour appreciatively in the comforts of the suburbs. I didn’t do that either, so I followed a third alternative, listless pursuit of unpleasant careers. So that’s what I have to write about.