Millennial Chronicles: The Big Girl Job

Photo by Christopher Gower on Unsplash

Sitting in my cubicle with little sheets of facts and numbers staring back at me while I hear neighboring cubicles typing and calling away I wonder, "what am I doing here"? The thought pops into my head from time to time and likes to pull up a chair and stay for a while. Honestly, I have no idea what to do; this is indeed the art of winging it, and somehow I fooled everybody. How they thought my 23-year-old self would be able to sell their products to business owners is beyond me. I can't even call to schedule an appointment for my eyes without practicing the speech in my head beforehand. 

The big girl job; that is the term I've used for this new adventure I started three months ago. Before this I was an hourly manager at a restaurant, and while that might sound like a big girl job, I can safely tell you that cussing in the kitchen in the middle of our high volume hour while running around with my head cut off and trying to soothe complaining guests is not a big girl job. That's what we call a clusterfuck of a career. Don't get me wrong, I lived for that job to the point of obsession. However all good things must come to an end.

After my beloved restaurant I called home closed down I was out on the streets trying to find a job that paid the same. With no college degree and only restaurant experience under my belt, I realized the struggle was real. That stupid little thing called pride got in the way, and I refused to accept a job 'lesser' than what I was doing. Lesson #1 in life; when you're out of a job the only thing you should be looking for is a job, any job. After a month and money dwindling into negative numbers, I decided it was time to swallow a little pride. I became a server at a small town restaurant.

It wasn't so bad. Wait...yes it was! I grabbed a job I knew I would get due to my friend being the hiring manager. It wasn't horrible at first; in fact, I loved it. The money was so great I only had to work 3 days a week, and it seemed the boss was a little sweetheart. About three weeks later I realized she was an idiot who liked to puke her idiocy on us in the form of yelling and her husband loved to sexually and aggressively harass women. My pride wasn't that low. Instead of being 'the help' that 'couldn't do a thing to save our lives' I decided to walk out and never look back.

Great, I'm out of a job again. Luckily it was around tax time, and my bills were low enough that I could survive one, maybe two, months without a job. Restaurants were out. This time I was going to get that 9 to 5 that every adult had. Unfortunately most 9 to 5 positions didn't see my resume as a great candidate. I was turned down before the interview process ever came up. I was trained in the art of interviewing from my old job; as long as I could get an interview, I knew I would be golden. Little did I know that the job market was so brutal to restaurant workers without a college degree. 

After a month of no interviews and a lot of apologetic emails for not wanting me; I finally got a call. The job was genuinely not something I ever thought I would get; it was that job we decided to send our resume to even though we know it will never happen. The world decided to throw a curve ball. Driving to the interview in the most professional looking clothes I could muster up all I could think about was not dry heaving in front of the office. Talk about walking into a building and feeling out of place. The interview was a series of questions thrown at me from two different people, and I shot it out of the park every single time. Four days later I got the call; the job was mine.

The day had come. Somehow this 23 year old who watches pretty little liars and waits until last minute to shower due to pure laziness just got a big girl job. Sitting in the conference room (damn, didn't think I would be saying that) my boss was going over all the paperwork, training, and appearance that came with the job. My head was officially spinning. I was by far the youngest person in this office and absolutely no experience.

Photo by Dylan Gillis on Unsplash

Today- Three months into this big girl job I am still freaked every single day. I have scheduled meetings with clients, conference meetings, deadlines, and a cubicle to type away for hours on end. I wake up every day and put on slacks and a blouse or a nice dress. I go to bed at a decent time to wake up and read the news, a factor that is a necessity for my job. Is this for me? I don't know. This is what I'm supposed to do for the rest of my life? I can't even decide what I want to eat for lunch let alone anything else. 

On my first day I got to meet with the publisher and introduce myself. His words are always the repeating verbiage running in my head when I have a freak out. With calming confidence he filled me in on being happy. "If you are not happy working here the first thing you should do is come see me to figure out if changes can be made in this company for your happiness. At the end of the day though, if you are not happy working here then don't. I will never be upset with someone who isn't happy with what they do. All I ask of you is to do what makes you happy." Damn. 

While I still come in to work unsure if this job makes me happy and I can safely say that being a 'big girl' isn't sitting at a desk for 8 hours a day waiting for the clock to turn 5:00. Being a 'big girl' means finding what your good at and what you like to do; and having the lady balls to go out and do it. 

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