I had an image of myself, gliding gracefully into Work Life.
I’d start my first day with a cappuccino in hand, sunglasses on my head; the wind rustling my hair just enough to get that ‘movie moment’ likeness. With a denim jacket slung over my arm, I’d glide across the streets in my four-inch high heels (like they were no big deal) and enter the towering building resembling Jessica Pearson from ‘Suits’: tall, elegant and ready for anything.
But that’s not what actually happened.
I ditched my high heels for sneakers before even stepping a foot out the front door of my house, tugged on the denim jacket two blocks from the building to combat the cool wind, and scuttled over to reception with a deer in the headlights expression on my face that must have clearly read: I’m just an intern – please help!
Fresh out of high school, still clinging to the graces of childhood but very eager to learn and grow, my first steps toward Work Life also signified approaching the status of A Somewhat Functioning, Sort of Independent Adult.
I didn’t strut into the building on my first day with sky high confidence levels or, stare down every task I was given with the knowledge that it’d be defeated within moments – but, in reality, my first day was pretty great.
I didn’t get lost on my way to the bathroom, remembered the names of the receptionist and security (which is always important) and successfully introduced myself (all day) without forgetting my own name.
So, you know: small victories.