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It was my first post-college job, but you would have thought it was my first day of high school. Like the skinny underdeveloped pubescent that takes her first steps through the big double doors of a new school, I once again felt like I was walking into an entirely new world, where people older and more stylish than me were walking and talking way too fast, and I was doing whatever it took to act like I belonged. Just like I had done 8 years prior, I spent the entire night before my first day obsessing over what color shirt I should wear, whether I should put my hair up or down, and if my purse was trendy enough. I set my alarm clock for an hour earlier than I really needed to get up, just to make sure I had plenty of time to prepare for my day. I realized that after four years of high school and four more years of college, I hadn't changed all that much; I still was trying to look and act older than I really was, and first impressions still made me a nervous wreck.

I did one final review of all the necessary tasks I had done to make sure I looked good on the first day- I had gotten a manicure (I knew I would be shaking a lot of hands), washed my car (God forbid anyone see me walk out of a scummy ride), and made sure my overpriced highlights were updated (nothing tackier than roots, right?). Every measure was taken to make sure I was confident and presentable that first day. I was definitely looking and feeling slick-now all I had to do was work my natural charm and make that office fall in L-O-V-E with me!

I showed up appropriately early that Monday morning and strutted down the hall as my new grey pumps- or my "big girl shoes," as I like to call them- click-clacked on the tile flooring. Ahead I could see through the clear glass double doors of my office, where early risers had already poured their coffee and begun catching up on emails. The hustle-and-bustle of the office at only 7:30 am reminded me of the fast-paced environment of public relations I was entering into, where you either sink or swim in a sea of bullshit. I opened the doors and was immediately inundated with ringing phones, speed-walking, and multiple conversations going on at once. People, mostly women, barely glanced at me as I entered the office, obviously uninterested in the child-like thing that had just come in. The sweet natured receptionist greeted me with a smile and reached out her hand to shake. She looked nice, but you could tell she hated her job. Her chipper voice and welcoming demeanor

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