Eventually took other jobs because I needed (and wanted) more money. I was a night receptionist, day receptionist, event planning assistant, public relations assistant, and even a nanny. I would have two or three jobs at a time. I constantly had some kind of income and I loved it. Eventually, I got my first "big girl" job as a teller at a credit union and I thought I made it.
I learned slowly but surely that finance was not for me. I loved my coworkers because they became my family, but it wasn't enough. During my second year in finance, I got my graduate degree and ran off to New York for a better and exciting life. I can honestly say that over the past two years, I've come to love this city.
New York City. Manhattan. Inwood. Dyckman. Academy. Vermilyea. Cumming. Seaman. Love.
New York drew me in like a moth to a flame and I got burnt. Eventually, I got my wings ripped from off my body and they were shred in front of my eyes. It was uncomfortable, highly unfortunate and it sucked. After about eight months, I proved myself worthy and the city gave me a break. Now, I have taped-up wings and a raincheck on success but not without a price to pay. There is always a price to pay.
With bright beady eyes Julie asked, "What is the biggest difference between college and now living in New York?"
I tried so hard to think of what the difference was, but then I came to a very disturbing realization.
My price? I made more money in college than I have New York, adulting.
I do not count college as adulthood. College is essentially the walk of shame before you start adulting. And I still don't have that down yet. I'm 24.
Let's just be real, for two seconds. We're friends, right? I was not born with a silver spoon in my mouth. Not even sterling silver. I do not walk around the city wearing red bottoms, carrying a Chanel bags, and hair in perfect shape. I do not have brunch every Saturday and I'm not clubbing every Friday night. I do not take cabs from place to place and, my friends, Time Square is an evil place. Sometimes, the subways smell like sewage and stale Burger King. Have you even had full frontal armpit exposure in the summer? I have. And don't get me started on the random drunk people that roam the city streets. Some Bostonian got excited for seeing a dog sitting on a horse on St. Patty's Day. My life is not like a movie and I'm not living a lavish lifestyle. But I'm happy and that's all I can ask for.
People throw out the standard of living being high and you can even suggest that I don't know how to budget my money. Hell, you can even say, "You made the choice..." But let's just get one thing perfectly clear: In college, I had a high school diploma with little work experience. I made okay money. Adulting, I have 3 college degrees and over seven years of real-world work experience. I'm making #MBFGW Gus' comments. I look at my bank account and I say sadly, "Why? Why you want to leave me?"
I think there is something really wrong with the picture.
On my third glass of wine, I've determined that my walk of shame is not quite over and I have a couple more strolls to go on. Which is the absolute worst. But what can I say? I'm just going to check this off as character building. I'll shine up my Payless heels to prepare for the tough road up ahead.
