I may have mentioned that I’m interning at the company that I used to be not-so-happily gainfully employed at. Yeah, I did a whole “I’m OUTTA here” thing, but they’re paying me to do work I know how to do and the schedule is beyond flexible.
I share an office with a fellow intern for the eight hours a week that I’m there. She’s sweet and funny and from the same part of the country as Crockett. Let’s call her… Rochester. She’s tiny and voluptuous and just all over adorable. Picture Snooki, except cleaner.
Rochester is having a very very bad time. She graduated from college in the spring and took the summer off to ice skate. (I know, I’m confused too. When I asked her to explain the whole summer time ice skating thing, she said ‘oh, it was a tour’. That didn’t help.) She’s now back here, working 40 hours a week as an intern, while she looks for a full time permanent job.
She is absolutely fucking miserable.
She hates it at our company. She got a degree in finance but she doesn’t know what she wants to do with it. She is living with her parents because she doesn’t want to commit to an apartment only to end up with a job forty miles away. She’s dating (half the men on our floor have dirty thoughts about her regularly, and at least one of them is totally in love with her) but she’s not really into anyone.
She is the definition of a woman entering a quarter-life crisis, and I want so badly to help.
I want to tell her that she is not alone. I want to tell her that this passes – that you do, in fact, move towards whatever is right for you. I want to tell her that seven years ago, when I was her age, I was lost. I had grown out of my relationship but was still in it. I had a degree that I hated and no clear picture of what on earth I could possibly do instead. I ended up working a series of low paying but rewarding jobs, followed by jobs that gradually inverted that ratio – and at some point I discovered that I wanted to get the fuck out of corporate America. I discovered that I want to learn, and that for now that’s all I need to know. I want to tell Rochester that she will get there too – that Laura and I both went through this, and she’s not alone.
But I don’t want to sound like some old lady. I might’ve listened, if someone had told 22 year old Emma all that, but I might not’ve, and I have to share an office with this girl.
Instead, I’m encouraging her flights of fancy. Last week she was bound and determined to pack up and spend 8 weeks in Italy, and I spent all day helping her realize that sure, she might go broke, but she could make it happen. Today, we’re discussing an executive admin position she’s interviewing for at a local software company. Sure, it’s not what she saw herself doing, but everything gets you somewhere.
For now, that’s what I’m telling her and myself.
Everything gets you somewhere.