My old co-workers always talked about parties and high school drama and recent drug experiences. Problems were limited to troublesome boyfriends and girlfriends along with parental disagreements and how hard it was to save properly for a car. We got to wear sneakers and trade shifts and leave early if we didn't take our break.
But now I have grown-up job. The business-casual kind. The kind where everyone around me is either married or engaged or finishing school and starting their career. The kind where I'm quite literally the youngest employee here.
Suddenly, I'm the five-year-old in second grade again, running around aimlessly like a beheaded chicken doing what I'm supposed to be doing on paper while still being generally inept when it comes to basic human relations, with every conversation a ham-fisted attempt at rapport. I can't deal with people unless I make them talk about themselves.
I miss my free rentals but this place looks far better on a resume.
My days usually go somewhere along the lines of...
...so I kinda wonder how I ended up in dress slacks and dress shoes.
Oh, well. At least I still get to wear a name tag.
