Did I ever think I’d walk practically barefoot in an office building? No, but these are the types of things that happen to me I guess.

The day that I thought would never come, finally arrived. I started my first big-girl corporate job in New York City. It’s an odd feeling starting the thing that 13 years of school plus 4 years of college supposedly primes you for. It makes it seem like the start of this new chapter has to have greater significance than the culminaton of all those years or else, what was all the fuss about? In reality though, the start of a first “big-girl” job is comparable to any first day of something. Picking out the perfect outfit, arriving obscenely early just in case the entirety of the LIRR breaks down, receiving the necessary equipment, listening to all the new information, and meeting the people you’ll be seeing every week for the foreseeable future. Broken down, the start of a first job that’s been drilled into us by our teachers and parents as being the utmost important goal we must reach in our young adult life is really not so profound. And I’ve taken comfort in experiencing that first-hand. As a new hire, I won’t be running board meetings or schmoozing clients over drinks like in the movies anytime soon. However, I do have the privilege of being the 22 year old girl with zero prior full-time corporate job experience. I have the right to be figuring it out and messing up along the way. And I’m taking full advantage of that right. 

Now let’s, as they say in the corporate world, circle back to the shoeless in an office building part of this story. It was my third day on the job. I particularly liked my outfit this day paired with cute little wedges. The office was giving out ice cream in the cafe to all employees so of course I hopped right on that long line to have a lick of nostalgia via a Good Humor strawberry shortcake ice cream bar. On my walk back to my desk, I felt a flopping on my right foot. The wedge part of my shoe came unattached and seconds later fully disconnected. I laughed nervously with the girl that happened to be walking next to me pretending I’m totally accustomed to this sort of shoe malfunction. I wanted to establish myself as the chic, young, working woman in this office, but wedges sans the wedge was not making that easy for me.I continued down the hall lop-sided with one wedge remaining until the other one started to give out too. I figured makeshift sandals were my best option so I beat the shoe to the punch and tore off the other wedge before it did so itself. I quickly ditched the wedges in the trash while no one was looking. When I sat back down at my desk I considered keeping this little mishap a secret from my colleagues (they would never realize my wedges magically morphed into sandals) and uphold the mirage of being the perfect young professional. But, I decided to not take myself so seriously and use it as a way to make my coworkers laugh. It’s a mishap I’ll never forget so early into my professional life and maybe a mishap that came in perfect timing to remind me it’s not all that serious and we’re all, collectively, still trying to figure ourselves out. 

I would like to note, however cute and funny this shoe malfunction turned out to be, I did in fact have pretty much a sheet of paper separating my feet from the questionable elements of New York City streets the remainder of the day.