When I graduated from college, I wasn't exactly sure what I wanted to do with my life. I was a Communications major so there was not one specific skill I acquired. I packed my bags in South Carolina and headed back to my home turf in New Jersey. I scoured newspapers and websites for marketing and public relations jobs in the tri-state area. I landed a job that was disguised as a "Marketing position where the sky was the limit" in Philadelphia. On the first day, I dressed myself in my only suit from Macy's and was paired up with two other girls in their twenties. We were sent on a embarrassing mission to walk into businesses unannounced and try to get them to change their credit card machine provider. People screamed at us, chased us out of their stores, and pointed to the no soliciting sign on their door. It was a nightmare. The company never disclosed we would be cold-calling in random neighborhoods in Philly during my interview. I instantly learned the lesson that sales was not for me and never went back for a second day. I think I left a message on the answering machine that I was never returning.
A week or so later I had an interview at Bloomingdale's in the King of Prussia mall outside of Philly. I had dreams of being a buyer. I explained that to my interviewer and she told me that I could work there as a retail associate and if I did a good job, they would recommend me for buying program in NYC. While that was my life's ambition, I couldn't rationalize working as a "cashier" after graduating from college when there was no guarantee they would eventually send me to NYC. In retrospect, I probably should have given it a chance if that was truly what I wanted to do, but I was too worried about my ego and how other people perceived me.
A few weeks after that I went to dinner with some of my best friends from high school. They told me they would be moving to NYC in a month and wanted me be their roommate. I desperately wanted to. I had fantasized about living in NYC since I was a child. Although it was a tempting offer, I knew I couldn't commit to a huge security deposit and paying $1300 in rent a month without a job. Afterall, I just graduated college, I was poor. Although I knew I would live to regret it, I declined the amazing offer. My friends were however sweet enough to invite me to stay with them anytime I wanted so I could come up and job-hunt.
In the meantime, being as confused as ever, I went for an interview to be a flight attendant in Atlantic City. Of course I got the job as it appeared that anyone who could speak English was given a chance. I rationalized that with the flexible schedule this career provided me (one week on, one week off), I would have plenty of times to look for jobs in the city and go on interviews during my time off.
For almost a year I would take the casino bus from Atlantic City to New York City a few times a month. During my visits, I would meet as many head hunters as I could manage and schedule an interview with anyone that would have me. I went to places like Parade Magazine, Chantecaille, and as many other offices in marketing, fashion, real-estate, etc that you could imagine. I had a head hunter tell me that I did not type enough words per minutes. I fell in the middle of a busy street on the way to interview, ripping my pantyhose and outrageously scraping me knees. No worries, I stopped at Victoria's Secret on the way and bought a new pair. But alas, I had no connections. While I came close a few times, I was never offered a job. My deal was that I would not officially move there unless I had a guaranteed paycheck.
While I didn't find a job, I loved walking the streets of the city between interviews. Getting to know the neighborhoods, stopping in stores along the way, and always finding something new and interesting to see.
That year I also applied to grad school for Counseling in Educational Settings. Since I got in, the choice was made for me. That was the path I would be taking. When I pictured my life when I was younger, I saw myself wearing a short skirt and glasses, to show that I was fashion-forward, yet still intelligent. I was in a sleek, modern office with huge windows in some fabulous city. I was doing something creative and I was important. My ideas mattered.
While I love my life, it is not necessarily the one I thought I would inhabit. Part of the reason I think I will always love Sex and The City is no matter how much the girls age and how predictable it may be, those women are living the dream, my dream. They reside in the greatest city in the world, have creative/impressive jobs doing what they love, and of course possess the most amazing closets we could imagine . While that may not be my reality, it's important to remember it's never too late to go after what you truly desire.
Here's to the courage to be like our girls! Is there anyone else who would be willing to watch them well into their 80's? Now that I am thinking about it, I would love to see them recreate a Golden Girls type show in 20 years!
