Stage 1: Chaos
Nothing prepares you for working full time, especially when the most experience you’ve had up until this point is that shitty high school job you only clung to so that you that your parents would hop off your dick and stop bugging you about using their money to fund your wardrobe. College has been hard, but at least you had the liberty to tweak your schedule so that you could sleep until a reasonable hour (2PM). Now, you’re not only expected to be at work at the crack of dawn, but also look presentable and–dare I say it– professional? Slow down, life, I’m not ready for this whole “adult” thing that everyone keeps talking about. We all know that if you had it your way, you’d be watching crappy reality TV by day and setting up shop at the closest bar by night. Now you’re waking up before sunrise to shower, and falling asleep hours before what would be an optimal pregame time. This is madness.
Stage 2: Hatred
“LIFE ISN’T FAIR, WHY IS THIS HAPPENING TO ME?” -you, every day of stage two. Your friends are off galavanting in the sun with exotic summer flings, and it’s safe to say you hate everything. Despite the fact that you’re making bank or racking up internship credits, you’re majorly jealous of everyone whose biggest concern thus far has been running out of sunscreen or getting so hammered that they can’t remember how to tap a keg. It is in this stage that you experience a great hatred for social media and a strong internet connection, because you’re stuck flipping through pictures of your best friend getting shitfaced on a beach while you spend your days doing your middle-aged and power hungry boss’s bitchwork. You keep reminding yourself that this is only for the summer, only to receive a swift reality kick to the groin when you remember that this will actually be the next forty years of your life.
Stage 3: Acceptance
Once you have comfortably adapted to your job and figured out exactly how much of the day you can bullshit without your boss batting an eye, you’re probably looking for alternate sources of entertainment. The internet is awesome, but you can only spend so much time refreshing your favorite pages and checking in on your ex’s summer abroad before spiraling into a deep, corporate depression. The next logical step is to insert yourself into the various, albeit generally boring lives of your coworkers. You spend way too much time in the break room, digging up any dirt you can because honestly, the lack of gossip in your life at this current point and time is downright disgraceful. At least you’ve made an office bestie to talk shit on your least favorite people with. That bitch knows every detail of your life, from your weekend sexcapades to your mother’s most annoying habits.
Stage 4: Indifference
Even though you used to put major effort into the way you looked and acted around your temporary coworkers, you’re slowly losing all concern towards your overall appearance. You start to look worse and worse, ultimately because you’ve come to terms with the fact that the copy boy will never love you (even though you two are obviously meant to be). You’ve been at your position long enough to become abnormally familiar with those around you, to the point where you know exactly how many times a day the dude in the cubicle in front of you leaves to smoke a cigarette or how many times the receptionist has repeated an outfit. You’re so over the idea of trying to look cute. Throwing back a coffee in eight seconds flat is your new morning routine. You don’t even care at this point. You just gained another hour of sleep.
Stage 5: Denial
As the end approaches, you begin to panic. Sure, this job sucks and you’re so pale that you’re practically translucent, but you’re not actually leaving soon, are you? This can’t end. What are you supposed to do without the constant inhalation of shitty coffee? How will you live without listening to your coworker talk obsessively about her children, about whom you now know every intimate life detail? Is it even possible to convert oxygen into carbon dioxide without seeing your favorite, cheerful janitor every day? Leaving this job will be even harder than enduring it, and you’re not ready to deal with the irresponsible children you call classmates. You’ll probably spend the next year of your life reminding them that you’re a grownup because of all the adult-ing you did at this tedious, wonderful place..
Nice Move495
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Lucky Jo
Lucky Jo is a former and current TSM writer who likes her men how she likes her coffee: way too hot and unforgivably bitter. She graduated from the University of Missouri in 2016, proving that C's do in fact get degrees. She now spends her days working for a social media marketing agency, hiking with her dachshund, and trying to bring back the scrunchie. Hate mail and goat memes can be sent to lucyjmulvihill@gmail.com.
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