Now that it’s August 10, weeks of interning have flown by, and I can officially call myself a business professional — kind of.
Funnily enough, I don’t feel any different.
I don’t own three cell phones or say things like, “I’ll pencil that in between my 2 p.m. and my 4 p.m.” I don’t wear blazers and heels to the grocery store — or even to the office most days — and I don’t order expensive drinks.
Instead, when I got home from work yesterday, I abandoned my briefcase, changed out of my dress and spent half an hour jumping on a pogo-stick in my driveway while waiting for my friends to come over and play Scattergories. With zero shame, I can admit it was a great night — I even hit a new record of 50 pogos.
Is this something I’ll grow out of?
The idea that I’ll someday be too old to frolic around outside with my friends, listen to throwback pop music while driving with the windows down or wear college t-shirts every day strikes me as incredibly depressing. At the office I act my age, but it’s just that — an act. If I’m being honest, most days I still feel like a kid playing dress up with her mother’s business clothes.
I don’t picture my manager getting home and hopping on a pogo stick, and the other interns seem so put together and mature when we attend meetings or work on projects from the hours of 9 a.m. to 5 p.m. I can’t help but wonder if I’m the only one putting on a show when I sit calmly in my cubicle.
Halfway through my college career, I’m forced to admit I’m no longer a child. Yet, the real world still feels light-years away.
As I approach the start of my adult life, I’m adopting the same strategy I’d use when jumping off a cliff into the water below. The worst thing I can do is look over the edge and try to imagine what the landing will feel like. I simply have to hurl myself off and have faith I’ll survive, even if the descent isn’t graceful.
With this in mind, I don’t want to abandon my immaturity completely. Frivolous joy is often found in things we spurn for being beneath us — like playing old video games or having a ridiculous two-person dance party.
I remember being a child, before the days of driving or drinking, and somehow bringing fun to the most random or boring situations. I’m afraid of losing that creativity and basic happiness as much as I’m afraid it will leak into my new “professional” life.
To reconcile these fears, I have to assume there is a time and place for both. There are occasions when it is necessary to put on a professional front and take myself seriously to earn the respect of my peers. The danger comes when I start behaving so sternly all of the time, when I forget how to laugh at myself and how to be young and foolish and mindlessly happy.
It may not be easy to separate “corporate” me from “weekend” me, but I hope I can always balance the two. The day I surrender my inner child is the day I trade my soul for a business machine — and, besides, I feel sorry for the people who wear heels to the grocery store.
Alyssa’s column runs biweekly. She can be reached at a.passarelli@cavalierdaily.com
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