So I got a job...

What I have learned so far at work:

Two of my co-workers had children at the age of 16. Yikes. I would sooner die.

Another co-worker currently has two children at the age of 24. Additionally, her ex-boyfriend is probably going to jail soon, and her mother has moderate to severe schizophrenia. She has asked me with my "psychological" expertise to help her...sorry, I don't offer free counseling sessions, nor am I qualified to.

Doctors and nurses are very, very specific about what they want, how they want it, and at what time and manner. Very.

Medical school includes the following course in its curriculum:
Doctor Writing 101: How to Write like an Epileptic Toddler and Laugh While Everyone Struggles to Decipher It.

The beautiful scenery on the streets of Chicago and Franklin, where I work:
- Shirtless children being pulled in shopping carts (apparently substitutes for strollers)
- Six year-old children babysitting several toddlers with no parent in sight
- Homeless people “dancing” and talking to themselves
- Valet drivers crashing into buildings, confusing me and my staff to think that Minnesota just had its first earthquake (actually happened, yes)
- Obscene graffiti on 50% of the road signs


I am entering my second week of work as a receptionist for Childrens Heart Clinic in Minneapolis. While initially thrilled to end my employment drought, I foolishly thought training would be a light rain - a sprinkle, so to speak.

Think again. I walked right into monsoon season, without even so much as an umbrella (silly me). Everything seems to be rushing at me at once. I’m trying to remember and memorize a zillion little things. I feel like I’m constantly paddling upstream…for every five things I take pride in learning or memorizing, I’m bombarded with ten more things that must also be memorized.

Childrens Heart Clinic is a very busy, very respectable pediatric heart clinic – one of the best in Minnesota. It’s stressful and fast-paced. A mistake on my part is big, because we’re dealing with children with serious heart defects/disease.

Some parts of it are fun. I like wearing scrubs; however, finding scrubs that fit me is quite a dilemma. I tried some on at the mall yesterday, and yes, while it is no surprise I am “petite,” their small sizes still managed to make me feel like a midget posing in Yao Ming’s jersey. I mean, seriously, it was like you could fit three of me in it, and twelve of my boobs (so you know that it must have been big, lol)


I feel incompetent, dumb, stressed, tired.

So for all of you out there who say “Wow, I’m loving my first job, it’s so wonderful and everything is great,” you’re either living in the most primitive form of human coping – denial – or you are one very, very lucky amigo.

Yes, with time, I will probably become less stressed at my job. However, I feel like I will never know everything in this place; even the receptionist that has been there for a year asks questions to the primary receptionist a lot. I mean, if she doesn’t know it by now…how the heck am I supposed to know it?

All this work has given me little time to work on grad school applications and essays, let alone try to figure out if I even want to go to grad school, and whether I want to continue to pursue psychology or completely abandon it and go to writing/English/teaching.

Sometimes I feel like I would be happier teaching, writing, expressing my creative side. I know I wouldn't really get an outlet to do that in a health or mental health setting.

Yet, starting over seems like such a hassle...getting another degree, going back to school...I really would have to be 100% positive I want to do it.

I also have to look at the long run...a career isn't just a month, or a year...it's decades long. What job will I have the most fun in, and have the least likelihood to burn out in? What will let me be myself the most, and allow me to be creative, yet challenge me? To me, teaching is written all over those questions...I just wish I didn't have to start over...

Quarter-life crisis = not my idea of fun :(

Song of the moment:
“Stop this train.” By John Mayer.