There I was, a college graduate, with my days spent answering someone else’s phone, coordinating someone else’s schedule, paying someone else’s invoices, and (on the luckiest of days) getting someone else’s lunch; all in the name of working in media and entertainment. I felt bamboozled and hoodwinked! So you’re telling me, my college tuition was tens of thousands of dollars, I busted my butt to graduate with a solid GPA and I now earned less than what one year of undergrad cost? Oh you had to be kidding me.
I was not always jaded though. In fact, I was in heaven for the first few months. From the moment I received my official acceptance letter I was on cloud nine! Within weeks, I was on my first red carpet. And after the work day grind, my friends and I hopped from social event to social event, soaking up the buzzing NYC after work scene. Everyone was hungry, eager, willing, and on their way to being the next P. Diddy or Mark Zuckerberg. It was thrilling, invigorating and a wild rush. It was also tiring.
I was becoming all too familiar with the phrase “overworked and underpaid.” Although I was inspired by the creative atmosphere of my company, I saw a disconnect between the long hours and stress, the chump change we were receiving, and the so-called reward waiting for us at the end of the tunnel. So although the lights in my company’s building never dimmed, the thrill of working there did.
So although the lights in my company’s building never dimmed, the thrill of working there did.
Coming to a career crossroads at the ripe old age of 24 was nowhere in my expectations of post-graduate life. I thought the working world would follow a natural order: hard work, promotion, repeat. But performance reviews and achievement levels were not necessarily fair or clearly defined in corporate America. After two years of toiling in different areas within the company, realizing that what I was doing and what I thought I would be doing were drastically different, my light bulb moment finally came.
Like any normal day at the job, I had a series of eclectic and ridiculous tasks lined up for me that morning. First on the list was delivering cupcakes to a Nickelodeon star at her hotel. Arriving at Crumbs Bakery that AM before anyone in the office was even at their desk, I walked up to the counter to pick up the order of a dozen jumbo cupcakes. Surprisingly, the store was already busy with folks eager to carry surprise treats with them to work.
As I waited for the line to move, growing more and more impatient, glancing at my watch nervously, my cell phone started to vibrate. It was the car service driver calling to find out where I was. He was at our meeting location of 42nd and 6th and I was held up on the cupcake line.
“Please don’t move, I’ll be right there” I assured.
“I have to move, I can’t block traffic!” He insisted.
Panicked, I took my fear of failing at mission cupcake out on the customers and servers. I barely recognized myself as I barked: “WHAT is taking so long? I placed an order last night because I need to deliver these THIS MORNING!” In a minute my order was in my hand and I was running down 6th avenue trying to catch my car, cell phone mashed against my ear, balancing the cupcake bag precariously so not a sprinkle would be out of place.
Later that day, after I’d completed the thankless task (the starlet barely glanced up from her breakfast to acknowledge the delivery), I assessed the disheveled hair, bags under my eyes, weight gain from long nights and late dinners, and hundreds of unanswered emails with disgust. This was not a road I wanted to travel much longer.
Stay tuned for the conclusion…
Missed Part 1? Read it here.