This was told to me by a 26-year-old woman working as a receptionist at a New York City financial firm, who asked to remain anonymous. This post is part of a series on youth in the office.
I feel like the office slave. I answer phones, order lunch, give people their mail. All the assistants here are female and almost everybody else is male. Some of them like to complain a lot. Some of them think they’re special.
The other day one guy accusingly informed me there was no hot sauce left in the refrigerator. Another dropped by to ask, “Is there a reason that the water cooler has become unplugged?” When the microwave blew a fuse, I had to find the circuit breaker, and when the coffee machine broke, that was somehow my fault too. I’m not even that good with technology. How did this become my life?
They look at me and think I’m stupid, but I have a degree from one of the best schools in the country. I wanted to be a musician. I came to New York, graduated with honors from a renowned music program and saw myself playing in an orchestra. I was planning my future with a man. We’d both work to scrape by while I pursued my music. It might be hard, but we’d be together. I had all these romantic visions, and then reality hit.
He died suddenly in an accident. The year after that was the lost year of my life. I stopped playing and worked as a waitress in my hometown. I was forced to reevaluate everything, and I wasn’t sure that I could do it on my own. Music wasn’t practical. You have to be the best, and I questioned whether I wanted it enough.
I didn’t really want to be home. I missed him. I missed the city and my friends. I decided to move back to New York City and get a job—any job—and figure it out. I took a minimum wage retail position, and then did a series of temp jobs at cosmetic, jewelry, and financial companies. I learned how to use the phone and Microsoft Outlook.
One of the temp jobs led to an administrative assistant position in the music industry, but my bosses were freaks. The first would yell about every little thing. When she walked into a room, everyone parted to let her pass. When I went to her office to ask her something, she would say, “You wait until I look at you before you speak.” She was going to anger management classes after work.
The other boss was bi-polar, nice one minute and crazy the next. She loved to fire people—security guards, assistants, people in the mailroom. Once she asked me to messenger her lunch from the office to her home in Connecticut. When she wanted to yell at an assistant over the phone, she would ask to be put on speaker so that everyone in the office could hear. I hated it, and I wanted out.
That’s how I ended up here. It probably was not a good career move because I demoted myself. But I get paid more, and they yell less. I am, however, bored out of my mind. And I feel like I get blamed for everything as if I’m totally incompetent.
I’m supposed to interrupt meetings to ask if anyone wants a drink. It’s completely awkward, and no one ever wants one. I’ve had to field phone calls from people’s taxidermists and about their private jet planes. One time, one of the guys accidentally butt-dialed the office. He was screaming and cursing at his girlfriend, saying, “I just bumped into you; I didn’t hit you!”
A lot of times I’m just browsing the internet. When I’ve read every story and gone through Facebook three times already, that’s when I start wondering what’s next.
I know if I did anything in the performing arts I wouldn’t make any money. Sometimes I fantasize about marrying a rich guy and being able to pursue music. I wouldn’t have to worry about money and maybe I could be really good.
My worst fear is that I’d stay a receptionist forever—although I’d rather answer phones at a hospital that helps people than for traders making billions. I’ve spent a lot time thinking about what I should do. I’ve crossed finance off my list. I was considering accounting, so I went to the library and checked out Accounting for Dummies. I started reading it and thought: No way.
I like the idea of health care, but don’t think I could deal with blood or cleaning up after people. That’s how I came across physical therapy, which I think I could like. But I’ve recently been leaning towards being a paralegal because I think it might be interesting and it would cost less to get certified.
I really like to travel. I’ve thought about going abroad and teaching English, especially now since I’m young. But I also wonder if I should stay in one place for awhile to establish myself. There are just so many options now it can feel overwhelming.
I don’t know what I want, but I know I want my job to mean something. I want to use my brain more. I want to go to work and do something that I’m proud of, that improves people’s lives. If I have to hop around for awhile, that’s okay. Because even if I do a job or take a class and don’t like it, I know it was worth something.
This is the sixth post in a series that examines youth in the office, in the words of young workers themselves and others around them. Please share your own insights and experiences in the comments section below.
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