I felt compelled to have a crappy workspace tour of my parents’ soho where I’ve been working for the past weeks this summer.
It’s partly because I wanted to have extra cash and because I don’t want to overuse my laptop, which earns me the most affectionate for inanimate objects medal, thank you very much.
But mostly it’s just I have nothing better to do.
What I do, and I really hate the robust routine feel of it all (which must be why I never wanted to be in the business department of anything), are: printing receipts, invoices, payable disbursements, and type checks. Oh, and don’t forget writing what was on Excel to a columnar book, which is definitely not the most exciting thing ever. And also arranging and stacking endless of papers. Wonderful.
This is clearly why I went to the medical path. Practical and not deskwork. A Physical Therapist is a hands-on type and communicates face-to-face, which is a relief.
Even though I dread answering phone calls and making checks (see: picture 2 because if you make a mistake, you die), I’ve had, what I won’t call fun exactly, but a sense of responsibility and independence. And with the recent disappointing election which for the first time I have voted, I recognize my duty as a citizen of my country.
That’s right, I’m gonna say it. I’m eighteen years old, and I’m an adult.
Great. I’ve matured, folks.