I’m a mother to a beautiful three-month-old baby girl named Grace, who is currently looking at me with a silly smile and curious blue eyes.
I tell her I love her and kiss her insanely adorable chubby cheeks.
As fate would have it, after interning and working my ass off during my senior spring with one of the country’s largest magazine companies, I scored an editorial assistant job at the website of a major national women’s magazine.
This means two things: I’m at place to start a glamorous, challenging career—and I’m at the bottom of the figurative food chain.
As I rush into the conference room, a group of intimidatingly polished women—my new colleagues—greet me, laptops and iced lattes at the ready.