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Last autumn I sat in a midtown cubicle sorting receipts for my boss’s monthly expense report.
I had recently earned my master’s degree from Harvard and had accepted a coveted yet thankless entry-level position at a well-known philanthropic organization in New York City.
“Freelance work,” I told my boss and parents alike.
“I’m going to take the certification exam for Russian-to-English translation.” While not entirely ludicrous – I am fluent in Russian – I saw no hurry to pursue this option so long as I was still certified to flash my boobs over the Internet. If you’re not familiar with it, that means I take off my clothes for random people on the Internet.
My mother always told me I could be whatever I wanted to be in life.