Job titles these days are painfully vague. I know this is true because just one short year ago I was sitting in my closet-sized room in the good old sorority house searching, scouring, and stressing my way through endless lists of job openings in search of the answer to the elusive question: "What am I going to do with my life?" I was looking for something mildly entertaining, decently paying, and promotion-ready. Needless to say, it didn't take me long to discover that this job doesn't exist. At least not in the sense that I was imagining. Or in any sense, actually.

When I stumbled upon the listing for my current job, it didn't seem so bad. It was entitled "Adolescent Care Specialist" and seemed easy enough. Not to mention that it advertised my agency's free health insurance policy and had good hours that would allow me to sleep in nearly every day. Easy transition from college, right? Getting free stuff? Sleeping obnoxiously late every day? I already know how to do all of those things! Can I wear my pajamas, too?

My job title now, although my job has never changed, is technically "Youth Care Worker." This is horribly misleading, often causing people to assume that I read Dr. Suess books and pass out sippy cups for a living. Oh, if only that were the truth. Even throughout my interview and the first few days of my job, I wasn't entirely sure what my purpose was at the agency. After all, for a job applicant, an interview is to be sought, then dreaded, then endured, but not really analyzed. And managers rarely relish interviews any more than the trembling supplicant on the other side of their desk, so it’s probably just as well that people can’t read minds. If they could, most interviews with me would have been aborted within about 45 seconds.

This explains, though, why my parents seem to have absolutely no idea what I do for a living. My mom spends quite a bit of time bragging to her friends about how I've become some sort of accomplished psychotherapist. This isn't terribly far from the truth, since I often spend time dealing with clients' psychoses with methods that just prove I have no idea what I'm talking about. My dad, however, seems to think I'm some sort of prison guard. Also not terribly far from the truth, except for that minor detail that the unit isn't locked and if they really wanted to leave (which they often do) I probably wouldn't do much about it. These misconceptions persist despite the fact that I've been working there for a year now.

I was discussing this with my supervisor and he and I were joking about initiating a "Bring your Parent to Work Day." It would be a wonderful idea if my parents weren't quickly approaching an age where they are more prone to heart attacks. I wouldn't want to speed up the process of nature or anything. I do, however, think it would make my parents appreciate my brothers and I a lot more. And they thought I was a problem child...

Despite their confusion, I do recognize all parents have the inalienable right to brag about their kids. They spent years and years of toil to make us who we are today and now they really just need something to occupy their time. I would love the opportunity to show them the things I've learned from my family put into practice. From my mother I've acquired the elusive eyes in the back of my head, allowing me to know when kids are threatening, touching, or otherwise attempting to get themselves, and me, in trouble while my back is turned. From my brothers I've learned how to get yelled at and cursed out without even flinching. They would also probably be interested to see how I can restrain an out-of-control kid and not manage to get knocked out, since I spent years and years fighting with them and somehow always seemed to be the one who ended up in the E.R. with a bleeding head and a complicated story.

The hardest part about your transition from college to the real world is the transition to the working world. The first job out of college is tough and I've learned not to sweat it. Of the seven members of my graduating sorority class, six of us don’t even work within our majors anymore. Also, two of us are married, three of us are getting an MBA, and one of us fights with teenagers for a living (that’s me!). The point is, who knows where your career or your life will take you? Your first job is all about networking, doing paperwork with a blinding headache, and daring the other young coworkers to do stupid stuff that may or may not get you fired. If you would have told me a year ago I would have a job that required me to carry a walkie talkie and a huge ring of keys, I probably would have laughed at you. Or I would have assumed I failed my thesis and ended up as a janitor, which I also probably would have laughed about. Upon seeing all of these things I really do all day, my parents would probably march straight to my boss and demand I get some sort of promotion. Before which I would politely remind them,

"If you get me fired, I'm moving back home."