“You’ve got a college degree. What are you doing here?”

Her brow furrowed in a look of genuine confusion clouded with judgement. I knew she never would have expected to find me here, moved back into my childhood bedroom, working at a department store.

“Oh, yeah,” I mumbled without looking up, acting as if folding men’s dress pants was the most interesting thing in the world. “Yeah, I got a degree. Just kind of in between work right now, you know? Pandemic sort of changed my employment trajectory.”

Pandemic had proved to be a useful excuse. Somehow, even three years later, the word made people stop their poking and prodding, as they nodded understandingly.

“Gotcha. My sister, she was two grades below us in high school, you remember Sarah? Yeah, well she had the same thing happen. Got laid off at Macy’s, now works at Wendy’s. But she never even graduated. I’m shocked you’re stuck here even as a college graduate.”

“Yeah, I-I guess it’s a little harder these days.” I stared hard at the clothing in front of me, silently wishing her away. She stood in the uncomfortable silence, clearly trying to form her next sentence. I knew no matter what she said the judgement would be palpable. She seemed unable to move past the image she had of me in her mind to accept the harsh reality standing in front of her.

“I just…always imagined you going so much farther than the rest of us.” She finally got out. “You were top of our class, we all thought you were going to go far, that you would be president or something.”

Not some sales associate at your hometown department store, I knew she was thinking.

She was right. I was doing nothing meaningful. She and I both knew I had let people down, but I wondered if she understood that I had also let myself down.

“Maybe someday.” I smiled politely, grabbing the stack of pants and moving away. “I have to finish my shift. It was great to see you.”

I was angry. Angry at her for saying out loud what everyone was thinking, but even angrier at myself for letting her. But honestly, what could I say? That I failed? That the pressure of “going far” had pushed me right out of college? There was no way I could reveal to her that I hadn’t truly graduated, that the reason I was working here and living in my childhood bedroom surrounded by hot pink walls was because I had no degree and no future.

I could barely even accept it myself.