Even though I was an intelligent college graduate, right then, in that instance, I felt like a teenager; so naive, so tactless, awkward, socially inept, and upset inside at myself for not being sophisticated enough to do or say the “right” thing. My mouth, youth, and sense of humor did me in again.

But I had learned one thing; how to move on.

I wasn’t good at asking forgiveness, saying sorry, and couldn’t judge the appropriate timing for doing so. I simply had to tell myself, “Tomorrow is another day, a different day, a day where everyone will forget my faux pas.” I was emotionally rebuking myself and the only one who would remember. They had other things on their minds. If I can move on from here, I will be fine.

Never again would I joke like that, talk about my superiors, question their judgment, cross my lowly station, assume that my college degree in the same area made me an equal; a contributor. Because I wasn’t. I didn’t have the ranking job. I was still a peon. My ideas weren’t valuable. Were they?