#LinkedInLife

One of my greatest fears in life is that I’ll never live my dreams. That, the days I spend daydreaming and thinking about the future will always be days I spend daydreaming and thinking about the future. That, I’m living life for a future I’ll never get.

It’s a thought that pops up in my mind nearly daily, and, after it, I tell myself something along the lines of, “Nope. Not happening — not not living your dreams, namely. It’s dreams or nothing. And, don’t forget — you already lived one.”

Manhattan. Upper West Side. That’s where my story begins.

I’d moved in to one of the most gorgeous places I would ever live in. Floor to ceiling windows, bright white walls and dark wood floors made up the apartment. 10 floors up, it neighbored the largest cathedral in the world. The modernity of the apartment’s architecture made the cathedral pop and beautifully juxtaposed its Gothic design. A walk past the glossy subway-tiled bathroom and through the kitchen got you to my room, where nearly every Saturday and Sunday morning I’d sleep in and sunbathe.

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday, I got dressed in pink suits and ruffle houndstooth jumpsuits before going to work. A 5-minute-stroll — though, most days, ’twas more like a dash — to the subway, 15-minute-ride and another 5-minute-walk got me to the middle of 34th street between 5th and 6th ave, where reality would meet my dreams daily.

As my feet got me to and through the revolving door, feelings of excitement and worth effervesced in me. I walked past the lobby desk to the one of 73 elevators that got me to floor three. Up the Empire State Building I traversed, until I got to LinkedIn’s cafe, where I’d pick from overnight oats, raw porridge, gluten-free avocado toast, scrambled egg whites and gobs of other voguish eats and sips like oat milk matcha lattes and kombucha on tap. Breakfast in hand, I’d open my MacBook and post LinkedIn’s Daily Rundown to the Editors page before organizing to dos in my Productivity Planner.

Spoonfuls later, I’d go up to the 26th floor and get to work alongside the loveliest of teammates. Flo, queen of everything video, would parade the office dressed in a smile, as always. Not too far from her, Alex, a mysterious jet-setter, and Rodrigo, bagel hater, bossed me around. Fine. Mentored. Not bossed. I’d go on and tell you about Scott, Jaimy, Susy, Cate, Laura, Ashley, John, Dan, Chip, Carrie, Saba, Tiffany, Mauroof, Sara, Ceilidh, Michael, Amy, George, Maya, Devin, Lorraine, Beth and the editors in London, Brazil, Germany, Australia and Paris I got to meet and work alongside, but I’m going for a blog post here, not a novel. Somehow, somewhen, somewhere, though, I had the greatest of conversations with these humans.

I was the most motivated I’d ever been in life at LinkedIn. I actually got excited to go in to the office daily. I even popped in on weekends — here and there — and worked late — from my apartment and the office, sometimes until I was the last one in. I got my work done and gave it everything, and would even ask around for more when I already had a handful — a mistake I’d learn from later. Although my body left the 26th floor daily, my mind didn’t. I thought about LinkedIn night and day. Ideas for features, series and videos popped up in my thoughts and materialized through pitch decks I’d present. Now that I think about it, I gave every little detail creative thought — a social media post, word in a sentence in an email, the design of that email, headline…you get it.

I’ve nearly always considered myself unmotivated, lazy and undisciplined — three words my parents threw at me through my childhood and young adulthood. LinkedIn made me think, for one of the first times, that maybe, maybe I got it twisted.

Lavender walls, subway tiles, a black and white photograph of a woman á la toilette and milky kitchen made up the apartment I’d move to in Chelsea three months later. Nearly 100 blocks down from my first dwelling, it neighbored what would become my go to’s — Foragers Market, where I’d pick up Van Leeuwen’s Earl Grey Tea ice cream, and Shadowbox, where I’d pick up a pair of gloves and JAB! CROSS! HOOK! and UPPERCUT! my way through mantras like “strong body strong mind” before hopping in the shower dripping in sweat, bubbling up my hair and body and picking up an oat milk matcha latte from the Ringside Cafe.

‘Twas summer in New York, so sweaty walks to the Empire State Building were inevitable, but thoroughly enjoyed — apart from the days I hopped in the Subway if running late, which happened more than I would’ve liked.

My thicker pink suit surrendered to the back of my closet, although my memory of meeting Karlie Kloss in it at LinkedIn a month and a half before never left my side. Karlie had characterized my pink suit as “boss woman” and questioned where I got it from, although, in that moment, all I could think about was my disbelief that Karlie was actually talking to me. ME. The intern. My outfits sparked copious smiles and conversations at LinkedIn. Like, that day I walked into the elevator alongside Ceilidh, a UX designer I’d grow to think highly of, and realized she and I were wearing matching outfits — a black pinafore dress on top of a white t-shirt, black sunnies and a pair of white trainers. “Great minds think alike,” I said as the elevator descended.

The designers, engineers, product and brand marketers and human editors — as the team hoodies named us — I worked alongside at LinkedIn were truly some of the most friendly, knowledgable, creative, giving, benevolent and beautiful humans I’d meet. Laura, my boss, had given me the brilliant idea of getting coffee and talking to the editors about their roles, and ’twas these moments that would create the loveliest memories. Contributing to the launch of the Top Startups list and getting the inside scoop about companies like Halo Top Creamery, Bumble, Outdoor Voices, Allbirds and The Wing on top of writing questions for an interview with Anu Duggal, a founding partner of the Female Founders Fund, sparked serious smiles, curiosity and joy in me, too.

If I’m honest, though, ’twas the interior design of the office that got me and made me want to work at LinkedIn in the first place. From my first team meeting in Central Park — a room named after the one and only — to a heart-to-heart I’d have with Rodrigo in the 26th floor cafe — cold brew on tap and UNREAL almond butter cups in hand — the office’s concrete floors, bright white tables and sunny yellow chairs, plants, brass lighting, wooden bookshelves, tufted leather booths and soft lounges made getting work done a treat.

Frankly, I’m so fucking grateful for that time I got to live my New York dream and work at LinkedIn. ‘Twas a messy and confusing chapter of life, but one of the most beautiful, too.

As I left that Chelsea apartment for the last time and reminisced in my ride to the airport, about to fly to Vienna for a week before my last six months of college, I got a text from a friend. “Have a safe trip and I’ll be waiting for your glorious return,” it read. That text now sits at the bottom of my messages and, though, from a friend, something in me thinks, maybe, it’s from Manhattan, too.