The Impostor Anonymous

I couldn’t find the elevator button. Minutes away from my first big meeting, my first real taste of corporate America, and the elevator seemed determined to snatch away my moment of glory. I tried to maintain my self-assured countenance, practiced tirelessly in the mirror the night before, but when a smartly dressed man merely stretched his hand behind a decorative pillar to press the elevator button, my confidence was shattered.

In the elevator, I revived my spirits by consuming half a box of tic tacs and assuring myself that at least my words would smell good. Eyes watering from the minty burn coating my tongue, I exited the elevator and shook hands with Ms. Kendra Shatterney, Director of Resident Artist Funding for the Harrisburg Arts Council. As she led me to a conference room, I prayed that I would not disgrace my wonderful place of summer employment, Carlington Theater.

I had spent the past two months surviving the deliciously hectic world of Carlington Theater’s Education department as the only high school intern. I had encouraged kids to brave stage fright, tell knock knock jokes, and laugh until their stomachs hurt. I had ushered for audiences of 600 people and explained to an angry throng that the theater could not...