I moved out of my father’s house when I was 20, a week after I finished high school. I moved in with my friends Emily and Stephanie to an apartment at Yonge and Eglinton. They had moved in two months earlier and I followed after I was done school.
I worked at Parks and Recretaion, started working at a cofee shop, cleaned an apartment and sold roses on Church Street. I’d stopped working at the comic store a few months earlier. I made just enough money to pay my rent, buy coffee now and again, and cover my groceries. I was finally on my own. But I wasn’t a grown up, despite having been a fairly mature child for my age.
About two months in, I realized that I needed a more regular job. I applied to work in a women’t clothing store in the Eaton’s Centre. I started during their end of summer sale so the dress was pretty casual. I cam in the next week wearing similar clothing to the previous week. Big mistake. They’d changed over to the fall collection and no one had told me. My manager took me to the back room and had a chat with me. She said that most of the girls still lived at home and didn’t have to worry about bills and rent like I did. She held a few items back from the sale that I could purchase to improve my wardrobe and gave me a great start.
I worked there for about six months when I moved into my own apartment…alone. Shortly thereafter, I began working for my father. I had my own bills, my own place, my job and no one else was going to do the dishes for me. I was finally a grown up.