My baby sister turns 21 today. I feel like there’s a life lesson here somewhere for you all, that you shouldn’t drink and drive, that it is a good idea to keep drunken pictures off of Facebook when you’re job hunting, that cocaine is never a good idea, even on your birthday. But you know all of that already. I mean, seriously, let’s not kid ourselves. We need reminders not to make asses of ourselves sometimes, but we’re all pretty smart cookies. We don’t need a blog post to tell us to act like adults.

So instead, today, I wanted to share with you another story, one that does have a life lesson behind it if you look hard enough.

Jessie (That’s my sister. She hates when people call her Jessie instead of Jess or Jessica, so I refuse to call her anything but Jessie.) and I are about five years apart, so we weren’t super close growing up. I mean, we played together, but there was enough space between us that our interests didn’t really overlap much until she hit high school. We fought constantly, not about anything major, but just because…well, we’re sisters. Also, she has the worst temper in the world. It takes a lot to make my sister mad, but when she does get mad WATCH THE FUCK OUT. When she was little, her face used to get all red, and she’s scream and stomp up the stairs and slam the door to her room. I, of course, thought this was hilarious and never missed a chance to poke and prod at her until she was throwing a fit.

It still is hilarious.

Anyway, one time, she was sitting quietly playing with some toys, and I decided to steal her doll. I don’t know why. Because I’m a bitch? I distinctly remember not wanting the doll, just wanting to make her mad. I was probably about eight or nine at the time, making her three or four.

I ran up, grabbed the doll, and ran off. With cat-like-four-year-old reflexes, she jumped up, screaming, and ran after me. Then I began to get kind of worried, because she actually had quite the punch for a four-year-old, so I began to run for my life. FOR MY LIFE.

The chase ended with me diving onto the couch, her diving after me, and hearing a sickening *crunch* as the back leg of the couch broke from the sudden weight of us diving onto it.

Oh, and did I mention that my dad was sitting on the other end of it? Cue pee-in-your-pants terror from both of us.

Many of you are probably starting your job search right now. Graduation is looming! It’s an exciting time, and you’ll hopefully soon land your first job interview, if you haven’t had one already.

No matter where you work, you’re likely going to have coworkers. And some of them are likely going to be petty four-year-olds who have hilarious tempers. I swear, people get upset about the dumbest things. I once knew a lady who got upset at another lady at our office because she “parked in her spot.” Dude. Not only were there no assigned spots, but it was not in the least a crowded parking lot. The spot next to “her” spot was probably open!

But anyway, my point is this: resist the urge to poke at the people with tempers. It’s really easy to let a situation escalate when you have a problem with your coworker. Joe steals the soda Ken brought for lunch. Pete points a finger of blame at Carol for an ordering mishap. John uses the last file folder without telling anyone that they need to order more. Susan goes to Happy Hour with Lisa and they forget to invite Jane.

Who. Cares.

All of this office drama is as petty as me stealing my sister’s doll. But guess what? If you start to chase one another, at some point, a couch is going to get broken.

You do need to stand up for yourself at work. Be assertive when someone blames you for something or does something wrong. Correct problems in the most polite way possible. But for god’s sake, when the issue is handled, drop it. Because in the grand scheme of things, these office issues do not matter, not one bit. If you can rise above the petty drama, your bosses will recognize that.

And now, I must get ready to take Jessie for her very first legal drink. Oh, how things have changed since the days of the broken couch. Happy Birthday, kid.