Back in New York: Coffee, PR, and Finding My Groove
My transition back to New York City has been smooth. I started off staying with my grandparents on the Upper East Side—a little blast from the past. Park Avenue still feels like retro New York: rows of flowers, doormen in full uniform, and fifty-year-old moms in yoga pants, walking around with Louis Vuitton and Saint Laurent handbags slung over their shoulders, rocking boogie high-end sunglasses—still holding onto their beauty, some gracefully, others with a little too much plastic surgery.
Mornings started with Tal Bagels: chive cream cheese and lox, the full New York experience—and a $20 hit to my wallet. Welcome to New York: bagels worth dying for, but draining every time you order lox. I'd catch the M101 at 85th & Lexington, sitting up front in the handicap seating with sweet old ladies chatting up the bus driver. I’d hop off near Grand Central and walk a few minutes to my office, feeling sharp in a fresh white shirt, blue linens, and my brown suede loafers.
Two coffees deep, I shook my managers' hands and officially kicked off my health PR internship—coming full circle from my rare disease background and my mom’s career as a strategist in the same field. After a quick office tour, HR meeting, and a three-hour crash course in Microsoft (I was fluent in Mac and Google Drive), I started learning company jargon: “flag this,” “circle back to that.” What sounded like corporate gibberish started to click after a few days.
In the beginning, I was eager for client work, but my managers reminded me to pace myself: read, study decks, digest emails. Basically, a crash course semester in health PR. They set up their desks next to mine, encouraged questions, and made sure I met co-workers over coffee chats to understand what everyone actually does beyond the LinkedIn titles. They’ve also been thoughtful about my disability, opening doors for me (literally) and helping me adjust to the office routine.
By week two, I found my rhythm—asking more questions, grabbing coffee in the kitchen, and chatting with senior team members who welcomed conversation without any stuffy hierarchy. My managers even commuted with me for the first few days to make sure the route was accessible and I felt comfortable. I was invited to happy hour and treated to a fancy white-tablecloth Italian lunch on Madison Avenue—sipping rosé and living my Don Draper moment.
I moved into an NYU dorm in Soho—my old stomping grounds. Dani, my new aide, started getting into a groove with transfers and helping me navigate daily tasks. I quickly found my neighborhood coffee spots: Citizens Soho, Stone Street, and The Last Draft. I’d watch supermodels and hipsters stroll by, feeling the pull of FOMO but often opting for a power nap to adjust to full-time hours. Still, I make time on weekends to hit bars, attend book clubs, try Jewish speed dating events, or grab dinner with friends—or a date if I’m lucky. Dating’s still slow, but I’m definitely still taking a stab at it—putting myself out there on Bumble, Hinge, and even practicing my flirting skills in person at bars.
Therapy remains my weekly anchor to help sustain this momentum and build something long-term here. For now, my focus is being the intern who asks questions, bonds with coworkers, and crushes projects. Without breaching any NDAs, I’ll just say: my media monitoring journey has officially begun.
I’ve got eight weeks left in this fast-paced, supportive, and community-oriented internship. The future—career moves, dating, life—I’ll tackle when the time comes. For now, I’m content to enjoy my coffee, dive into work, and keep showing up at quirky social events—because you never know who you’ll meet. The fact that this blog is two weeks late? That’s just proof I’m busy again—busy like college days, not stuck in those lonely, unemployed days of doom-scrolling LinkedIn.
And I’ll have to pay Strand Bookstore a visit soon—used to be my daily stop after coffee when I lived near Union Square.
If you're in NYC and want to talk jobs, disability, coffee, or which museum I’m wandering to next—let’s connect.
