The Year I Became a Certified Bra Fitter

Notes from My Twenties

When I was in my early twenties, I couldn’t wait to start my career in public relations.
I had big dreams of event planning, media spotlights, and sharing my ideas with the world.

I graduated in 2007, right on the cusp of the recession. Fresh out of Ball State University, I took a bold leap and moved to Indianapolis, just an hour from campus, certain I’d land an entry-level job in the “big city.” I’d completed two internships (one at a magazine, one at a media relations firm), and I thought I was ready.

Turns out, “entry-level” didn’t mean what I thought it did. Most jobs wanted five years of experience. I didn’t have many connections in the city, and I wasn’t confident or strategic enough yet to make the most of the few I did have. I’ve since learned the importance of networking, being vulnerable, and asking for what you want.

So, to make rent — which I’d already committed to without a stable income (ahh to be 22 again) — I started applying for anything that might hire me. Fate stepped in when the HR department at Nordstrom called. I still remember what I wore to that interview: a red silk button-down shirt with black dress pants. I was so proud just to be considered for a top fashion brand.

Have I also mentioned my love for shoes? It runs deep. And now, I had unlimited access to the very trends shaping the industry. Yes, perhaps a little dangerous for my pocketbook, but nothing quiets financial concerns quite like the semi-annual sale and a pair of Franco Sarto boots.

I never imagined adding certified bra fitter to my résumé, but I enjoyed the job. I’ve always loved fashion, and Nordstrom taught me the art of true customer service — how to read people, offer help without hovering, and create an experience that felt personal. It wasn’t so different from writing, really: learning how to listen and connect.

The women in that department were incredible. Some had been there twenty years or more. They knew their customers by name, remembered birthdays, asked about kids and grandkids. Their work was relational, not transactional. I learned that trust and attention to detail mattered more than the sale itself.

That first year was actually wonderful. I even considered staying in retail fashion more permanently. The holidays were especially magical with wreaths in every window, carols drifting through the air, shoppers buzzing with cheer. It felt like living inside an old movie.

But the slower seasons were brutal. I was living off bagels and rice, stretching every commission check as sales slowed. When the recession began to take its toll, my paychecks dropped from $2,000 every two weeks to $800. Eventually, I had to leave.

Still, that year shaped me.

It taught me that your first job doesn’t have to define you, but it can refine you. It reminded me that humility and service are the foundation of meaningful work. And it showed me that sometimes, the detours are where you pick up the skills you’ll use for the rest of your career.

When I moved to Missouri two years later to be with my (now) husband, the CEO of the entertainment company that eventually hired me, in the dream job where I planned events, scheduled media tours, and got to exercise my creative writing muscles, had previously managed a Nordstrom store. The universe is funny like that.

Every role matters, even the ones that weren’t part of the plan. Because each one gives you something essential: a way of seeing, relating, and showing up that can’t be taught in any classroom.

Writing Prompt:

Think back to your first job. What did it teach you about people, work, or yourself that you still carry today?

Erin Gregory Creative is the studio of Erin Gregory, a writer, marketing strategist, and full-time communications and branding consultant for mission-driven leaders.

She’s also the host of Notes from the Messy Middle, a podcast on Substack exploring creativity, communication, and intentional living. Her work connects personal growth with strategic storytelling, helping people and brands speak with more clarity and purpose.