A Funny Lady’s Review of Adulting: 0/10, Do Not Recommend

Let me begin by saying that I would like to speak to whoever approved adulthood as a permanent subscription.

I have questions.

Actually, I have several complaints.

When I was younger, adulthood looked fantastic. Adults appeared to have everything figured out. They drove cars, carried keys, drank coffee, stayed up late, bought whatever cereal they wanted, and never had to ask permission to go anywhere.

Nobody warned me that adulthood was basically a group project where nobody knows what they’re doing, the instructions are missing, and somehow you are responsible for paying the electricity bill.

So, after years of extensive research, personal suffering, unpaid labor, and several encounters with customer service representatives, I have decided to publish my official review.

Adulting: 0/10. Do not recommend.

First Impressions: Misleading Advertising

My first impression of adulthood was based entirely on false advertising.

As a child, I believed grown-ups knew things.

If something broke, an adult would fix it.

If someone got sick, an adult knew what medicine to buy.

If there was a strange noise in the house, an adult investigated it.

If the car made a concerning sound, an adult confidently said, “It’s probably nothing.”

Now that I am an adult myself, I realize the truth.

Nobody knows anything.

We are all just standing in kitchens, staring at appliances and Googling, “Why is my washing machine making a helicopter noise?”

The confidence was an illusion.

Adults did not have secret knowledge. They simply had more experience pretending not to panic.

And apparently, I have now reached the age where other people assume I possess this magical wisdom.

Someone asks me, “What should I do?”

Ma’am, I don't know. I had toast for dinner yesterday.

The Daily Responsibilities Are Excessive

One of the biggest problems with adulting is the sheer number of responsibilities.

As a child, your daily schedule is pretty straightforward:

Wake up.

Go to school.

Eat.

Play.

Do homework.

Go to bed.

As an adult:

Wake up.

Work.

Answer emails.

Attend meetings.

Pay a bill.

Remember another bill.

Wonder why there are so many bills.

Buy groceries.

Decide what to cook.

Cook.

Wash dishes.

Wash clothes.

Fold clothes.

Forget clothes in the washing machine.

Rewash clothes.

Clean something.

Schedule an appointment.

Reschedule an appointment.

Reply to a message you forgot about three weeks ago.

Check your bank account.

Close your bank account immediately because you don't want to look at it anymore.

And somewhere in the middle of all this, someone expects you to “find time for yourself.”

Find time?

Honey, I can't even find the lid to my food container.

The Grocery Store Is a Psychological Thriller

Nobody prepares you for how complicated grocery shopping becomes.

When you're young, going to the supermarket is exciting. You push the cart. You ask for snacks. You stare at colorful cereal boxes.

As an adult, you walk through the aisles like an accountant investigating a crime scene.

You pick up a package of eggs.

You look at the price.

You put it down.

You pick it up again because you need eggs.

You stare at the price.

You wonder whether chickens have recently acquired luxury real estate.

Then you reach the produce section and try to convince yourself that buying vegetables is a personality trait.

“I’m going to eat healthy this week.”

You purchase spinach, broccoli, carrots, berries, and an expensive avocado.

Three days later, the spinach is liquid.

The avocado has become a biological weapon.

The broccoli smells like regret.

Meanwhile, the emergency frozen pizza you bought “just in case” is thriving.

Honestly, frozen pizza is the most reliable relationship in my life.

Cooking: A Full-Time Job Nobody Pays You For

Another scam is the idea that adults are supposed to cook every day.

Every.

Single.

Day.

Who invented this?

Why can't we simply eat cereal three times a day and move on?

Cooking also creates an unreasonable amount of cleaning.

You start with one cutting board.

Then a knife.

Then a pan.

Then a spoon.

Then another spoon because you couldn't find the first spoon.

Then a bowl.

Then a plate.

Suddenly your kitchen looks like a restaurant after a celebrity chef has had an emotional breakdown.

And for what?

You made pasta.

Pasta that took twelve minutes.

The dishes take forty-five.

This is not a fair exchange.

Laundry Has No End

Laundry is one of adulthood's greatest mysteries.

I swear I did laundry yesterday.

How is there already another pile?

Where did these clothes come from?

Do they reproduce?

I put clothes into the washing machine.

I move them to the dryer.

I fold them.

I put them away.

Then I wear them.

And the cycle begins again.

There is no final boss.

There is no moment when the laundry says, “Congratulations! You have completed the game.”

No.

Laundry is an eternal subscription service.

You never win.

You merely become temporarily less overwhelmed.

And folding fitted sheets?

Absolutely not.

That activity was designed by someone who hates humanity.

Financial Responsibility Is Just Anxiety With Numbers

Perhaps the worst part of adulting is money.

As a child, money was magical.

You had ten dollars and thought you were wealthy.

Ten dollars could buy candy, toys, and possibly a small piece of real estate if you went back far enough in history.

Now you earn money and immediately watch it disappear.

Rent.

Utilities.

Insurance.

Groceries.

Transportation.

Subscriptions.

Taxes.

Unexpected expenses.

Some mysterious charge that you don't recognize.

You look at your bank account and whisper, “Where did you go?”

Your money does not answer.

It simply leaves.

And just when you think you're getting financially responsible, your car decides to make a noise that sounds like a dying robot.

Congratulations!

Your emergency fund has entered the chat.

Customer Service Will Test Your Faith

Adulting also requires regular interaction with customer service.

You call because something isn't working.

You spend twenty minutes navigating an automated phone system.

“Press one for billing.”

You press one.

“Press two for technical support.”

You press two.

“Please tell us briefly why you're calling.”

You explain.

The machine doesn't understand.

You explain again.

It still doesn't understand.

Eventually, it says, “I’m sorry. I didn't get that.”

Neither did I, Brenda.

Neither did I.

Then you finally reach a human being, and they say:

“Have you tried turning it off and on again?”

Yes.

Of course I have.

I have restarted the device seventeen times.

I have restarted myself emotionally at least twice.

Everyone Expects You to Know What You're Doing

This is perhaps the funniest part of adulthood.

People assume you're competent.

You receive an email that says:

“Please review the attached document and let me know your thoughts.”

Your thoughts?

My thoughts are that I opened the document.

That is currently the extent of my thoughts.

You attend a meeting where everyone nods seriously.

You nod too.

Do you understand what's happening?

Absolutely not.

But you have mastered the adult survival technique known as strategic nodding.

Someone says, “Does everyone agree?”

You nod.

Someone says, “Any questions?”

You shake your head.

Someone says, “Great.”

You have successfully survived another meeting without revealing that your brain left the building approximately twenty-two minutes ago.

Health and Wellness: Another Scam

Adulthood also comes with the expectation that you should somehow maintain a healthy lifestyle.

You should exercise.

Drink enough water.

Eat vegetables.

Sleep eight hours.

Reduce stress.

Spend time outdoors.

Practice mindfulness.

Get enough protein.

Limit screen time.

Take breaks.

Maintain friendships.

Have hobbies.

Work hard.

Rest.

Be productive.

Be present.

Be balanced.

At this point, I would like to propose a revolutionary wellness strategy:

Lie down.

That's it.

No complicated routine.

No expensive equipment.

Just lie down.

If possible, add a blanket.

For advanced practitioners, include a snack.

The Emotional Side of Adulting

Nobody tells you that adulthood isn't just about practical responsibilities.

It also comes with emotional responsibilities.

You are expected to communicate.

Set boundaries.

Manage conflict.

Understand your feelings.

Apologize when you're wrong.

Forgive people.

Make healthy choices.

Maintain relationships.

Know when to walk away.

Know when to stay.

And occasionally, you're supposed to “trust the process.”

Which process?

Who is running this process?

Can I speak to the manager?

Sometimes I want to return my entire personality for store credit.

But Here’s the Plot Twist

Despite my official rating of 0/10, there are a few things I secretly like about adulthood.

I like choosing what I eat.

I like having my own space.

I like staying up late without someone telling me to go to bed.

I like making spontaneous plans.

I like buying ridiculous things simply because I can.

I like the quiet satisfaction of solving a problem I once thought was impossible.

And occasionally, I experience a tiny moment of competence.

The smoke alarm goes off because I accidentally burned dinner.

I handle it.

The sink gets clogged.

I fix it.

I receive an intimidating letter in the mail.

I open it instead of hiding it under a pile of magazines.

I successfully schedule an appointment.

I remember to bring the required documents.

I pay a bill before the due date.

I stand there afterward thinking:

“Look at me.”

A functioning member of society.

For approximately eleven minutes.

Then I realize I forgot to buy toilet paper.

Final Verdict

So, would I recommend adulting?

Absolutely not.

The benefits package is confusing.

The hours are terrible.

The management is inconsistent.

The workload is unreasonable.

The training program does not exist.

The pay disappears immediately.

There are surprise expenses.

There is no vacation from responsibility.

And the laundry is immortal.

Final rating: 0/10. Do not recommend.

However, if you're already trapped in the system, don't panic.

Nobody has it completely figured out.

Some people just have better-looking calendars.

Some people know how to fold fitted sheets.

Some people understand taxes.

Some people meal-prep on Sundays.

And some of us consider remembering to drink water a major personal achievement.

The secret of adulthood, I've discovered, is not becoming someone who has everything under control.

It's becoming someone who can laugh when everything is absolutely not under control.

You burn the dinner?

Order takeout.

Forget the appointment?

Reschedule it.

Make a terrible decision?

Learn something from it.

Have a bad day?

Go home, put on comfortable clothes, and eat something that comes in a bowl.

Because maybe adulting was never supposed to be about having all the answers.

Maybe it's about figuring things out one ridiculous problem at a time.

And occasionally looking around your apartment at the unpaid bills, dirty dishes, laundry mountain, empty refrigerator, and mysterious noise coming from the kitchen and thinking:

“Well...

At least nobody can tell me to go to bed.”

**Adulting: still 0/10.

But the snacks are pretty good.**