‘I don’t know how to set up direct deposit. I just wait for the checks to be delivered.’

Unfortunately, I have no idea what I’m doing.

[Editor’s note: “I don’t know what I’m doing” is a recurring personal column that pays homage to Johnny Auping’s “I have no idea what I’m doing” personal column in The New Yorker. Opinions expressed here belong only to the author, and, we hope, nobody else on the planet.–Josh Towner, opinions editor]

By Callie Chase | Clarion Staff Writer

I go through my day only knowing how to do some things, the other things I just fake. I don’t think anyone really notices the amount of things I don’t know how to do. Maybe I should show people more. They say that being genuine is attractive, right?

I usually nod along during a conversation if I don’t know who Leonardo DiCaprio or Patrick Mahomes is, because if I asked people to explain every time, that would take too long.

I don’t know much about politics, nor do I spend time trying to learn. I educate myself by listening to my parents friends talk about President Trump’s successes and my brother Matt complaining about immigration issues, but I never truly learn about who stands for what. I familiarize myself with the candidates names on signs along the street, but I don’t actually know who Amy Klobuchar or Tina Smith is.

One time I learned how to change the oil in my car, but that was a few years ago, so I don’t remember. If one of my tires went flat, I would probably just call my dad.

My fingers are my mental math. If I am designated score keeper for a game of cards up at the cabin, I will count on my fingers every time. One time I decided to count in my head, but the score got so screwed up that I ended up winning and my dad called me out for cheating. I didn’t even realize I messed up the score for my favor, that’s how bad I am at math.

When it comes to cooking chicken, I overcook it because I’m nervous of undercooking it and getting sick. I cut it up into tiny pieces to make sure there isn’t any trace of pink. When I eat at Applebees, I always make sure to order my meat medium instead of well-done because that’s a luxury.

I don’t know when my credit card bill is due, I just pay every incremental payment as soon as they process on my Wells Fargo app. I’m scared of late fees, even though I’ve never had one. I don’t know how to set up direct deposit for my Bethel paychecks either. I just wait for the check to be delivered to my P.O. box every other Wednesday.

I can sit down and play A Thousand Miles by Vanessa Carlton on the piano, but I have no clue how to read sheet music. The secret is, I watch someone play it on YouTube and memorize where to put my fingers. This might be cheating the system, but it works for me.

I truly didn’t understand how much debt I had until the summer after junior year of college. College is expensive, wait, Bethel is even more expensive. Somehow I will pay it off though.

I don’t tithe anymore. My parents raised me to tithe 10 percent of every paycheck, even my babysitting money. Now that they don’t see my paychecks, I don’t tithe anymore. Maybe I will one day when I have more money. But I know that that’s the point with tithing. I’m a hypocrite.

I have no idea why I am majoring in communications and journalism. It took me until November of my senior year to figure out I should have tried to study business instead. It took me until May of my senior year of high school to pick a college. I’m sensing a pattern. Great ideas come at the last second, but I can’t always execute them because it’s too late.

I have no idea how to format my homework in the Clarion template. I always wait until Zach turns his homework in first on the shared google drive, and then I open his document to see what mine should look like.

And even though I don’t know who all the political candidates are, I will manage to make it through social situations by nodding along. I will manage to pay off my student loans and maybe even tithe one day. And if my car ever breaks down, my dad is just one call away. Even though I don’t know what I’m doing, someone else always does.