So there I was scrolling through Twitter one rainy Tuesday, totally bored out of my mind. Stumbled upon this “Virgo Career Horoscope 2022” thing and thought – hell, why not? Always thought astrology was fuzzy nonsense, but my job felt stuck in mud last year. Figured it couldn’t hurt.
The Setup Mess
First step was digging up my exact birth details. Called my mom – she argued with me for ten minutes about why I needed this. “I wrote it on the back of your baby book!” she yelled. Found the book covered in ancient applesauce stains. Birth time: 3:17 AM. Place: some tiny hospital that closed in ’99.
Then hit the first wall:
- Tried three free horoscope sites – contradicted each other completely.
- Printed PDFs looked like spaghetti code on paper.
- My highlighters bled through the cheap printouts.
Work Diary Disaster Zone
Bought a fresh notebook just for this experiment. Made columns for each month with sticky notes:
- “Mercury Retrograde” warning flags
- Salary negotiation dates circled in red
- A whole page for April’s “lucky collaboration opportunities”
By March the notebook looked like a bomb hit it. Coffee rings on my “auspicious meeting days” page, doodles of screaming stick figures during “high stress periods”.
The Office Experiment
Started actually following the predictions religiously:
- Delayed asking for that promotion until the supposed “Venus-favoring-work” window in June.
- Spilled latte on my manager during a “communication breakdown” warning period – awkwardly accurate.
- Took vacation during the “career stagnation” week. Found out they promoted Dave instead.
By October my spreadsheet had:
- 37% accuracy on workload forecasts
- ZERO correct “lucky breaks”
- Three panic attacks during “confidence dips”
Epic Fail… Mostly
December rolled around – the horoscope swore I’d land a huge career win. Instead got put on the TPS report committee. But plot twist: Dave got fired for embezzling during his “Jupiter blessing” month. Maybe the stars hate Dave.
The notebook now lives in my bottom desk drawer under stale mints. Verdict? It’s a fancy mood ring for work anxiety. But forcing myself to track this nonsense actually showed me where my real career blocks were. Never saw the $10k raise coming – but that happened when I stopped checking Mercury’s position and updated my damn LinkedIn.
Takeaway? Stars don’t pay bills. But tracking how you react to stupid predictions? Surprisingly useful. Maybe.
