I spent all night making out with a gorgeous guy by the ski lodge fireplace, only to add his Snap and discover he’s 39, my boss’s cousin, and thinks I run the London marketing branch. I’m literally a twenty-two-year-old intern who fetches coffee. I want to fake my own death and move into an alpine cave. How do I even show up to work on Monday?

Deep breath: nobody needs to fake their death over spiced wine and a classic case of mistaken corporate identity. First off, take the accidental compliment: you radiated so much competence and charm in your ski gear that a grown man assumed you were pulling a six-figure salary. That’s not a humiliation; that’s accidental aura. The fifteen-year gap and the boss connection, however, do mean you need to pop this bubble before the ski lodge rumor mill beats you to the office. Don’t ghost, and definitely don’t let the lie simmer. Send him a breezy, deadpan reality check on Snap right now: “Had fun by the fire, but plot twist: I’m actually an intern at the firm, not running it! Small world. Let’s keep the lodge antics off the corporate Slack.” If he has any grace, he’ll laugh at his own blindness and keep it moving. And if he feels awkward dating someone in entry-level territory, good—that saves you a messy HR nightmare. Hold your head up on Monday; you’re an intern with senior executive energy.