Location: A bar stool at my favorite watering hole.
Time: Late Friday night/early Saturday morning.
I hate talking about my job. Why? Because I don’t like my job, and therefore any conversation regarding it is inevitably horrible. But when you first meet someone, almost always, you have to discuss your job. I think this is because there really isn’t much else to talk about when the man trying to spark the conversation is 15 years your senior and has been divorced at least once.
“So what do you to for a living?” I asked the older man in the Clark Kent glasses. He and his friend had taken seats next to my friend, Joanna, and me for the purpose, it seemed, of accosting us. Joanna’s defense to such an annoyance is to stare intently at the ceiling. Mine is to ask a lot of irritating questions.
“I come from money,” he answered.
“You what?” I asked, and couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Perhaps this was slightly rude of me to do—but really, who says that?
“I have an inheritance,” he said, with the utmost of seriousness. This was an answer to that question I had never heard before. I couldn’t tell if it was a clever effort to skirt an annoying inquiry—or if it really was the truth.
But to be honest, I didn’t care. There wasn’t much time to ponder it, anyway, because Clark Kent’s friend began to harass Joanna.
“So what do you do, beautiful?” he asked her.
Without moving her eyes from the highly fascinating track lighting above, Joanna responded, “I’m in school. I’m studying to be a teacher for children with early childhood disabilities.” Then she turned to face me and gave me that “if you speak to these idiots one more time, I’ll kill you” look with which I have become so familiar in my years of sitting for hours upon hours on bar stools with Joanna. Bar-sitting is our favorite pastime.
As I began to ponder other possible conversation topics, Clark’s friend leaned towards us. “So, what are you ladies doing later?” he asked.
Later? It was already nearing 3 a.m. “Well, I’m going to bed,” I responded. “And not with you.”
“Oh,” he said, obviously put off by my response. That, of course, did not stop him from asking the inevitable “What do you do?”
I knew this was coming, after all, I was the one who began this line of questioning in the first place. It is not a question that I like to ask, and it is certainly one that I hate to answer, mainly because I can no longer say, “I’m a student.” Instead, my answer is this: “I work for [the company I work for]. I write letters. I copy edit marketing collateral. I call our customers. I enter data. I stare at a blinding computer screen all day long.”
My answer used to have such potential. It was interesting. Telling someone that you are a student implies a sense of direction—you are going to be something. Joanna’s going to be an early childhood special ed teacher, something quite admirable indeed. I was going to be a journalist, or a sociologist, or an activist. In fact, I could be anything I wanted to be at any moment—then, when I said wildly false things, such as I’m going to teach English as a second language in Bolivia, they weren’t lies, they were unrealized half-truths. They were ideas.
But those ideas never materialized into much, and for now I am a cubicle-dweller and unhappy about it.
“Well, what do you do?” he asked again.
I averted the answer by signaling urgently for Todd the Bartender. Todd is my hero for many reasons, not the least of which is his brilliant ability to detect and deter potential douchebags. He walked up to the four of us, took note of the situation, and propped his elbows up on the bar with his back slightly turned towards the two men and began to tell the longest, most convoluted, nonsensical, fast-talking story I have ever heard. I think he might have made it up on the spot. It had something to do with his ability to make Bloody Mary’s with every conceivable spice on the planet.
Sure enough, our irritants got up and moved away.
But Todd the Bartender, unfortunately, can’t save me every time. Sometimes I do have to answer the question, and I hate that. I feel like I should be able to answer with what it is I want to be, not what I am. For instance:
Irritant: What do you do for a living?
Laura: I am Maureen Dowd’s protégé. I have a widely-read op-ed column in a major daily newspaper.
Or:
Irritant: What do you do for a living?
Laura: I am an editor at one of the most respected weekly magazines in the world.
Or:
Irritant: What do you do for a living?
Laura: I am a shockingly successful freelance journalist.
Or:
Irritant: What do you do for a living?
Laura: I am writing a novel that is already a bestseller—and I haven’t even finished the third chapter.
Someday, I hope, I will be happy with my answer. It won’t depress me, and it won’t force me to follow it up with but it’s only temporary or gotta pay the bills somehow. Really, though, it could be worse. At least I have a job, and in reality, it’s not a bad job at all. But it’s not what I want to be, and it’s not helping me get there. My answer, for the first time ever, is entirely static, and I think that’s why it’s so difficult for me to verbalize.
Unfortunate and unrelated side note: My dog just peed all over my bed. And she didn’t just pee, she Niagra Fall’d (Niagra Fell?) — it’s everywhere. I started yelling as she was midstream, and the result was that she stood up and jumped off the bed while she was peeing, getting urine all over the place, including on my treasured, half-finished Sunday New York Times crossword (when I wrote, “More on this later,” in Saturday’s post about the puzzle, I didn’t mean it literally.)Luckily, she threw up yesterday in the back seat of my car, so I had a newly-purchased bottle of Nature’s Miracle Stain and Odor Remover on hand. Tonight, I think, I’ll sleep on the couch.
I love my dog dearly, but sometimes, just sometimes, she’s a pain in the arse. I can’t really get mad at her though — this episode seems to be one of many to come. She’s getting old [read: incontinent]. Poor thing.
22 responses so far ↓
1 The_Mouseketeer // Mar 14, 2005 at 3:34 pm
Small talk is annoying.
And very personal stuff early on is off-putting.
Strange how that works.
2 BouncingIntoGraceland // Mar 14, 2005 at 3:39 pm
i am the river… you are the river…
you’re in URINETOWN!
3 doctorperky // Mar 14, 2005 at 4:03 pm
“Luckily, she threw up yesterday in the back seat of my car…” I don’t think I’ve ever used “luckily” and “threw up” in the same sentence regarding my dogs.I usually like my job but it’s impossible to explain succinctly, so I hate answering that question too. “I’m a writer” is a possibility; it’s true, but it sounds so silly. You could just pretend you don’t understand the implied “…for a living” and say “I walk my dog in Central Park” or “I hang out in bars making small talk with losers” or “I watch the Bold and the Beautiful in my underwear” or something like that. It might make a good screening device for people you meet.
4 TimsHead // Mar 14, 2005 at 5:11 pm
One of my favorite fortune cookie messages ever is the following: Life is not a marathon; it is a series of shorter sprints. And my first few years after college, they were sprints I couldn’t seem to win. I struggled through retail jobs, losing what seemed like a great job, then collecting unemployment (and feeling like a world-class disappointment).Along the way, through the ups and downs, I realized that not many people conquer the world in their early 20s, particulary in a down economy. But I kept trying and doing everything I could. Finally, I caught up in the sprints of life, finding a good job and a more satisfying existence. I think it’s important to remember that [Warning: Cliche ahead!] life is a journey, not a destination. Where we are today is only the first step toward where we will be tomorrow. We can always start with an attainable finish line … whether it’s doing our job better, escaping weasels in a bar, or completing the New York Times crossword puzzle.
5 trcs // Mar 14, 2005 at 5:24 pm
Sometimes I think that you pluck thoughts out of my head and then articulate them for me, waaaay better than I ever could! I love this post.If I ever get to New York again, I would love the honor of joining you in some bar-sitting… it is also one of my favorite things to do.What is your drink of choice?
6 McCrakin_Phil // Mar 14, 2005 at 5:58 pm
Sorry to hear about the dog/bed incident. Hope the couch is comfy. If im ever in NY id love to look u up to do some bar-sitting. Only if I could pose a particular question. It wouldgo something like this; So… (awkward silence)Ma’am, what do u do for a living?
7 Magazineman // Mar 14, 2005 at 6:01 pm
What a tool! “I come from money”?!? And he asks you what you do. Of course, the answer “I work for a living” pretty much trumps that.By the way, the whole “I’m a magazine editor” line never works. No one ever believes it.
Sorry to hear about the dog peeing on your bed. There’s pretty much no upside to that. Unless you do it to them…
8 xrottingfromwithinx // Mar 14, 2005 at 6:25 pm
“I’m a student.” Instead, it is this: “I work for [the company I work for]. I write letters. I copy edit marketing collateral. I call our customers. I enter data. I stare at a blinding computer screen all day long.”
A sense of paranoia lulls my body into a cold sweat as I realize I’ll be in a similar predicament in about 15 months.
____
What’s this ?
9 Gabe_Real // Mar 14, 2005 at 8:00 pm
Sadly, I fear that, not even Positive Vibescould save your bed.I love how each mini conversation starts off with “Irritant”… Like a little pebble that’s stuck in your shoe… or a grain of sand in your eye. Heh..Positive Vibes all around. Chelsea too.Take care of you.Note: I now know ONE person who has finished the New York Times Crossword.Irritant: What do you do for a living?Laura: I’m a Superhero.
10 chublin // Mar 14, 2005 at 8:40 pm
time for a new xanga name. mydogchelseawetsthebed?
11 Jules27 // Mar 14, 2005 at 9:29 pm
Brilliant post. So many of us writers either have been or are looking for those sort-of-in-my-field-but-not-exactly-what-I-want-to-do jobs. It sucks, no question. But on the up side, a) you’re young and I’mpositive you will some day land “the job”, b) in the meantime it makes for great blog material, c) when you land that job, call me and tell me how you did it.
12 Didya_evawonda // Mar 15, 2005 at 1:49 am
F’in brilliant! (Except the dog pee, of course.)
13 Branna // Mar 15, 2005 at 2:43 am
It’s so disheartening when someone asks me for my job title, and I respond with “File Clerk”. Sigh.
Poor dog.
14 why_not // Mar 15, 2005 at 3:56 am
by any chance was this guy from texas? i believe i know who you are speaking of. the people you meet at bars. thats why i have created and alter-ego when i bar hop. even at the bar i usuaully attend on fridays has no clue what i really do. its fun though. well im outtie. laters.
15 MaximaBella // Mar 15, 2005 at 3:59 am
your dog reminds me of a very early blog of mine about my cat Drake who had anxiety disorder, he PEED EVERYWHERE…one time he started peeing on the couch, I picked him up and started swatting his butt midstream, carried his ass to the balcony and he peed all the way…URGH!
damn damn animals!
Great blog, I hope someday you do become a journalist, your great!
As for the ‘what do you do’ question..I gotta kick outta saying ‘Im an insurance agent’…
but, ‘with great power, comes great responsibilty’
something i forgot along the way….
which reminds me, I think Todd might also be your ‘spidey’
16 chicagoartgirl23 // Mar 15, 2005 at 4:33 am
Not to be one of those misery loves company people, but this essay cheered me up. I’ve been running into all these people I graduated college with (a whopping year ago) and they all are pretending they are wildly happy with their jobs and it makes me want to scream, “LIAR!” at them. The nerve! Entry-level jobs for us English/sociology/arts people are exactly what you described. Your job sounds a lot like one of my jobs. But I don’t think it’s so bad to keep telling irritants what you are working towards first. My husband will be a full-time, best selling fiction writer one of these days. In the mean time, he says, “I’m a writer whose day job is in office land.” I say, “I’m saving up for grad school and world travel,” when asked what I do. Because when I go to enter data and call stuffy museum donors and schedule lunch meetings for everyone on the planet and edit marketing copy, that is exactly what I am doing—I’m just saving my money to get an education to have a better job. And even then I will be an “art therapist who is an aspiring writer and filmmaker.” You are too cool and your writing is too awesome to ditch those dreams. Try not to let your cubicle walls squeeze the life out of you today!
17 sunshineboy78 // Mar 15, 2005 at 5:08 am
As you know, I too have difficulty with the job question. I usually say, when people ask me what I do, oh, makemoney. My other response is “pay bills.”
When cosmos first moved to New York, he had two accidents. One of them was a big ol’ crap right in the middle of the bed. He doesn’t do that anymore, though, when he gets sick, he does do horrible things to the carpet.
18 Jay_galk25 // Mar 15, 2005 at 6:14 am
As I sit here eating my Eddy’s Girl Scout Ice Cream (made with real “brownies”), I can’t help but be all giddy, reading your posts as I’ve said before is like Christmas, and this one is like the best for last, what an amazing post. You serious amaze me at how great of a writer you are and yet your not published, which is a travesty. If anything you totally inspire me, and I only wish I had a quarter of the talent that you possess. Btw, you remind me of my cousin, except your not a snoddy whore. How do you feel about changing your last name?
.
Jay “Rawr”
19 Jay_galk25 // Mar 15, 2005 at 6:28 am
Forgot to add, Omar spends his days strolling around telling everyone how he’s a “Trust Fund Girl” which I see as worse then, “I come from money.” Ah, the shamelessness of me and my friends, we need our own series.
20 tektoo2 // Mar 15, 2005 at 6:46 am
Track lighting is always interesting in situations like that. Sometimes even the intricacies of flooring can make for good conversations, when faced with a person like that.
I hope Chelsea is ok…
21 brotherpriest // Mar 15, 2005 at 9:20 am
I think I’ve got a few suggestions.Irritant: “What do you do for a living?”Laura: “Well, I’m currently studying to be a washroom attendant at the local jail.” ORIrritant: “What do you do for a living?”Laura: “Pick scabs.”ORIrritant: “What do you do for a living?”Laura: “Nothing. Go away, dipshit.”
22 Coccinella // Mar 15, 2005 at 6:17 pm
OMG!! I didn’t have to wait long after all, to start laughing again – you are sooooo hilarious, my god!! If you ever write a book – please please let us know!!!
lol.
On a more serious note, I can so relate to the “what do you do for a living” question – for I am in a static state as well..feel like i’m going nowhere – just paying bills (barely). It’s scary for me because life is so short..and I don’t like wasting my time this way, or living my life with absolutely no purpose. But here I am, and I will do the same thing tomorrow and the next day. ..it’s sickening really. ..Actually I don’t even like thinking about this..hmm yes, I think my bed is calling me. Goodnight