Dear Friends, Family and Colleagues,
I write to you with my tongue pressed only slightly against my inner jowl in response to your recent solicitation to "grab dinner" "take a trip" "'support your kid's soccer team" "attend your Mary Kay or Lula Roe party" ad infinitum. It is my hope that the inadvertent outcome will serve as a cover letter of sorts which outline a few of the ways in which it is in everyone's best interest that I procure gainful employment.
First, I know you all are thinking, "But didn't she just become a DOCTOR?!" Well, yes, and unless we calculate net-worth as the absolute value of my student loan balance, being a doctor means very, very little. It is partially why those of us who have earned them like being called Doctor so much. Aside from social capital and upgrades on airplanes (unless you fly United), being a newly minted doctor means more debt than dollars. I won't even get into how now on the other side of shit mountain, aka graduate school, I have grown increasingly more suspicious of higher education as social institution to occupy the power of the young and vibrant. Keeping us tied up in educational achievement while they run politics, government, and social agencies. The more old people fear losing their places in the workforce and the older they live, the more degrees we need. Funny how that works isn't it? Karl Marx thought so, too. But I digress.
Your girl needs a job. Not only for obvious reasons: to eat, and put a roof over my head and 1500 Egyptian cotton thread count sheets on my body. I need a job for reasons that also benefit you. For my single friends who have ever been anywhere with me in public, you can attest to my Unicorn-level unfuckwitability at being the Wingman. You need me to have disposable income to go out with you! Not only that, but there's all the upkeep we need as youthful, single women. Manicures, pedicures, threading, bleaching, dying, facials, etc. It is expensive! And we have passed the age where we could leverage our looks into loans we never intended to pay back. Not because we're too old for Sugar Daddies, but because we are too woke to pretend to be damsels in distress stroking the male ego for financial security. I will ruin my credit twice before I sexted a man who likes to be called "My King" just to pay my rent. Except, we are also past the age of ignoring our credit. Despite my other beef with the entire ideology that a system of "social worthiness" is founded in and upheld by social inequities, I want some bomb ass credit. I want the kind of credit that speaks for itself. When I bought my first car, I had awesome credit and a yearly income of around 25k/year. Four years later, trying to buy that same car making well over double that amount of money less a 100 points on my credit (Hey! Judge not, life happens) but that same car was going to cost me MORE because my interest rate nearly doubled. That is how fucking good I want my credit to be, I want to make $7.50 working at a mall kisok and get pre-approved for a 40k BMW and stunt for the gram like the American Dream I am.
Where was I? Right. Lifestyle. Friends, you are amazing lawyers and doctors and engineers and I'm so proud of you. Truly, I am, and I want to be able to celebrate all of your amazing life accomplishments. I want to be at your kid's 5th birthday party with a gift more than a coupon for cuddles. I want to be able to take that girls trip to Amsterdam so we can get high on hash brownies in that tulip field while we take ethereal Instavideos and Boomerangs. I want that for us! I know you want it too because I get all the emails with last minute super saver flight deals. I'm not ignoring them, I'm unemployed. But you can help!
So many of you have been asking what type of work I'm looking for. The difficult answer to that is, I am not looking for work at all. I have taken all to kindly to a life of leisure and limited means. I have found it far too easy to indulge in the artists lifestyle where I write sometimes all day and sometimes not at all. I let roam my creative curiosity and paint or draw or take meandering drives for photos of the perfect unobstructed view of the horizon. I know you are jealous of all my free time, well touche because I am jealous of your ability to pay your cell phone bill on time. We all make choices.
Wait. Pause that, rewind, reverse it. I am looking for a position in an organization who appreciates that despite my best efforts I will always be late, but I will always have my work done on time if not a week prior. I would like a supervisor with a nice dry sense of humor who read all of my emails in a British accent because that is usually how I write them. I would love to be executive director of some office responsible for networking, work parties, business lunches, and company boondoggles to Jackson Hole and Seychelles. I'd love if the company had a feminist organizational philosophy and incentivized self-care and personal development. Also, if I could bring my hypothetical future twins Gemma and Chloe to the office so I can give my nanny a half-day on Fridays, that would be optimal. Standing desk would be clutch, but isn't a deal-breaker.
Really though, if I could just land something lucrative enough for me to be my own artistic benefactor and stimulating enough to hold my professional interest without me being harassed, bullied, discriminated against for having a disability or expected to be the sassy fat Black sidekick who always makes everybody laugh and never needs any consolation for herself, that would be great. Let me know if you need my CV, it's light pink so make sure you enable HTML in your email. I'll just send the PDF.
Jessica Williams is a FUNemployed writer who spends her days aggressively checking her group chats and refreshing her email inbox. She was rejected from Elite Daily, Everyday Feminism, and Huffington Post Women because her work was too unpolished and she didn't have enough followers on Instagram. Her dream job is to be a writer for FX's Atlanta and go on a date to Fogo de Chão with Brian Tyree Henry.