As many of you have gathered from Facebook and Twitter, I gave notice at my day job this past week. My last day at the Met Opera will be May 24th, and then I’ll find something part-time so I actually have time to write that other book I’m supposed to be writing.
*happy sort-of-full-time writer dance*
I’ve been at the Met for four years now, and it’s incredibly strange to be back in Job Hunt Land. According to Craig’s List, I am qualified to do practically nothing, despite my Ivy League education and eight years in the work force. (I am qualified to sell my eggs, but $8,000 seems like kind of a rip-off considering you have to give yourself hormone shots in the stomach.) Nobody seems to have a use for my skill set.
Here are some jobs I would be FABULOUS at, if only they existed:
1) CRAZY PERSON MAGNET
Need a fool-proof way to find out if there’s a crazy person in the room? Put me in the room, and the nutball will come STRAIGHT TO ME. I have no idea why this happens, but it happens constantly. It’s like I’m walking around with a giant tattoo on my forehead that says, “GREETINGS, WHACKADOO. TELL ME A STORY.” I was once sitting on the floor in the corner of a Barnes and Noble, reading a book and minding my own business, when this guy came over and sat down RIGHT in front of me, trapping me in. He proceeded to tell me a lengthy saga about how he’d been shot in the ear the night before. His ear was indeed stitched up, and he had blood on his pants. What kind of guy gets out of the hospital and goes straight to Barnes and Noble instead of going home to change out of his bloody clothing? THE KIND OF GUY WHO LIKES TO TALK TO ME.
I can write a sonnet about any topic—in iambic pentameter, with the proper rhyme scheme—in 20-30 minutes. Unfortunately, this has absolutely never been useful.
3) BABY SEX PREDICTOR
Predicting the sexes of unborn babies is my superpower. I have guessed the sexes of eleven of my friends’ children, and I’ve only been wrong once. Had I lived hundreds of years ago, people might actually have paid me to do this. Now this job is called “ultrasound technician,” and I am totally unqualified to do it.
I have the worst sense of direction known to man. This is one of the reasons I live in New York City; the streets are numbered, so I always know within a block whether I’m going the wrong direction. Yesterday, I walked back and forth past a building I was trying to find for fifteen minutes before I noticed it—and I’d been there at least five times before. When I went to Europe with some friends in the summer of 2002, they actually navigated the streets by asking me which way I thought we should go, then going the other way. It worked EVERY TIME. I could even do it at three-way intersections. I’d say, “We should either go that way or that way,” and it would be the third way. People always ask why I don’t just always go the way that feels wrong to me, but for some reason, that doesn’t work. No matter what I do, I’m still wrong.
5) HUMAN MOSQUITO REPELLANT
Apparently, my blood is DELICIOUS—when I’m around, nobody else ever has to wear bug spray. Maybe I’m extra sweet because I’m constantly eating cookies? In any case, I’m better than a citronella candle. There’s a photo of me dancing at my friend’s wedding a couple years ago, and you can see at least thirty bites on my legs. The people I’m dancing with are completely bite-free.
If you think of a way I can get paid for doing any of these things, please let me know immediately. I wouldn’t complain if there were health benefits involved.