I’m a Writer!
“So, Matt, what do you do for a living?”
“I’m a writer.”
“A writer, eh? That’s… cool. Like books and stuff?”
“No. Blogs, mostly. Wokin’ on a book, though. When I have time.”
[crickets]
“Right on. You’re a blogger,” [snicker] “How’s that working out for ya?”
“Okay, I guess. I also write articles and stuff. Press releases, that sort of thing. What do you do?”
“I’m in the production and allocation field of promotional construction and I build technology with my bare hands and I yell at people and I go to work in the morning and come home at night like a normal person and work hard and wear steel-toed boots and am drastically underpaid and under appreciated but earn a semi-decent living and usually have to wear a tie unless it’s Casual Friday and brown nose the bosses and sometimes my wife packs me a lunch with double turkey meat and a little note that says she loves me and to pick up some milk on my way home and I have my own parking space that I have to pay $40 a month to keep even though the parking deck is owned by the company I work for and sometimes I get to take home pads of paper and once I stole some printer ink and in the winter time everyone wears a black coat because black coats look the best in a corporate environment and I almost got laid off last year because, you know, the damn economy, and I make sure the whole operation is running smoothly and I help to ensure quality control and oversee the direction of valuable workforce allocation memos and provide comprehensive analysis to the regional vice president of marketing and task-force management while providing top-notch customer service and maintain synergy with the departmental liaisons so I can provide my family with a roof over their heads and food on the table and maybe a Merry Christmas.”
[crickets]
“I work in my skivvies and drink hot cocoa all day long. I haven’t shaved in a week.”
“DUDE! I SOO WISH I COULD DO THAT! YOU’RE MY HERO!”
And that, dear readers, is why I am becoming more confident when people ask me what I do for a living. Because everyone wishes they could work sans-pants. Truth.
