‘Day Jobs’ v. ‘Careers’: Let’s Discuss

I think most of us are raised to look down on “day jobs.” They’re just supposed to be temporary—a band-aid until you can start your real career and living with purpose. But I’m not sure that’s really how we should look at them. Is there something so wrong with the idea that work is work, and when you’re done with it you leave it there and go spend your free time doing things you enjoy?

I get that the ideal is to “love what you do” and have your work be a career in something you enjoy. But I mean, work is called “work” for a reason. So, by definition, even if you have a career pursuing your “passion” instead of a day job that’s really just meant to pay the bills, it still seems pretty normal to not completely enjoy it. And furthermore, careers, as opposed to days jobs, usually involve taking your work home with you, which, in my experience, makes people resentful because they’re constantly stressed out.

Also, career-type jobs are never as glamorous as they seem. That girl you know who’s always working movie premiers? She’s getting shat on regularly by her boss, who’s on a permanent juice cleanse and makes her go on Jenny Craig with her 11-year old daughter who’s too “chubby” and it’s “dishonoring the family name.” Or your friend who’s a wedding planner? She’s constantly getting 3 AM phone calls from brides whose beet-juice spray tans turned out pinker than anticipated even though it’s fucking BEET JUICE WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU EXPECT, and now they’re worried their white dresses are going to get stained, although if purity and innocence is what they’re going for, we all know that was tainted long ago.

Your college classmate who’s doing design work for Martha Stewart? Don’t even get her started on the list of words you’re not allowed to utter there, including “prison,” “Oprah,” and “real people don’t live like this.” And your cousin who’s an assistant to Jennifer Aniston? Yeah, super cool on the surface because TEAM JEN ALL THE WAY, but she hasn’t had a physical in way longer than however long you’re supposed to wait between physicals, because it’s hard to take care of yourself when your entire life becomes consumed with making sure another person’s life runs smoothly—literally—you have to make sure their colon is clean and clear at all times.

Kinda makes you jealous of the janitor who, yeah, has to clean toilets, but gets to listen and dance to Taylor Swift while doing so, and actually gets to take lunch. Or the barista who gets to make pretty designs in milk foam all day and can clock in for overtime. Or the bartender who gets to see lots of sad, sad people play out their pitiful existences and probably has reasonably controlled hours.

Like, wouldn’t you rather be in one of those positions than take a job that’s either a) at the bottom of the ladder but supposedly where you have to start and be miserable “paying your dues,” all on the road to “living your dream,” whatever the fuck that means, or b) a higher-up position, but leaves you stuck in the drone of corporate, work-never-ends life?

I think people who claim to have careers “doing what they love” are kind of delusional and/or full of it. Maybe a rare few are genuinely happy with their work, but on the whole, I’m not sure that most are super thrilled, or at least happier than the day-jobbers. And even if you’re not willing to concede that careers aren’t in fact more fulfilling than day jobs, at the very least, the superiority complex that accompanies them should be squashed. After all, somebody has to mow your lawn, so unless you’re willing to do it yourself, lose the self-righteousness and just say “gracias.”

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Dress Codes: Let’s Discuss

Right out of the gate I’m going to tell you I deplore dress codes. People say religion is the opiate of the masses (which I also agree with, but I guess that’s for another post), but I think that’s really what dress codes are.


Barring cases where a uniform makes sense—i.e. a preschool field trip where the teacher has to identify if a pedophile is running away with one of her students, so she has them all wear neon yellow t-shirts (which frankly just draw more attention to them, when if they want to avoid child molesters, they should probably fly under the radar because otherwise they’re kind of asking for it)—I don’t understand dress codes. Who decided that a hoodie = lazy/casual and a blazer = driven/professional?

Personally, I’m a fan of what I like to call the “zero fucks given” dress code, which basically puts comfort above all other considerations. This means you can usually find me in clothing that I can expand into—sweatpants, leggings, sweaters, cotton anything, baggy anything, loose t-shirts, etc—regardless of the occasion. Like I’ll wear stretch pants and a maternity ‘blouse’ to your wedding, flip flops to a club, jeans to a funeral—I don’t care. I just can’t be bothered to dress a certain way because someone else thinks it’s necessary or appropriate or validates me as a person to be taken seriously. Not to mention most clothing that’s deemed “fancy” is super uncomfortable—I don’t want to be stuck in a dress made of some starchy fabric that I’m going to have to butter my way out of (but replace the dress with some bread and I’m good to go), try to squeeze into panty hose like a sausage bursting out of its casing, or waddle around clumsily in high heels. No thanks.

But this seems to not work for a lot of people. They look at me weird when I wear spandex to a dinner party or gym pants to work (because of course I’m not going to the gym, so they have to be worn somewhere). Why is it so unacceptable for me to clothe my body however I want to? I don’t judge them for wearing hideously pretentious bow-ties, shoes that cost enough money to feed a small country, or monogrammed polo shirts with their crisply pressed khakis embroidered with navy blue anchors that I wish were real anchors because then I could push them off a bridge and they’d sink to the bottom. Or when they force their kids to go to a private school where they have to wear skirts hemmed to an exact length probably just so the principal can get off on his naughty school girl fantasy without being sent to jail for it. Or when they wear tragic pantsuits to their sad 9-5’s or out to their ‘ladies lunches’ with a bunch of friends who wouldn’t tell them if they had poppy seeds stuck in their teeth because anything to get ahead, right?


Why can’t we all just express our individuality freely? And furthermore, not be punished for it? Like, fine, if you want to pretend your life has more meaning because you’re wearing a silk gown hand sewn by Chinese child slaves, then go for it. But don’t not let me into your establishment just because I’m wearing pajama pants that can totally pass for real pants regardless of what section they were sold in at Target. Because unless we all want to end up in a homogenized society like a little something called Nazi Germany, we really need to just get over it and focus on things that are far more important than dress codes—like what we’re going to eat, when we’re going to eat it, and where, and then what/when/where we’re going to eat after that.

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How to Survive Staff Meetings

Can we all agree that staff meetings are a spectacular waste of time? They’re just a masturbatory exercise for the head of the company, who might as well be talking to himself, because that’s what he’s doing, only with all of us sitting around him pretending to listen. (I say “he” because, as I discussed yesterday, more likely than not he’s a he, not a her). In other words, staff meetings are the worst. Look up “the worst” in the dictionary, and you’ll see “staff meetings”–right next to “herpes.”

the office

Our time would be better served elsewhere. Not doing work or being productive, of course–but procrastinating and doing things we’d rather be doing. Like eating, or sleeping, or eating. But since we’re forced to be the supportive backup circle jerk to the head honcho’s jack-off sesh, we might as well find a way to survive our staff meetings. Here are some helpful suggestions for you to that end.

1. Glue your face to your cell phone

Use this time to catch up on your social meds, take that quiz you’ve been meaning to take entitled, “Just How Much Have You Given up on Yourself, on a Scale of Tori Spelling to Whoopi Goldberg?,” respond to your ex-boyfriend’s drunk texts from the night before, delete a bunch of emails you won’t be reading because you just don’t feel like it, stalk your other ex-boyfriend’s new girlfriend on Instagram, WebMD that weird pain you’ve been having in your hand that you’re convinced is an STD, send apologies for your drunk texts the night before, Google how many calories are in the bag of cookies you had for breakfast, and so forth.

2. Kick up your feet.

Literally. Assert your dominance.

3. Snack


4. Let your co-workers know how you really feel.

In reaction to what they say, roll your eyes, snort-laugh, and look around like “WHAT? Did anyone else just hear that?” because undoubtedly it is the DUMBEST nonsense that anyone could ever utter in their life.

5. Spin around in your chair.

And if your chair has wheels, use them as God intended. Roll yourself ALL over the damn place.

6. Take unflattering photos of your co-workers.

No one looks good in a staff meeting. Catch them when they’re at their worst–sleeping, slouching, speaking, etc. Don’t even pretend to be subtle about it.

7. Drink.


8. Use this time to get in your exercise.

This may be the only instance ever in which we’d rather be exercising.

9. Mess with your co-workers

Make repeated scratching noises under the table so they can’t tell where they’re coming from, breathe really loudly, refuse to break eye contact with them, click your pen nonstop, throw things at them (again so they can’t tell where said projectiles are coming from), whisper insults in their general direction (“your children don’t love you,” “you’re looking particularly bloated today,” “it’s funny how when you talk, you think people actually care”), etc.

10. Catch up on some light reading

11. Nap


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