Everybody’s Working Through The Weekend (Or: I Made This List Instead of Accomplishing Anything)

You know that oft-quoted study that says that the average American worker changes jobs seven times in their lifetime? And then all those other studies that are like “uh, Millennials are changing jobs quicker than they can discard their chewed bubblegum,” or “Actually, did I say seven? So sorry, in the wake of this economic rigamarole we actually have no idea what’s going to happen to you guys!” (These are usually the same articles that feature stock photos of office workers looking bewildered in cubicles, or racially diverse attractive people smiling in business suits. Is that what actual offices look like? I honestly have no idea. I haven’t worn a suit to work since, well, ever. Is that normal? I just assumed that since I don’t own a business suit, no other twenty-seven-year-olds do either).

So it’s a Sunday night and I’ve been working straight through the weekend (one of the upsides/downsides to the freelance life) and I’ve been feeling super guilty that I took a dinner break and cleaned the kitchen and did some laundry instead of doing more work, and that’s when I started to think, man, I’m living my dream and all, but – maybe it’s time to change it up a little. Maybe I should start exploring what those other 7+ career change options look like.


Costume designer
Teaching artist
Occasional good-to-have-for-this-weird-job-type person
Occasional arts administrator

(Do I list “blogger?” Seeing as how I’ve never made any money on it, probably not. Actually, fuck it. I’ll leave it. I’m a …. Blogger. Wait. No. Fuck that. I hate that word.  Say it enough times and it starts to sound awful. Blog. Blog. Blog. Blog. Blog. Blog. Blogger. Blogger. Blog. UGH. I feel like I’m drowning in green swampy soup. Say it enough times and I feel like some horrible gremlin with pocked skin and stringy hair under a bridge pestering people to read my BLOG. Gross.

“Writer.” That’s better.)


Professional cheese taster
World-traveling Woman Of Mystery
Bartender at a secluded swim-up bar on a private island
Member of a celebrity entourage*
Backup dancer for Frankie Valli cover band
Presidential high-fiver**
Designing the model showrooms for the Ikea store
Sassy receptionist who talks loudly about her sex life at work
Luxury Yacht Evaluator
Ira Glass’ personal assistant
Outsider Artist
1940’s-era private investigator
Traveling hobo with a Story To Tell
Small-town girl with a dream
Whiskey distillery owner
The one who gets to eat all the leftover food from all the cooking shows
YouTube Quality Control, Kitten Video Division
Minister of Photoshop Jokes

*But only if that celebrity was like, sort of a homebody and didn’t get out much. Ideally, my celebrity friendship would be limited to “Hey! I made you this banana bread! Want to eat all of it while drinking bourbon in your living room and talking shit on Miley’s new haircut? Good, cause I really didn’t feel like not wearing these sweatpants right now.” 

**A job I just made up wherein I hold office hours at the White House so that in case the Prez is ever feeling down, he can stop by and I’ll give him a high-five. If he’s lucky, I’ll also mention that I like his tie, or ask if he’s lost weight, or offhandedly remark that I bet his family is very proud of him. I will spend the remainder of my office hours brainstorming ways to casually bump into his super-cute chief speechwriter, Jon Favreau.***

***Not THAT Jon Favreau. Look it up.