I pitched an incredible opportunity to my little sister today.
“So now that you’re going to be out of school, you can be my assistant. It will be an unpaid internship, but maybe we can get you some school credit… probably not.”
Can you BELIEVE that she decided to forgo this amazing opportunity? I am shocked. Shocked and hurt. And I still need somebody to do my laundry for me. I can’t do it myself because there’s a spider nest in the basement and I’m afraid that if I try to squish it the Spider King will come out and eat me. Also, sometimes I pretend to be Buddhist and squishing spiders is against my pretend religion.
I would be an amazing boss because I’m not bossy at all. I never tell people what to do. If you are unable to read my mind, I calmly hold in my resentment and anger. I do what you’re supposed to be doing until I can’t take it anymore, at which point I will cry buckets and tell you that I shouldn’t have to ask! Wouldn’t you like a boss who doesn’t tell you what to do?
Basically your most important duty as my employee would be to laugh at my jokes and act like you’re interested when I tell yet another story about my cat. Yes, every cat story ends with a cat impression. Sometimes the entire story is a cat impression. I used to do parakeet impressions too but I don’t want to talk about That Awful Bird ever again.
Another important duty would be to help me get my car started. Currently, El Bicho requires that someone tap on the solenoid with a hammer while simultaneously turning the key in the ignition. My arms don’t stretch that long. So you would have to gently tap the solenoid. Then you’d have to run inside and wash your hands so as not to get grease on El Bicho’s luxury interior. Keep in mind that sometimes the doors don’t work and it’s occasionally necessary to enter and exit the car through the back hatch– plan ahead and dress accordingly.
At all times you must know the location of my cell phone, lip gloss, glasses, coffee mug, water bottle, purse, wallet, emergency stash of Klonopin, notebook, pen, checkbook, hamster, keys, and the little notebook I write all my passwords in. I simply can’t do this all myself. At present, I am only aware of the location of two of those items. Now you are beginning to see why I so desperately need an assistant.
You should write down all the funny things I say. I say a lot of funny things, and then later when I want to tell someone about the funny thing I said to somebody else, I have very often forgotten it, which is frustrating for everyone involved. It would be helpful to keep a notebook with a running account of my bon mots. You should also write down anything I say that happens to be poignant, charming, witty, trenchant, or provocative. Also, all of my puns. That shit is priceless.
You would have to field all my phone calls. Just memorize this phrase: “Ms. Staats’ assistant mailed a check yesterday.” (Note: this will generally be a lie. I hope you’re comfortable with that. If you’re not, you should pretend to be a Buddhist. You get points just for not squishing spiders– at least, that’s what I gleaned from reading the back cover and the first three pages of The Tibetan Book of the Dead.)
You will also have to shield me from information I find upsetting, such as the local news, international news, celebrity news, and my Facebook friend count. Every time that number drops, a little part of me dies. Your job is to make sure that doesn’t happen. When the inevitable occurs and you must share bad news with me, try to have some sort of baked goods on hand. If somebody had broken the news of Madonna and Guy’s break-up to me gently, over a cup of tea and a snickerdoodle, I might still enjoy being a pretend English person, just like Madonna.
This is, of course, a cursory overview of your responsibilities. I won’t go into any of the rest of them because I shouldn’t have to ask. If interested, contact me and we’ll have an interview over lunch. Fair warning: I generally pretend to forget my wallet.
