Today I spent 3 hours searching for a job online. Today I spent 3 hours convincing myself I lack any skills to survive in the real world. Today I spent 3 hours wondering where my life went wrong.
For one, I can’t even be a babysitter. I went to New York fucking University and no one will even let me near their children. Apparently, if I had wanted to be a professional babysitter, I should have gone into early childhood education. As an acting student, I can’t even get a job playing with a fucking baby because they apparently need to be supervised by someone with a master’s degree. Dear Upper East Side family, do you really think someone with a master’s degree in child psychology wants to use their degree to cook chicken fingers for your children? What could I possibly not know that would make someone a better candidate to walk your children home from school and carry their $200 backpack? I know all of the songs in “Beauty and the Beast” and “The Aristocats!” That should be enough!
The cliché of being an actress/waitress is even impossible. Every New York restaurant wants someone with 3 years experience in fine dining. I get it. New York restaurants are craaaazy! I won’t be able to handle the stress! Tourists must have the finest dining experience in the wooooorld! WELCOME TO HELL! Whatever. Let’s be real here. I am have been studying for the past 4 years to essentially trick you into thinking whatever I want you to think. I will laugh heartily at your puns, old rich man. I will feign deep shame and sadness when you tell me your steak is undercooked, crotchety tiny lady. I will smile sweetly to you, evil mother, as your children rub feces onto the menus (I don't think this actually happens at restaurants, but I have a feeling if I was a waitress somehow it would happen to me). Experience Shmashmerience. Just let me fucking carry plates to a table.
I tossed around the thought of doing another unpaid internship and then tossed around the thought of throwing myself onto the subway tracks. One ad dared suggest duties would include: “copy editing, statistical analysis, and retrieiving Americanos.” HAHAHAHA Hilarious! I’m sure you sat at your fancy pants desk laughing smugly to yourself with that one. When you said “Writing Intern” in the job title, you really should have just told the truth and written “Personal slave.” I am 100% certain no actual writing will occur at that job unless it is writing down a lunch order to pick up at Le Pain Quotidien.
In conclusion, please help me find a job. I will be accepting all offers. Please note, I can’t draw a straight line or do a cartwheel, but I am willing to learn. Special skills include singing with my mouth closed and fantastic Katherine McPhee and Liza Minnelli impressions. I’m sure these are in high demand so please spread the word.