My sister had a party for her kids, my niece and nephew. My husband, my son and I went to Pennsylvania, where she lives for the occasion. Some parents came and dropped off their kids. Some stayed. At one point I was introduced to a husband of my sister’s friend. He said, nice to meet you. What do you do?
Hearing him say that was expected, but at that moment, I just wanted to scream. What do I do? What the fuck does it matter to you what I do? What I do does not define who I am! Why is that the starting point of every boring conversation on Earth? Why don’t you ask me how I feel? I did not say that. I said, “I am a jewelry designer,” smiled and made an excuse to leave. I did not talk to any adults that day, for the fear that they will ask me what I do.
What do you do? Next time, someone asks me that I will say I am Jehovah’s witness. The next sentence will be, did you know that Christ is our savior? You want to be boring?
There was a sign on a chalkboard out side of a bar in Bushwick. It said, What? You want to be boring? Not in this bar. I wonder if anyone there asks anyone what they do?
When I worked on Wall Street, that question, what do you do, used to hurt me more. I guess I am getting closer to my core. I hated saying, I am an analyst, not because of boredom. The answer to me was like saying, I enter a torture chamber everyday from 8:30am -7pm, and you?
My Boss Janet, gave her life to becoming a big powerful boss. She only said few things to me during my two and a half years there. There is no free lunch, was one. Her husband was a big real estate guy. When they went to parties, she found herself surrounded by his colleagues and their wives. Their wives had no jobs, other than shopping and charity work. Janet said, Could you believe it? None of the men ever ask me what I do.
10:07 (10 minutes baby)