Heather Cloud
Staff Writer
To some people, the idea of a stable job, a stable income, a stable life, is appealing. But these people are boring, so what appeals to us, the exciting, the carefree, the non-mediocre, is the adventure of a jobless existence. We, dear friends, shall never be called boring, and will never be found in some paying, dignified, soul-sucking job at a Fortune 500 company with our own private jet. Who wants that? Certainly not us! We’re meant for a life of carpe diem and carpe-free stuff.
Step one: Stay in school
The longer you’re in school, the less time you have to spend out of school with the jet. Plus, the more school you have, the more you’ll seem prepared for a reliable job, and the easier it will be to claim that you’re just too good to be a (fill in the blank). This step is one of the best because you can always get school loans, no family wants to dissuade their son or daughter from getting more education and you can remain financially dependent on your parents while learning how to weave baskets underwater.
Step two: Find yourself
If for some reason you do have to stop going to school, the next best thing is to claim that you need to “find yourself” before you enter into any long-term situation, particularly job-wise. (After all, you’ve been in school for 25 to 30 years straight, and you don’t really learn anything in school, everyone knows that.) This step is great because you will seem really deep, and you get to go to Europe for months, maybe even years, as history has shown that most people are hiding somewhere in Europe.
Step three: Save the trees
When you come home from Europe, you’ll be feeling very “one with the Earth,” mostly because you won’t have showered very much. It is at this point however, when you’ll be willing to shower even less, and you should adopt a renewed passion for saving the earth. Moving into a tree to prevent it from being cut down saves on both rent and utilities, and has the bonus of making you seem straight up awesome for sticking it to the man. This step, while smelly, is great because it can be indefinite depending on the tree, and food is readily available in the form of bark. Just make sure you don’t eat too much and kill the tree. No one likes a tree-killer.
Step four: Join a commune
Living in trees is great, but as Ms. Streisand says “people who need people are the luckiest people in the world.” Plus, bark isn’t fantastic for the teeth, so eventually you’ll want to return to civilization and dentistry. When you do, look for a commune that will provide food, shelter and no jobs. After living in the wild for so long, you’ll truly appreciate the presence of other human beings, and carrots. This step is one of the most important because it is the triumphant return of the shower. It is one of the most dangerous as well, as it could begin to woo you to the working world because you’ll see things that require money to purchase, and after you’ve lived in a tree, a jet can seem pretty nice comparatively. You must be extra careful in this stage, but with a little determination you can and will remain unemployed.
Step five: Move home
And finally, when you move out of the commune because they start calling your turnip-tending “duties,” your turnip-tending “jobs,” (because these things tend to go bad toward the end), you can always return home. Parents are overwhelmingly overjoyed when their children return home. Sure, they may put on a strong face, telling you to get out with your tree-loving, smelly, European, commune self, but they’re really rejoicing at your presence back in their lives. Use this time to work on your screenplay, resume or any other project that will allow you to play lots of spider solitaire playing until your parents stop lovingly asking you to leave or get a job. Once they realize they have the good fortune of your constant presence, all will be well. This stage is the most rewarding because you can have your childhood all over again: coloring, hanging out with your parents, watching cartoons and drinking apple juice out of tippy cups (just because you’re 35 doesn’t mean you won’t spill).
Step six: Good luck
So armed with all of these job combatants, we bid you farewell as you go into the world of blissful unemployment. Good luck!
01-20-2005
