So, what do you do?
Pain Spectrum – red. Yuck. Red seems to be the new green. It's not a heavy red, but still. Rather discouraging. Piffle.
BM/RD Index – 14
Fuzz meter – 6
My K has to go to a cocktail party next week, and I really need (and want) to go with him. Unfortunately, it has been a while since I have gone to an event where I know no one. I’m rusty at the basics. The opening salvo, “What do you do?” will be enough to trip me up. I know this, ‘cause I fobbed the question just last week. In my own home. Where I should be comfortable in saying what I do or do not do. Cue panic!
There are so many ways to answer this question, and none of them seem right. I could rest on past glories (“I used to be in banking”) and hope that my cane will spell out more eloquently than words could as to why I left. I could go with monosyllabic truthfulness (“I write”) and hope no one actually asks if I am successful in this endeavor. (“Er, define success. Making money? Um. No. Not successful then.”) I could, as my mother suggested, spin, (“Well I have a master’s in economics [“say from LSE!” I can hear her prompting] but I’m lucky. My husband supports me and lets me do what I want!”) and not really answer the question at all, while simultaneously showing whomever I am speaking to that my husband, while a saint, is married to a bitch. Or I could just go with the brutalist approach (“I’m ill. I don’t do anything”) and spend the next minute in uncomfortable silence as the questioner tries desperately to slip away. And even if I do somehow survive the “Whatcha do for a living?” question, there is always the “So, what’s the cane for?” minefield that often follows. And people, please, do not even get me started on the “What the fuck am I going to wear?” question. Seriously.
Hmmm. I am beginning to remember why I became a recluse.
BM/RD Index – 14
Fuzz meter – 6
My K has to go to a cocktail party next week, and I really need (and want) to go with him. Unfortunately, it has been a while since I have gone to an event where I know no one. I’m rusty at the basics. The opening salvo, “What do you do?” will be enough to trip me up. I know this, ‘cause I fobbed the question just last week. In my own home. Where I should be comfortable in saying what I do or do not do. Cue panic!
There are so many ways to answer this question, and none of them seem right. I could rest on past glories (“I used to be in banking”) and hope that my cane will spell out more eloquently than words could as to why I left. I could go with monosyllabic truthfulness (“I write”) and hope no one actually asks if I am successful in this endeavor. (“Er, define success. Making money? Um. No. Not successful then.”) I could, as my mother suggested, spin, (“Well I have a master’s in economics [“say from LSE!” I can hear her prompting] but I’m lucky. My husband supports me and lets me do what I want!”) and not really answer the question at all, while simultaneously showing whomever I am speaking to that my husband, while a saint, is married to a bitch. Or I could just go with the brutalist approach (“I’m ill. I don’t do anything”) and spend the next minute in uncomfortable silence as the questioner tries desperately to slip away. And even if I do somehow survive the “Whatcha do for a living?” question, there is always the “So, what’s the cane for?” minefield that often follows. And people, please, do not even get me started on the “What the fuck am I going to wear?” question. Seriously.
Hmmm. I am beginning to remember why I became a recluse.
posted by KS at 9:16 AM
5 Comments:
Hmmmm, quite a quandry. For starters, you could say, "depends on the day. On good days I am a budding author. On bad days I can't get out of bed. I had Lyme as a kid and it wasn't diagnosed."
That gives your conversation partner a choice on what they want to follow up with. It also sets expectations as to your career.
As i have known you for so many years and taking into account your varied experiences, i would not worry. You are one of the most sincere and eloquent people I have had the fortune to know and I cannot imagine a cirumstance that would not allow that fact to shine through. But then again i usually work these types of events, and generally hold in disdain most of the people who are standing around trying to impress one another. So unless it is the annual cocktail party for Nobel prize winners and former heads of state, I say GO! and enjoy the cocktails!
why not say "i really can't say" with a sparkle in your eye and follow up with "what do you do?" or "i really like that dress" (fill in as needed) so the person isn't left dangling. makes you seem mysterious in a valerie plamme (sp?) sort of way...
yeah, and throw in "you know i was in kyiv shortly before the orange revolution. that's where k and i met." wave your cane around a bit and you'll have everyone hook line and sinker!
Being new on the job, that question has come up quite often for me lately. Just the other day, I was chatting with a young engineer just before our new hire orientation. I asked, "So, what do you do?" And she very confidently said, "I am in hips product development."
You see we work for an othopaedics company, and hip implants have the highest profit margin. So, the engineer was clearly feeling the importance of her role in the organization. She proceeded to inquire about my responsibilities, and I responded, "I just count widgets and stuff."
Then, I smiled, and she rolled her eyes and looked around for someone else to talk to. Later, during a round of orientation introductions, I announced that I was a supply chain manager, just graduated from MIT. The VP of HR ooh and ahhed and talked about how bright my future was. I smiled, the same smile I had given the self-absorbed product development engineer. By the way, the VP had nothing to say about her PD role or her future with the company.
I tell this story just to convey that the answer to the question about what you do perhaps has less to do with what you do and more to do with to whom you're talking. You see, I had no reason to grandstand for the engineer, but I made sure the HR vice president would remember me and my contribution to the organization.
My suggestion: have fun answering the question. Let the answer be as fluid as reality often is.
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