I am to jobs what last week’s featured guest on Jerry Springer was to his 11 wives, 31 children and 2 girlfriends: trouble. My résumé resembles a hobo’s wardrobe–ill-fitting, mismatched and full of holes. I have been a bookstore clerk, an office lackey, director of multimedia development for a software company, a waiter, CEO of an internet startup, a moving estimator, center manager for a tutoring company, a model, project manager for a web development company, (okay–the model thing is a bit of a stretch–I was nine years old and I did an hour of modeling for a math text book–but I got paid $75, which was a fortune to a third-grader and damnit, it made me feel good), a substitute teacher, executive producer of a youth television show, a journalist, regional academic director for a leading test prep company, and a landscaper.
Just as Buford Leroy Jones III earned the devotion of his many chubby trailer tramps, I have seduced many an interviewer into hiring me. While Buford Leroy clearly excelled in charming the extra large panties off his beloveds, I have always been a star employee in my first few months, winning rapid raises, shining reviews, and the respect of my superiors. Inevitably, however, Buford and I remember our real purpose, our one true love. For him, it’s the newness of a fresh-won fanny. For me, it’s writing.
At a certain point, I simply can’t stand not having sufficient time to write and I tender my resignations. I then spend as many weeks or months as I can writing as much as I can before my financial fears catch up to me and I am forced to seek out my next great sugar mama. And yet, as bumpy a ride as it’s been, it’s been a good one–a fulfilling one–and for all the voices that’ve reminded me how foolish the writer’s career is and how silly I am to leave good jobs for total uncertainty (or rather: certain poverty), I simply can’t help myself. In the words of the inimitable Buford “I gots to get my thang on. I just can’ts help myself.
P.S. — No news is no news from the publishing house. I continue to wait eagerly for word, but have given up expecting anything any time soon.