Perhaps because I myself am unemployed, Work in its true sense gives me a hard-on. Celebrities’ work, friends’ work, sister’s work, looking for work, finding work, choosing work – any hustle is of major interest. (Side note: is it a coincidence that I seem to no longer “have the time” for socialising with fellow non-working mothers? I would discuss but I don’t want to.) J’adore watching my close friends, who are younger, go through career-related dilemmas and challenges. I love talking to them about it, seeing them strategize, watching them come to decisions. This is my porn.
An example. My very good friend, a very hard-working, assiduous friend, is at an unexpected crossroads. He had spent over a year in a sh-tty, degrading internships cycle before securing an entrance-level position at a prestigious art house with an impressive-ass brand name. Let’s call it PArt. The job itself is basic – answering calls, serving clients, looking cute, which he does – but the growth opportunities and the prestige of the name are there. How soon that growth will start happening though – no way of knowing. (As far as I understand, one has to spend at least a few months in each position before climbing a small step higher.) It will not be less than a few actual years.
Because my friend is so dope, he also has a weekend job in a lovely gallery space, obviously a much smaller deal in terms of actual size and name recognition. I’m going to call it ArtG. (Not entirely related: I had watched my friend go from unemployed to securing two jobs nearly at the same time and it was the most beautiful thing.) The full-time position of this gallery’s manager has very suddenly become available and, yes, because he is SO DOPE, my friend has been immediately offered it. I mean, should he accept, he will for real be running an actual gallery. Whaaaaaattt?
You know, when you are an intern and desperate and hungry, all you think about is getting hired. Then you do and you breathe out and, sure, you hopefully continue to want more and not feel too comfortable, but you have the luxury of time to make your next move. Unless bam, a choice comes your way, and it’s sudden and unexpected and you lose sleep and it starts to feel like a bad dream, instead of a good one, because it’s, you know, YOUR LIFE and DECISIONS and PRESSURE.
So, obviously, you go to your closest ones for potentially helpful advice, hoping that their opinion would be unanimous but that's just unrealistic expectations. Also, in this case, one of the friends/advisors is me and what the f-ck do I know? Truly, turns out, nothing. Out of everyone questioned, I was the only one who would have chosen to remain at the “Client Services” at PArt. I hadn’t considered the enrichment and knowledge that RUNNING AN ENTIRE GALLERY would afford, hadn’t thought about what all this experience would look like on his resume and future prospects, I straight-up no-shame whored myself out for the big brand name. (In my defence, literally everybody in the first world would have heard of this name. Still no good? OK.)
I personally have no more than two friends – clear pros of antisocialism – but I sure am glad those friends have got more than I do. Imagine being stuck with my giving out the most superficial advice. Unlucky.
That said, what would YOU do? PArt or ArtG? Asking for a friend.