O.K., honey, can I just ask one thing? I promise—just one thing.
Have you talked to Jim Nestler? Yes, you know who Jim Nestler is! Remember, he did that thing, at the bar mitzvah, with the balloons, and they had to take the clown to the E.R. . . . Yeah, so have you talked to him? He always seems so confident, you know? I wish I was confident like that. When I was in my twenties, I didn’t have someone confident like Jim Nestler to look up to. Maybe if I had, I would’ve gone into opera. Did you know I always wanted to be an opera singer? Well, until I was sixteen. Then I didn’t want to be an opera singer anymore.
What business is Jim in? I don’t know what business he’s in. That’s a funny question to ask.
Well, if you’re not going to talk to Jim, then you should at least check out Facebook. Have you looked on Facebook at all? There are jobs on Facebook. My friend Cynthia says that six out of every seven jobs these days are on Facebook. I don’t know what you’re asking—where on Facebook? You just—You go to facebook.com and you look for, I don’t know, “jobs.”
Actually, have you applied to Facebook? My dentist, Dr. Krauss, said that Facebook is only hiring English majors these days. The computer-science kids, they don’t know how to think. They just know how to write computer whatsit. Code. Computer code. And so they’re only hiring English majors now. Apple, too. But I think they might make an exception for a philosophy major like you, if you make your case confidently.
Oh! Did I tell you? Dr. Krauss was talking to his niece Judith, and Judith is in a lesbian relationship—what? Am I not supposed to call them lesbians? Fine, she’s in a relationship with this lady Dolores, and Dolores works up in Duluth, and she says that everywhere in Duluth is hiring. Architecture firms, banks, the morgue—everywhere.
Yes, I know you have your eye set on Los Angeles. You don’t have to raise your voice like that, honey. What’s wrong with me saying that you should look at Duluth, too? I’m just throwing things out here.
Anyway, you wouldn’t have to be in Duluth to work there, what with online and all.
And what about being a cook? You like cooking so much. I’m reading this Anthony Bourdain book, and that man really liked to cook. And that coat would look so good on you. It’d be flattering to your figure. Have you started running again? You’re looking a little—no, I’m just saying that it helps with fitness. I’m talking about fitness, honey.
And another thing about Dr. Krauss—his sister Lisa Krauss lives in Duluth, too, and Lisa isn’t married yet, but Dr. Krauss says she’s engaged to Elmer Klosterman, who is the estranged half-cousin of Chuck Klosterman. You read his books, right? You could move to Duluth and walk right into Chuck Klosterman’s office and say to him, “I’m a good worker and I get things done.” And you show him your résumé, and he’ll probably give you a job there. I don’t know what job. But he’s famous. Famous people can be nice. Did I ever tell you I went on a date with Meat Loaf? It was in college. He ate three steaks.
I know what you should do! You should send Neil Young an e-mail. He’s such a good musician. And my friend Irene, from work—her daughter goes to Berkeley, and her daughter’s best friend has an older boyfriend, and that boyfriend has a half-sister who did an internship at Neil Young’s record label. You should mention that when you write Neil Young an e-mail. Put it in the first line. Famous people don’t listen if you don’t have a connection.
No, I don’t know Irene’s daughter’s name. Why?
And you know what? I think you should take a month off from doing job applications. You should just sit down on the couch and wait for all those connections—Dr. Krauss, Neil Young, Jim Nestler, Facebook, Meat Loaf, Elmer Klosterman—to pan out. They aren’t going to come through for you if they think you’re applying to other jobs.
All right. I’m glad we had this talk, honey. Just let me know when you talk to Jim Nestler, O.K.?
