I Will Be a Corporate Whore Forever. Learn It. Live It.

This blog has led people to approach me about various business endeavors, a fact which has become steadily less exciting.

The first time a literary agent e-mailed me, I threw my hands in the air, yelled repeatedly “I am the champion,” grabbed a bottle of vodka from the top of Re-Boyfriend's refrigerator and took a triumphant swig.

Later I discovered that the agent was only interested in meeting with me if I had a fully formed novel to show her. Apparently, I should have been keeping one stashed under my bed, just in case. Unfortunately for me, I had been too busy getting drunk and bitching about my job to write The Great American Novel, or even, as would be more likely, a crappy piece of chick-lit.

The next time a literary agent e-mailed me I was prepared. “I do not have a book at this time, but I am in the process of writing one. I’ll be sure to e-mail you when I have something for you to look at.” I gave myself a time frame of a month. That was April. Do you know how many words are in a novel? A lot.

Then television/film people started e-mailing me, asking if we could “chat”.

Excerpt from a “chat”:

“I’m thinking you have a really great voice. I mean, it just speaks to so many people.”

“Thanks.” Pause. “So, you would want me to write a script?”

“I think your blog could translate really well to the small or big screen.”

“So you want me to write a script.”

“I have a lot of connections out here and I think I could help you.”

“So you want to be my agent.”

“I’m not an agent, but I could find you one.”

When I would finally ask, very directly, what exactly they did want from me, the person would reiterate that they only wanted to help. Then they would tell me to seriously think about whether or not I wanted to get involved in “The Industry”. When I Googled their names and found nothing related to The Industry, I had to believe that 1) I was their very first project or 2) They were attempting to take advantage of me in some way that I can’t even understand because I know nothing about The Industry. Then I would stop returning their calls.

Though useless in and of themselves, I viewed these incidents as positive indicators of things yet to come. I would finish (read: start) my book, and/or figure out what the hell those producer people wanted. I started to view my office job as temporary, something that would eventually be replaced by an at-home/coffee shop/going out job, one that mostly involved me toting around my Apple laptop and drinking.

Then came another call from producer people. And these people actually made sense. They possessed the ability to speak clearly, and they used it to tell me both what I needed to do and what they were going to do. Plus, when I Googled them, actual television/film projects showed up under their names, a basic criterion for trustworthiness that, before them, had never been filled.

Obviously I was going to be Carrie Bradshaw very, very soon but with less shoes because I’m not a shoe girl and no Aidan because I never really liked Aidan, and a much smaller apartment. And hopefully not very much like Carrie at all except for the whole writing and having fun thing, because she kind of annoyed me and Miranda was my favorite anyway.

Bringing me out of my Sex and the City reverie were the words of one of the producers: “And of course, the really great thing is that you can keep your job now and do this, it’s not like you’d have to leave it.”

I almost laughed at the way she said this, as if keeping my job were a positive thing. But then her comment sank in and I finally realized that no one was offering me anything that would amount to a new job. Even if I did have the next crappy chick-lit book, or became involved in The Industry, it would only be a way to make a few bucks on the side. While this is not anything that I would say no to, it is also not exactly living the dream. I hung up thinking I had better reinvent the dream, or replace it with a more realistic one, like being an instant millionaire from internet stock trades.

So now I’m going to drop in to my boss’ office, just to see how his meeting went yesterday. I have to start sucking up since it appears I will be here much longer than anticipated.

P.S. My new apartment is fucking gorgeous.