Suzy Says

I recently took one of those tests that are supposed to explain the complicated many-splendored thing that is one’s personality. The test decided that I am, or should be, a millionaire.

I heartily concur with this diagnosis, though it has no basis in reality. We consistently fail to win the lottery and live in one of the most expensive states in the Union, a place where you can make $100,000 a year and still be barely scraping by, with the result that we are not in fact millionaires, even if our neighbors are.

I have mentioned before that I got in trouble at my very first Career Day ay school for writing down “idle rich” as my career of choice, the powers that be immediately assuming that this was the worst kind of mockery, when in fact, it was the simple truth. Isn’t it touching to think that my 12 year old self not only considered that goal a possibility, but also didn’t realize that such notions should not be brought to the attention of those in authority? I wonder if that’s where I really started disliking school.

Years later, I still have to stand by that original goal. I have no particular talents, or at least none that are particularly well remunerated or useful. The ones I do have are chiefly and surprisingly domestic for a post-modern girl. It used to bother me, since all of my friends had goals and dreams, most of which they have achieved, but not anymore.

If I had to come up with actual jobs I could do, I could only come up with two. One in the realm of possibility:

Personal shopper. One of my few talents is finding the perfect present and card for anyone, for any occasion. Imagine how cool it would be to be paid to go shopping all day. Making money by spending someone else’s!

And the other in the realm of impossibility:

King’s mistress. Not, I hasten to add, the Queen, who is required to produce a string of heirs and attend boring ceremonial functions. Nope. I’d rather be the amusing and charming power behind the throne. Along the lines of Madame de Maintenon, mistress of Louis XIV (the Sun King, who built Versailles), or Madame de Pompadour, ditto but for Louis XV, both of whom had a salon of writers, poets, and artists and were patrons of the arts, style setters, and had lots of impressive jewelry (which was theirs, and not the Nation’s, unlike the Queen’s. Isn’t the Queen job looking less desirable by the second?). Again, spending someone else’s money, but this time you get to keep the stuff. Of course, if you’re unlucky in your choice of King or political climate, you could lose your head (like Madame du Barry), or be replaced by the next cute thing, though that is a problem not restricted to royalty.

Maybe the best job is no job. Happpy Labor Day!