Unemployment Object Memoirs: A Tribute to Chapstick

I decided to start writing thank you notes to the various objects that are helping me get through unemployment. This edition is dedicated to Chapstick.

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Dear Chapstick,

It’s November 18, 2010, which means my little brother turned 22 today. After the sad realization that he is more successful than I will ever be, I decided to stop pretending to be productive, and straight out waste time. So I decided to write a letter to you, and how you, my dear Chapstick, have helped me through this bout of plague I hatefully call unemployment.

 

Thanksgiving is coming up, which means it’s time to count one’s blessings and summarily stuff your face with genetically modified food. I am thankful for many things – some sappy, like good family and friends – and some far more important, like chocolate pie and Zappos.com. I thought about writing this letter to computer, but then realized that computer will see this as I am typing (such a waste if the surprise is spoiled). Plus, while computer keeps me connected to the places I can never afford to go to, it is also an infinite source of stress and rejection. I mean seriously computer, can’t you just fucking lie and tell me I got the job? When did you become so complacent!?

You, Chapstick, on the other hand, serve one and only thing: me. And what is more important than me? Oh, right, everything.

Anyway, Chapstick, this summer was brutal. I can’t tell you how many days were so hot, I woke up, peed, grabbed a stick of deodorant, and stayed next to air conditioner all day long. (Actually, it was like 9 days.) 

But even if the island of Manhattan combusted into flames half of those unemployed summer days, I need to look decent, and according to a Chinese proverb I made up, decency starts with moisturized lips. So Chapstick, even when the days seemingly mashed together, thank you for sticking by my side, for melting on my lips, and not in my hand. I may walk the streets of New York with a bleeding heart, but at least I avoid bleeding lips.

Chapstick, you’ve known me many years. The lies that originate from my mouth, the endless conversation about how Fox News is destroying America, the copious amounts of Diet Coke and chocolate I eat every day. But what you may not know is that unemployment makes conversation awkward. I have spent the better part of 24 years trying to convince the world of how fucking brilliant I am (I sort of gave up from ages 14-16). Now, Chapstick, I am faced with the embarrassing reality that I am barely able to afford to buy a new tube of you every month. Do you know how awkward conversation gets when someone SOO much dumber than me, yet employed, asks me a question about my professional life? 

 

These questions are successfully evaded though, thanks to you, Chapstick. For six months now, you have come to my rescue, applying a fine coat of chemical-filled wax to my lips, which gives me enough time to stall, find an excuse to leave, and avoid answering the question altogether.

In conclusion, Chapstick, I just want to offer my sincere gratitude for your existence. I may be permanently addicted to you and come down with lip cancer or whatever, but you have satisfied so many of my needs in this spell of unemployment. 

In the future, I hope to work with you more closely. For instance, should I ever get another interview, I will make sure to sail above the pack with you by my side. Mostly because I plan on using you to grease the walkway so my competitors slip, fall, and “decide to pursue other options.”

With love,

Mala