Mom: I still don’t get why I have to instant-message you to talk when I’m sitting right next to your desk.
Me: We call them “social-media-curation stations,” Mom. And nobody talks to each other in the office, so it would be weird.
Mom: But how do you get anything done?
Me: Slacking.
Mom: So then you don’t get anything done? I’m not sure I understand what you do yet.
Me: No, Mom, that’s the name of the chat program we use. Everybody just talks about work in chatrooms online.
Mom: Then what’s the point of having everyone working in the same room?
Me: It’s supposed to foster creativity in an office environment. Can you give me a few minutes of chat silence? I’m trying to compose a tweet for a client.
Mom: Well, I guess it was a little distracting to hear those other parents trying to persuade their daughter to stop crying under her desk.
Mom: Sorry, crustation station.
Mom: I meant curation station.
Mom: How many minutes do you need for a tweet? Aren’t those the short things?
Me: There’s a lot that goes into this, Mom. It’s not just like I’m typing something up and posting it on the Internet. I’m a professional, and I put a lot of care into my work.
Mom: But you’re just typing and deleting things like #ITSSOFLUFFY over a picture of an otter.
Me: This is what I do, Mom! Did Picasso’s mother tell him all that blue was too depressing? Did Gay Talese’s mom nag him about calling Sinatra for an interview? Did Kris Jenner tell Kim Kardashian that no one would pay real money to buy fake clothes in her app? No, they were supportive of the creative process.
Me: Anyway, it’s for a fabric-softener company. It makes perfect sense.
Mom: When you said you were a brand curator, I thought there would be a little more art.
Me: Thanks, Mom. Thanks a lot.
Mom: I’m sorry, sweetie. You’re right, I’m sure the fabric-softener company will love your chirp for them.
Mom: Are you taking a lunch break soon?
Me: In an hour, maybe. If you’re hungry, you can grab that tube above my screen. It’s the Soylhose—it delivers Soylent right to your station. The C.F.O. thought that the company was losing too many man hours to the Chop’t line, so she installed them last month.
Mom: Oh, that’s O.K. I’ll wait.
Mom: Are you updating your résumé right now, here in the office?
Me: I have a few minutes of downtime. Can you proofread it for me after?
Mom: I think doing that in the office sends the wrong message to your boss.
Me: But everyone works on their personal brands during office hours—it’s totally normal. I swear, Chrissy just got that letter saying that her French bulldog is an emotional-support animal so she can Instagram from work. Those puppy photos automatically get a million “likes,” that bitch.
Mom: Isn’t your best friend at work also named Chrissy?
Me: Yeah, that’s her.
Mom: Oh.
Me: B.R.B., I have to go to a meeting.
Mom: But you’re staying at your desk station.
Me: Oh, it’s in a chatroom, but I need to focus.
Mom: You have a hundred Internet tabs open, and you’re watching a penguin movie.
Me: Nature documentaries help me to concentrate. If you want to be helpful, you can find me some Beyoncé GIFs. I need to work on a viral campaign for paper towels after this. Thanks.
