a list of 20 very specific things I miss while the pandemic rages on.

• handing my reusable mug to a local coffee shop barista while eyeing the baked goods case, curious if a scone or a coffee cake screams “main character” more while I pretend to work on my laptop
• stepping on a stale, forgotten piece of popcorn because I was half watching previews while finding my seat in the movie theater

bonus: wondering if the mason jar of wine I snuck in and hear sloshing in my purse has spilled by the time I’m seated

• the first moment of taking my coat off in a holiday-decorated bar, seeing my friends already settled in and waving me over, my mind on the holiday drink list, curious about its bourbon offerings
• traveling solo and spending a long layover befriending a bartender while half reading my book and feeling genuinely limitless and adult, if only for a fleeting moment in a place where time seems to stand still
• sitting in a restaurant booth with a small child on the other side that insists on peering over, giggling and waving while I keep an eye on their hands, knowing they’re just as sticky as the plastic menu on the table
• working up the nerve to get out of my car and walk into the gym in the middle of winter and, after doing so, feeling invigorated by the cold
• wandering around a bookstore near closing hours, the world outside dark and making the shelves all the more inviting, picking out one then two then eight… full of the giddiness a child feels holding a new toy
• the smells and sights of riding in the back of a taxi after landing in a new country, foreign radio blurring in the background, the A/C too hot or too cold or too nonexistent, trying to capture every street corner to memory
• kissing in the midst of a dancing crowd, a few drinks in but not enough for this level of pda in a concert venue–not enough to feel totally ok about blocking the band for those behind us for long, but enough for one more kiss… right?
• using up all my late night anxiety by baking unasked-for treats for friends and coworkers, excited to start the following day with joy and a calorically-concerning surprise, instead of more dread, loneliness, and frankly… the worry of germs
• visiting my friends at their jobs, seeing them in their element–weaving their way through this world in the only way they know how, while i bask in their brilliance before I’m caught looking
• eavesdropping from our two-top on first dates, blind dates, college-move-in lunches with mom, hiring meetings, break ups, announcements, celebrations, and mourning–feeling pieces of human existence that don’t belong to me and will never belong to me floating through the restaurant
• walking into a crowded cafe recommended by an important person I’m meeting for the first time, searching for them on their own turf, knowing it’s time to turn it on–my confidence and intelligence overflowing (I hope), my double checked teeth with nothing in them
• the lost-in-the-sauce, can’t-focus-on-anything-else moments of being in museums, surrounded only by whispers and mastery of things unknown to my hands but eaten with haste by my eyes
• tying my nieces and nephews shoe laces together at magnificently large family gatherings as they giggle endlessly watching me do it … just as my older cousins did to me, so it shall be done to them
• the clicking of my heels alone in a hallway right before entering a large event that I’m purposefully late to for dramatics, knowing the crowd within has not seen me looking this powerful and steady in myself for some time, my confidence and posture with every echoing click
• planning things needlessly in advance, filling the heads of my eventual companions with details upon details they’re sure to forget before the event or trip occurs, but that I will remind them of, eyes rolling, when it comes time for us to pass the thing, eat at the place, or meet the person
• losing myself in my entirety to the dim lights of a theatre watching a musical or play and allowing my body to float for hours in that moment, battered from every side with talent and left begging for more
• sharing a small glance with a coworker turned friend and accomplice as our mutual enemy in a meeting dares cross our invisible, unspoken lines of righteousness
• embarrassing my loved ones by being too loud, too fun, too me for them when we go out in public as a group, their groans only reassuring me that I am, in fact, the best of us and that this life is, in fact, mine

In the last 5 years or so it’s become increasingly common for creative industries, specifically advertising, to include some derivative of the following in the Requirements or Nice to Have section of job postings:

• “Someone who brings their side hustles & passion projects to life daily”
• “An objectively cool person”
• “A creator who can’t stop creating”

And I get it. I’d want to hire the coolest kids on the block, too. The trendy, the outrageous, the “I was a child-star but you’d never know because I’m so down to earth,” and the “I stay up all night knitting adorable birdhouses for my neighborhood.” They’re quirky. They’re fun. They’re insightful.

Believe me, I get it.

But when you’re hiring in the range of entry- to mid-level you have to take into consideration that sometimes we’re still just trying to get ourselves off the ground. And adding a “side hustle” requirement feels like yet another “we want 2 to 4 years of experience for an entry-level job.”

Maybe it’s not time for someone to start a side hustle just yet. Maybe it’s too expensive. Maybe (just maybe!) our passion right now lies in the very industry you’re hiring us for and that’s our side hustle. Maybe a million things.

I can’t speak for everyone, so I’ll speak for myself.

Here are 3 reasons you won’t see me with a side hustle anytime soon:

1. Because my side hustle is keeping my shit together.

I, like many in this industry, suffer from mental illness.

My delightful cocktail includes depression and anxiety, among others. This is fun on its own, of course, but in combination with my full-time job it’s a beast. A beast I need to care for in my free time. A beast that requires vegetables chopped slowly for dinner and a 2.5 mile walk to and from work. A beast I have learned to love, but who is not super enthused about me taking on additional projects right now.

Mental illness after-hours can present itself in many ways. And can be “treated” in many more. For some, channeling it into the aforementioned birdhouses works (kudos to you). For others (read: me), it is translated into exercising and sitting away from screens for a few hours, so that their best work can be done when they return to those screens. Both are valid.

I do the work on my mental illness at home, so I can come into the office and do what you pay me to do, and do well, every day.

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2. Because I made my side hustle into my actual job, and I’m not mad about it.

In college, I stumbled my way into this industry. And by that I mean I was doing it before I knew I was doing it. I was working on logos for family friends, drawing up brochures for local businesses, running social media for three to four accounts at a time. For fun.

Advertising was my hobby and my side hustle far before I was getting paid to do it. So when I lucked into my first internships and got paid for doing what I was already doing and loving? Dream come true: someone time-boxed my side-hustle for me from 9 to 5(ya know, kinda lol) and gave me a salary for it(ya know, kinda lol). And I’ve been a happy camper every since(ya know- you get it).

Why isn’t that enough?

3. And finally… Have you met this industry?

No really, have you? Here’s a quick look:

35% of advertisers are worried about their mental health at work. (I’d venture to say this is low)

Burnout is a constant concern. And instead of agencies fixing it and retaining their talent, they let us cycle in, burn out, and leave, just to be followed by a new group of talent coming in.

65–80 hour work weeks are not uncommon. Often, “for the sake of the craft.” Often, because we won’t push back on clients because that might affect the bottom-line.

If I tacked on additional passion projects right now, I would lose the already-limited ability I have to tread water. I would also, more obviously, run out of time. And if I did not put my mental health as priority #1 because others won’t, I can tell you that I’d have no hustles whatsoever… let alone a side one.

In conclusion, my friends:

When you request ambiguous things like being “cool” in your job requirements, you devalue the good work the candidate might be doing in the sector you’re hiring for.

When you request additional “side hustles” and “passion projects” outside of the job, you undervalue the creative talent(and effort/time) it takes to deliver for your clients. And, more importantly, you completely disregard the level of burnout and mental illness that is overtaking creative industries.

The pressure to do everything and be everything — including whatever cool is, is dysfunctional and affects how agencies hire, and eventually retain, talent. (Not to mention that using “cool,” “awesome,” etc. as traits often only supports white stereotypes and tropes of those things. But that is an essay for another day.)

If you want to find out how much your company ~vibes~ with a candidate: read their portfolio, read their cover letter, interview them, have other people interview them. Hard work is not a face-value trait. Good work is not defined by how cool you are.

and just for fun, here are my rebuttals to the side-hustlin’, passion-project-needing job requirements, in order:

“Someone who brings their side hustles & passion projects to life daily”

Of course! Here’s my portfolio of work I do for my job that I’m passionate about. Daily.

“An objectively cool person”

What does this even mean?? What quantitative data are we working with here? I wear a “D.A.R.E. to keep kids off drugs” fanny pack ironically. Is that objectively or subjectively cool? Help??

“A creator who can’t stop creating”

I have a dog to walk. May I? Please?

much love,

b

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