A Ditz Who Reads Joan Didion
That's me!
Every time I start a new job I worry about coming off as a dumb blonde. I show up to work looking how I look with some plucky wide-eyed enthusiasm1 and fear I appear unserious and just totally clueless.2 This especially goes for male dominated spaces. After those first few days I’ll spend the rest of my time trying to prove just how capable I am.
Fun fact about me: I adore Marilyn Monroe. And not casually either! She was my favorite actress by second grade, and I cherish my Gentlemen Prefer Blondes Barbie of her to this day.3 She’s the most iconic of our kind.4 Still, I don’t want to feel like one of her characters at work.
I have no idea what my coworkers actually assume about me. It’s more than likely they don’t pay me much attention. But when I show up on a set that’s found its groove months ago full of academic experience but little practical knowledge: the problem isn’t whether people think I’m a ditz. It’s that I feel like one.
Now if you’re opinion of me is fragile in any way, I beg you, do not read on. Avert your eyes, now! I’ve revealed too much insecurity already. Look away! Before it’s too late! For, what I am about to reveal, is… Gasp! Dare I even admit it? It’s…………. another flaw.
For those of you who are still here, the unfortunate truth is that I’ve felt unsure of myself of late. I’ve written at length about these uncertain times. I’m uncertain of my job, my future, my finances, but it sucks most to feel uncertain of myself. It’s something I take no pleasure in admitting. In fact, I’ve labored over how to write about it, because admitting to a lack of confidence is embarrassing. It’s not the face I want to present to the world. The clueless, nervous, uncertain girl I’ve felt like lately is not who I want to be or who I know at my core I am.
But ignoring her doesn’t feel right either.
So here I am, admitting to this imperfection in the hope that:
Writing it here will help me squash it.
Being honest about my feelings will feel better than pretending.
This entry will remind me that it’s all okay.
But back to work! Any new job might make me feel uncertain, but my first day as a PA last week was a little extra painful. In the logical part of my brain, I know how to get coffee, tell people to be quiet, and listen to an ear piece. But a voice kept needling: “Are you sure?”
“Are you sure you heard them right? What was that person’s name again? Shouldn’t you be doing more? Do they not trust you with those tasks? What was that person’s name again? Are you supposed to be standing there? Which direction did they point?” And on and on and on.
It only compounded my stress over making a great first impression.
After a solid first day free from major embarrassment, I survived a slightly busier second day with minimal mistakes. I met some great people and was given the best advice any PA could ask for: “Most of the time people will ignore you until they need something and then whether it’s hour two or ten it’s on you to make it happen immediately. Take nothing personally.”
Still, I questioned my decisions and felt as clueless as I ever.
By the end of the day, I was tired - over tired - but also hyped up on the promise of the coming weekend and an Earl Grey tea. When I got in the van back to Manhattan at 11 pm I found a bizarre second wind (as did most of the crew) so the car was full of lively conversation. While recounting to my friend some books I’d recently bought, I told I’d just started Slouching Towards Bethlehem that morning. This friend had never read Didion and I told her she really should! I told her about my bad timing of starting Play It As It Lays the day Roe v. Wade was overturned and my theories about our gal Joan being conservative despite the popular memory associating her with feminism of the 70s and—
Somewhere during that conversation the van had gotten very quiet. Suddenly I remembered who I was sitting next to: Two guys from the electrics department embodying the very essence of no-nonsense masculinity. The exact kind of people on any set I fear most will see me as frivolous.
I may never know what my seat mates thought of my author analysis, but thankfully, in that moment I found it in me not to care.
At least I’d shown another dimension!
First days are hard. They might always be for me. I worry people will make assumptions based on my body, see my shyness as cold, or my enthusiasm as naïveté, but there’s little I can do to change those hypotheticals. Even today I found myself laughing at a mean joke at the lunch table like I was back in middle school, desperate to fit in. I immediately regretted acting on my insecurity, because I know I’m better than that. I am better than I’ve been allowing myself to be.
PAing professionally for the first time, I do have things to learn. But each day I’m allowed to try, I get better. Each moment I remind myself how capable and intelligent I am, it gets easier. And when my mind does waiver and wonder what others are thinking, I remind myself of a few essential truths:
Most of the time you think people are thinking about you, they’re thinking about themselves.
My worth is not defined by my failure to get someone napkins. 5
I’m sure as hell not dyeing my hair.
My First-Week-of-Work Thank You Speech
“WOW! It’s so great to be here. Thank you to substack publications for awarding me this forum to post my thoughts roughly every other week. It’s all too much! *sniffles.* There are so many people to thank - where can I start? *pulls crumpled acceptance speech out of bra.* First, I’d like to thank the woman who cut my hair in LA and gave me both the layers and length I wanted for summer - your work continues to bring me much-needed confidence boosts during hard times. Thank you to the production assistant who took me under her wing on my first day of work and to everyone who gave me directions when I was lost (literally and figuratively). Thank you to my parents for housing me and dealing with my incessant updates about work and networking. Thank you to all the cast and crew members who were kind enough to say hello, compliment my jacket, and make me feel welcome. A huge thank you to the catering guy who gave me the perfect-sized box to fit my fifteen-person coffee order. And a million thanks to the assistant who held the elevator door open for me as I carried said coffee order.
Finally, my deepest thanks to the girl who helped me get this job and listened to my Didion dissertation with open ears. I couldn’t have opened this first door without you. You’re an incredible co-worker and even better friend.”
Outfit of This Era:
Recommendations for This Era:
Gentlemen Prefer Blondes! One of, if not the best dumb blonde Marilyn characters. If you plan to watch Blonde but haven’t seen more than 10% of Marilyn’s filmography, I’m sorry we can’t be friends.
Clueless.
Dracula! Yes, Bram Stoker’s Dracula!
Wearing one statement piece on your first day of work. It’s a good conversation starter.
“For All We Know” by Carpenters. I just know you all aren’t listening to enough of the Carpenters.
Essential Oils. They can’t hurt, right?
“Dumb Blonde” by Dolly Parton.
Joan Didion. I kind of have to include her even though I’m only ten pages into Slouching Towards Bethlehem.
One More Thing Just for Fun:
This is not literal. I’ve always thought my eyes are rather small, but maybe with eyeliner they do look wide after all.
Cher Horowitz said it best.
In the red dress, not the pink.
Blondes.
In truth, I did not fail. The napkins were just delayed.