“When the workin’ day is done, oh girls, they wanna have fun. Oh girls just wanna have fun." — Cyndi Lauper

Aside from the questions, “What do you mean you don’t like sweet potato fries?” and “How could you not like sweet potato fries?” I hate being asked, “So, what do you do?”

I'm going to make an educated guess that most writers and authors also hate this question, especially if they suffer from imposter syndrome, which I wrote about here.

I hate being asked this because it’s…complicated.

Not the questions about me not liking sweet potato fries. I don’t like the taste — it's that simple. But I have learned never to say, “I don’t like sweet potato fries!” to anyone.

People have very strong opinions about sweet potato fries. Whenever I have uttered, “I don’t like sweet potato fries,” usually after others ask me if I want to share an order, they look totally surprised, and also really offended, which makes me feel like I need to apologize for disliking sweet potato fries.

I’ve learned it's just easier to agree with sweet potato fries advocates and say, "Of course I love sweet potato fries! Who doesn't?" than to be lectured about how yummy sweet potato fries are.

As for the question, "So what do you do?” We hear this question a lot…and we ask this question a lot. But for real — does anyone really like being asked this?

I’ve been a pilot. I’ve been a piano tuner. I’ve been a crossing guard. I’ve been a scuba diving instructor. I’ve been a dog walker. And sometimes I'm a writer.

I've been all of the above depending on who asked the question, where we are, and how many shots of tequila I’ve just poured down my throat.

I admit it. I often lie to people who ask me, “So, what do you do?”

Why? Well, first, it's fun (for me.)

Second, whenever I respond, “I’m a writer,” 99.9% of the time, there are many follow-up questions.

Come to think of it, aside from dating a writer once (which I’d never do again. Read why here!), my most serious relationships have usually been with lawyers or men who work on Bay Street — men who get a much different reaction to the question, “So, what do you do?”

One of the funniest moments of my life happened when I invited a guy I was dating years ago to come to my parents’ for dinner. I’m not exactly sure what he did on Bay Street, but he was the VP of something-something-something for a bank. Let's just say that bank was CIBC.

Whatever the case, the guy had a big title and big salary. He also had a big…place. (You were waiting for me to say penis, right?)

This guy wore a fancy suit each day, drove his fancy car to his fancy office. He was as equally arrogant as he was insecure (AF).

My father asked him, “So, what do you do?” I was already cringing. In my opinion, there is not a more boring conversation starter than, “So, what do you do?” But, hey, at least it’s a safe question.

In fact, the question often irritates me when I feel people are calculating, for lack of better word, how much they should respect a person, based on their answer or job title.

When this guy said he worked for CIBC, my father exclaimed, “Oh, that’s my bank! What branch do you work at? I'll come see you next time I’m in line!”

My father thought the dude was a bank teller — which I thought was fucking hilarious.

(I find it incredibly entertaining to watch egotistical men not getting the idolization they think they deserve because they may have a fancy title on a business card. But, hey, that’s just me!)

My date did not find my father’s response hilarious! (because he was an arrogant fuck.) He was completely offended! His ego completely bruised.

We didn’t last. Not because he took offence to my father thinking he was a bank teller — oh, the horror! — but for other reasons that may or may not include the fact that he kept stealing my underwear. But that’s a story for another time.

One of the second funniest moments in my life was when I was at an event with My Guy when we just started dating.

We were at some celebration where I didn't know anyone. I barely knew him! So, of course, I did what anyone else would do as a plus-one and who didn’t know anyone: I headed directly to the bar for some liquid courage.

The problem was, as the liquid courage went in, the lies came out.

I know. Lying is wrong. But let me explain myself! I like to think of the times I’ve lied to people when they ask, “So, what do you do?” more like role playing than lying.

That night? I didn’t feel like being a writer. I just wanted to dance and have fun! It was, after all, a celebration, not a networking event.

So when someone came up to greet My Guy, they asked if I was a lawyer, as well. Well, the tequila started speaking…

“No, I’m not a lawyer. I work for TV Guide magazine,” I said, to which they responded, “Is that still around?” To which I responded, “Yes! Name any show and I can tell you exactly what day and time it airs, and also when it repeats.”

This turned out to be a blast. They named a television show and tequila I responded, “It airs Wednesdays at 8:00 p.m. Then it repeats later that night at 10 p.m. and again on Saturday mornings!”

I had no fucking clue when the show they named aired, but at least they moved on and we talked about travelling and food and music — you know, non-work related stuff. Also, My Guy thought my little white lie was a hoot and fell in love with me that night!

I’ve noticed that if I’m at an event with My Guy and people ask him what he does, there is only one follow-up question.

I'm setting the scene: Me and My Guy are at a cocktail party for a charity. We know a handful of people, but certainly not all of them. Friends introduce us to their next-door neighbours’ second cousins from twenty-five years ago.

Random Person My Guy is Introduced to: So, what do you do?

My Guy: I’m a lawyer.

Random Person: Oh, what kind of law?

My Guy: Tax law and litigation.

Random Person: [Staring blankly at him] “Well, nice meeting you. I'm going to go get a drink. Ta-ta!”

There might be one one other follow-up question to my tax litigator boyfriend, which is, “What firm?” but usually this is only asked by others who also happen to be lawyers or people who need lawyers.

And…

This is what happens when I'm introduced to someone for the first time and tell them the truth that I’m a writer.

Random Stranger: So, what do you do?

Me: [Taking a deep breath] I’m a writer. And you?

Stranger: I’m an orthodontist, but I’ve always wanted to write.

Me: That’s funny! I’ve always wanted to try and put braces on people’s teeth.

Stranger: You wouldn’t believe the stories I have! Everyone tells me I should write a book.

Me: So, write it!

Stranger: I would, but I just don’t have the time. I have so many patients and three kids.

Me: So, how old are your children?

Stranger: What do you write? Have I seen your writing anywhere?

Me: I’ve written a few books. So, how old are your kids again? [Glancing around for a bartender]

Stranger: Have I heard of any of them?

Me: I don’t know. Do you like memoirs and chick-lit? My latest memoir is called Blissfully Blended Bullshit. It's about how I tried to blend families and failed miserably.

Stranger: Oh, I think I know someone else who is in a blended family and wrote a book about it, too! Maybe she can give you some advice?

Me: Um, okay? [Wondering who the fuck this person is for offering me up advice on relationships or writing]

Stranger: I don’t usually like to read memoirs. I prefer historical fiction.

Me: Have you seen a bartender walking around anywhere?

Stranger: The problem is, I never have time to read. I used to love reading, but you know, with my job and my kids I'm so exhausted when I get home that I usually binge-watch shows on Netflix. I don’t remember the last book I finished, let alone started.

Me: So what shows have you been bing —?

Stranger: Where can I find your books?

Me: Oh, just go to Amazon or the Indigo website. Do you happen to know where the washrooms are?

Stranger: Do they have your books at the library?

Me: Yes, I believe they do. Anyway, it was really nice chatting but I —

Stranger: I don't have a library card. Maybe I'll ask one of my friends if they have any of your books. I have a few friends who read a lot of memoirs. I’ll see if they have any of your books and ask to borrow them.

Me: Great! Again, it was so nice to —

Stranger: You know what? I’m going to start writing a book.

Me: You totally should! I’m going to head to the bar and try to find —

Stranger: I mean, how hard could writing a book be?

Me: [Trying not to look visibly offended] Actually, it’s really hard. I like to say writing a book is somewhere between fun and torture — kind of like braces — and that you’d have to be absolutely utterly ridiculously coconuts to want to write a book.

Stranger: But it would be so fun to spend my days doing something I truly enjoyed, like you! Writing is like a hobby, isn’t it?

Me: [Taking a deep inhale and then exhale] Well, writing IS a job, and like most people, writers have good days at work and bad days.

Stranger: But you get to set your own schedule and write from anywhere! How luxurious! I'm so envious.

Me: Well, that's not exactly how my day works. I have kids, too, and I just —

Stranger: Imagine if you wrote a book that got turned into a movie. Have any of your books been turned into movies that I can watch?

Me: Well, not exactly…but a few of them have been optioned for television and movies.

Stranger: So, how many books have you sold?

Me: I have no idea. I don't keep track.

Stranger: So how much money do you make writing books?

Me: Um, I don’t think most writers write for the money. [Wondering now if I could ask the orthodontist how much money they make]

Stranger: Oh, well maybe I'll write a book when I retire then!

Me: You should definitely do that! I’m sorry. I need to go find my partner. And the bar. And the washroom. It was great meeting you!

Stranger: Wait! Here’s my card. It has my work address on it. Can you send me a copy of your latest book?

Me: [Getting a little feisty!] I could or…YOU could go on Amazon or to Indigo and buy your own copy maybe?

Stranger: If I remember! Would you sign it for me?

Me: So, to be clear, you want me to sign a book that you want me to send you a copy of…for free…that you don’t have time to read, in a genre you don't like reading?

Stranger: Yes, exactly!

Me: Oh, look — Mini hamburger sliders!

[Walking away regretting not saying I was a dog walker/pilot/crossing guard/scuba diver instructor/piano tuner/TV Guide editor, while also regretting not asking them if they could give me free Invisalign treatments]

And…end scene! [Me taking a bow]

Do you see why I sometimes lie roleplay when asked what I “do?”

Most people have zero idea what a typical day looks like for a full-time writer, conjuring up a false, envious snapshot of this career in their imaginations.

Being a writer comes with its own complexities, stereotypes and insecurities, so inevitably, I worry people are going to say something that will set me — or any author or writer — off.

Like telling an author you don’t read? (Don’t!) Or alluding that it’s just a hobby? (Don’t) Or asking for a free copy when you can clearly afford to buy one? (Don’t) Or saying that you don’t read whatever genre you just said you wrote in (Don’t)

Or saying you’ll borrow it from a friend after they finish it (meaning a lost sale. Don’t!)

Next time I'm asked what I do, depending on who is asking and what mood I’m in…I may just say, “I'm a tax litigator who loves sweet potato fries.” Now that’s a conversation starter!

xo

Rebecca