I’m a comedian. I’m among the least essential of workers. I’m it—it’s me! I’m SOOOOOO nonessential.
Comedians can’t treat your medical ailments, we can’t fix your broken pipes, we don’t know how drywall works, we don’t restock the shelves with the goods that sustain you, and most of us are bad at reading directions. There’s an IKEA desk at my place that would corroborate this.
I’m going to continue being useless because I believe this is temporary. I’ll put up with the pain and suffering, the economic toll, the hardship and anxiety, the overuse of pajama pants.
We are nonessential AF—we’re nonessential beyond F. When push comes to shove, no one needs a comedian in a bunker. In fact, if you find yourself in a bunker with a comedian—which, at this point, who knows!—you should, Lord of the Flies-style, eat the comedian. That would be the most rational option. And again, I say that . . . as a comedian. A comedian who has been carb-loading.
And there is no “But . . .” here. I’m just coming to terms with how little my work matters when it comes to global pandemics, wars, and natural disasters.
You can even make the case that someone in “marketing” is more essential than me. People in marketing have to communicate to masses of people. They’re either trying to sell a widget (less essential in a pandemic) or a message (more essential in a pandemic). Stand six feet apart! Wear a mask! Wash your hands! That’s all marketing. (Marketing rooted in science, which is the best kind.)
I know what you’re thinking: “Comedians hold a mirror to society.” True. Totally true. I’ve held mirrors, and I’m even proud of some of those mirrors. But we only need a few mirror-holders right now to make wryly satirical points about the way the administration botched its handling of this pandemic.
And we don’t even necessarily need those, because Donald Trump does such a fantastic job embarrassing himself—whether it’s on a televised task force briefing, an impromptu press spray, his Twitter feed, the way he handles umbrellas, the way he eats chicken, and/or his general demeanor. The President has been self-styling the satire which has been making us all laugh/cry.
It’s true that comedians perform in clubs, bars, and theaters and are thus a part of an entire economic system of “entertainment.” It’s a system that helps create jobs for waitstaff, bartenders, bouncers, theater workers, and the various other people who keep entertainment alive. Yes, even as I type this, I still think we’re getting eaten in the bunker.
For those of us feeling useless, and I know comedians aren’t the only ones (magicians, I’m looking at you!), the big question is: Does this whole thing make me want to fundamentally change my job, my career, my life?
At this moment, I’m going to say, no. It doesn’t.
First, we can’t all be essential. That would be ridiculous. Even when the Soviet Union assigned careers to people, some of those people were farmers, some were gymnasts, and some were doctors. They weren’t all doctors. Society would fall apart if everyone was just walking around diagnosing each other.
Second, the useless among us are a symbol. A symbol that we once had a “fun time.” We were once a reason you put on your semi-nice slacks, brushed your hair, and walked out the door in search of mirth and cheer and other synonyms for fun—words we haven’t been using much these days.
I’m going to continue being useless because I believe this is temporary. I’ll put up with the pain and suffering, the economic toll, the hardship and anxiety, the overuse of pajama pants. It’s all temporary. It’s not a new normal, it’s a pause on normal.
We’ve had lots of pandemics! The plague of Athens, the Cyprian plague, the Black Death, the Great Plague of London, the 1918 flu! And, after every pandemic, people reset, reapply their lipstick, fasten their pantaloons, and go out on the town.
The nonessential workers, like me, will be there to greet them.