HOW TO FAKE NORMAL

THE FAKE JOB OFFER

The temp agency placed me at a startup that sold “emotionally intelligent calendars.” I didn’t ask questions. I just nodded and pretended to care, which, ironically, was the most emotionally intelligent thing I’d done all week.

The office smelled like lavender and ambition. Everyone wore sneakers that cost more than my rent and carried reusable water bottles with motivational stickers like “Hydrate or Die-drate.”

My boss was named Chad. Of course he was. He wore loafers without socks and spoke exclusively in startup jargon. “Let’s circle back,” he said within five minutes of meeting me. “Synergy is our soul.”

I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I nodded like I’d just heard Shakespeare.

On day one, Chad gave me a tour of the office. It included:

- A meditation room with bean bags and Himalayan salt lamps

- A kombucha fridge labeled “Ferment Your Feelings”

- A wall of inspirational quotes that made me want to scream

One quote read: “Success is just failure with better branding.” I took a photo and sent it to Jules with the caption: “I’ve entered the cult.”

On day two, I was assigned to “Calendar Content Development.” My job was to write daily affirmations for people who needed their planner to validate their existence.

I wrote things like:

- “You are not your inbox.”

- “Meetings are just socially acceptable naps.”

- “Today is a good day to fake confidence.”

Chad loved them. “You’ve got the voice of the brand,” he said, eyes gleaming like he’d discovered a new cryptocurrency.

On day three, I accidentally deleted a spreadsheet titled “Q3 Soul Metrics.” Chad didn’t notice. I considered it a win.

By day four, I was spiraling. The kombucha had started tasting like regret, and the meditation room smelled faintly of panic.

I called Jules during lunch. “I think I’m losing brain cells.”

“Are they the ones responsible for ambition?”

“Possibly.”

She paused. “You need an exit strategy.”

“I need a raise.”

“You need a lie.”

I blinked. “What kind of lie?”

“The kind that makes you feel powerful.”

So I told her I’d been promoted.

“To what?” she asked.

“Chief of Calendar Feelings.”

She didn’t even flinch. “Is that a real title?”

“It is now.”

She clapped. “You’re thriving.”

“I’m surviving.”

“Same thing.”

I hung up and stared at my desk. It was covered in sticky notes with phrases like “Breathe with purpose” and “Your inbox doesn’t define you.”

I added one more: “Fake it until you make it. Then fake it some more.”