How often have you yearned to be split into two different selves? I can definitely say I've gone through that. Oh, maybe not as a little kid, when each summer vacation (not to mention each school day -- even each session of recess!) seemed approximately 16 months long. In college, however, I wanted to divvy myself up as follows: One person could do all the grunt work -- attending classes, writing research papers, tutoring, studying, cleaning. The other could go to parties, aerobics, club meetings, and evenings of hanging out and watching TV in someone's dorm (preferably someone I already knew, or else that person might be a little confused upon walking in). You know, the optional stuff -- the fun stuff. I assumed, once I broke into the working world, striking a healthy balance wouldn't be nearly so difficult anymore. I could work during the day, forget about it and do whatever I pleased afterwards, then resume the routine the next morning. No schoolwork, no grueling final exams, no all-nighters in the library. Finding the time to do everything should be a piece of cake! Well, how very shortsighted this was.
In the last few months, I've longed for a personal sidekick like crazy. On the job, I've wanted one person to handle my paperwork, phone calls, and office tasks, while another could tackle all of the appointments and meetings away from my desk. On Fridays, both could go bar-hopping together. (It would likely take a third individual to supply me with all the coffee I tend to desire throughout the day, but we'll not go there.) After work, I've wanted one person to tackle chores, errands, house-hunting, and getting enough sleep, while another could read a book or magazine, go out to see friends, take long walks (and later nurse my injuries after tripping on twigs during those walks). . . whatever. The list goes on and on.
Now, all of you people out there with spouses and/or kids are probably snorting at my singleness, my childlessness, my patheticness. What do I know about struggling? How on earth would I handle it if I did have a family to care for? Well, I would shoot a snappy comeback at you, but frankly. . . uh. . . I don't have one. Oh, and there's another thing. . . I should enlist an assistant to help me with comebacks, too! For that matter, I occasionally wish someone could give me a script to follow during the day. Something loaded with biting wit, dazzling brilliance, and the perfect words for any situation. Some arrangement where I would not be held fully liable for my remarks to other people. Oh, and if I could have a wardrobe and makeup department (not to mention a snazzy dressing room with light bulbs around the mirrors), then, so much the better.
OK, so this is now getting a little out of hand. A little forced and theatrical. I'm no longer referring to an "assistant" and am now stepping way outside the bounds of reality. Next thing you know, I'll envision a world in which one person enjoys yummy foods and transfers all the calories to the other, or in which people randomly burst into song out of nowhere! Well. . . OK. I'm not heavily into musicals; I don't really want that. (That last part, that is.) On a semi-related note, though, wouldn't it be amazing if someone popped out of the woodwork and handily addressed any question or concern you had at any given moment? Wouldn't this save you a heck of a lot of looking stuff up?
Last night, something very similar did happen.
My sister, cousins, and I were taking goofy pictures of ourselves posing in tree branches. (We talked about incorporating benches, hills, and stairs into our little photo shoot, but there were too many people hanging around and we didn't want them falling over us or trying to steal our ideas.) Then, we walked past a tall, lofty statue and began debating if we should climb onto it and act extremely familiar with it for the camera. The statue was of a guy named Nikola Tesla. Amidst a lengthy discussion, my sister said something like "Well, if it were of someone I knew, then I might feel comfortable doing that. But I would feel disrespectful sitting on Nikola Tesla's lap when I don't even know who he is."
Then, in that precise moment, a crystal-clear voice authoritatively stated: "This is Nikola Tesla. He was a Yugoslavian inventor in (such-and-such era). . ." We turned around and saw a tour guide describing Nikola Tesla in detail to a rapt audience. Well, how convenient was that! Just when we'd been wondering whom this statue even represented, this dude had shown up out of the blue to give us a thorough explanation. Talk about impeccable timing!
Having decided (obviously) not to photograph ourselves with Nikola Tesla in front of the spellbound tour group, we strolled elsewhere, laughing like ninnies. (Actually, I'm not 100% sure how ninnies sound when they laugh, but just felt like using that word at this moment.) Wouldn't it be awesome if that guy could kind of subtly follow us around everywhere and helpfully offer up his knowledge whenever we were curious about something? Like if I were shopping and said (while wringing my hands in despair, much like a frazzled mom in a TV commercial), "I don't know what lamp to buy!", then he could suddenly appear by my elbow and assert with utmost confidence, "This is a contemporary floor lamp. It is activated by touch, and has a moderate amount of assembly required. Should you prefer a more traditional device, you might consider this bronze reading lamp with a three-way switch and an embroidered shade available in earth tones." If I didn't know where to go for dinner, he could give his polished expertise on all restaurants within 10 miles. Or if I needed a phone number or address in a hurry, he could fire it off like nobody's business. Come on. . . wouldn't you love to have a service so indispensable as this? You know you would!
If someone does exist who could perform these duties, he ought to put an ad in the classified section of the paper. He'd probably get a flurry of calls in the first couple of hours. Then again, possibly not, because if people had enough time to read the classified ads and respond to them via phone calls, I doubt that they would need a personal sidekick in the first place.
