I’m Sorry I Told Everyone You Were Dead to Further My Career
Getting ahead in publishing is hard, so I had to make some sacrifices. Such as you.
Thanks so much for coming to Amagansett for a family dinner. Remember we used to do this every Sunday? Back before I started telling people you were dead? Those were the days.
Listen, I know it’s been a busy week, what with everyone finding out you’re alive. Think about how tough it has been for me! Coworkers who sent flowers for the funerals now want to be reimbursed. How crazy is that?! People can be so nitpicky.
I know what you’re thinking: “Dan, is all that stuff in the article true? Did you really leave cups of pee in your boss’s office?” I want to clarify that was not some territory-marking stunt. I’m a hard worker and don’t like to take bathroom breaks when I’m in the flow. (See what I did there? I’m so clever.)
I’m sure it was upsetting to find out I told people you were dead. But what choice did I have? Publishing is a tough industry. Many people have overcome great obstacles, like oppression, discrimination and a lack of resources. But you, my family? You’ve been nothing but supportive and helpful. So I had to kill you.
However, please be assured you died in the most beautiful ways. Your deaths brought my coworkers to tears. There’s even talk of gathering my e.mails about your deaths into a collection. Wouldn’t it be nice if my e.mails about your fake deaths became a bestseller? That’s what I do best: squeeze lemonade from lemons. Even if those lemons don’t exist.
Mom, I know I shouldn’t have told people you were dying from cancer — repeatedly — but I really didn’t want to go to those Wednesday afternoon meetings. Saying I had to nurse my terminally ill mother seemed better than saying “I really don’t want to go to those Wednesday afternoon meetings.” And why should I go to meetings like every other employee? Meetings are for other people, like interns and women.
Sure, my repeated lies made it more difficult for coworkers who were struggling to balance real family/work issues. Can you imagine a less-privileged person trying to pull that off? But let’s stay focused on me. I’m the one who bravely overcame fictitious tragedies and carried on.
I’m great at conquering setbacks that didn’t happen.
I’m sure you’re wondering, “But Dan, how many times can you lie about the same family member dying and get away with it?” I’m a white man in publishing. It’s not that hard.
However, I know I was very unfair to you, my family. I told everyone my mother was dead but only told a few people my brother was dead. Sorry, Bro. I didn’t give Dad an epic, tragic backstory. I’m sorry, Dad. And my two sisters. How can I make it up to you? I never killed you, not even once. Please don’t think that means I don’t love you.
I know I have some reckoning to do. I invented a fake cancer so I could skip work. That’s not fair to people who actually have cancer. I should have said I had Ebola, and for that I’m sorry.
But please don’t dwell on some harmless white lies. The fact remains that I overcame great obstacles, like having graduated from Duke, to become the golden boy of publishing, no small feat for a white man from a wealthy family.
I promise that in the future when I need fake hardships to make myself seem legitimate, I’ll be more careful and considerate of you, my family members. And if flowers show up for a funeral that’s not happening, just go with the flow, ok?
Sue D. Gelber is a New Englander turned Chicagoan now living in Colorado. You can find her at suedgelber.com or on Twitter at @suegelber.
