1. Pretend you’re dignified.
What a waste of time, right? I remember landing at my almost-snooty college and seeing all of these freshman kids engaged in some elaborate mimicry of sophistication: They called each other “sweetie” like they were middle-aged moms rubbing sunscreen on each other’s backs at a country club in Westchester. Or they drank red wine and sniffed it first (even though it came from a box) and became presidents of their fraternities. My idea of dignity at the time was vomiting into the bushes instead of all over my shoes. I thought sophistication was for losers who wanted to fit in with other losers in the dull sorts of places where people quietly one-upped each other’s ideas instead of mocking each other’s voices and appearances outright.
I’m not suggesting that you actually become dignified, of course. That would be like asking you to dress up in a giant bunny suit for no good reason. No. I’m suggesting that you can pretend to be dignified merely by guarding your interests, or showing guarded interest, or behaving like a disinterested guard. Pretend you have something to guard. Pretend you’re someone who seems mysterious to others. Cultivate a facial expression that seems to whisper, “I know something you don’t know.” Say less than you need to. Don’t quite get your point across. Don’t clarify. When asked to clarify, raise one eyebrow and smirk ever so slightly.
OK, I hate you now. It’s working!
2. Act like you can keep a secret.
Sometimes this can be tough. I suggest you start by pretending that you have secrets you want to keep. Imagine! Who has secrets? What kind of freak hides things from other people? What’s worth hiding anymore? Fetishes? Pervy inclinations? A hankering for illicit affairs? We wear these whispered proclivities like feather boas now, out in the open, with flair. We blast an airhorn and announce them to a crowded room. We plaster our secrets across billboards, and anyone who thinks their little turn-on should remain hidden is the most mundane herd animal who was ever born.
See also: A true professional. To seem professional, it’s good to act like you have something to hide. When touchy situations arise, take a person into your confidences, but not by telling them the whole truth (“That guy is a complete tool and I cannot work with him”) but by hinting at dark secrets best not revealed at this time (“It’s a delicate situation that I’m hoping you can help me with”). Professionals love delicacy. They love to tip-toe through tulips made of time bombs. They love suspenseful withholding, acts of restraint, rampant self-censorship, a glimmer in the eye accompanied by sealed lips.
As a writer or artist or regular unshowered jackass, none of these things will turn you on, of course. You’ll want to take a baseball bat to that field of bombs, blab away, insert your foot into your mouth over and over again. You’re a walking spoiler alert.
This is why no one really wants to hire you unless they absolutely have to. Pretend you love discretion instead. Act like secrets get you hot.
Imagine being that boring. Build a house out of that flavor of boring. Move into it. You’re a professional now.
3. Do less.
True professionals are always doing less work than you’d expect them to do. Only amateurs overproduce, create more than they need to create, offer extensive feedback where one or two comments in the margins will do, write four paragraph emails where one line would suffice. Only novices are thorough and exacting, interrupting to point out major flaws, interjecting observations that undermine the viability of the entire project.
Professionals never undermine the viability of anything. They nod along. They go with the flow. They say less and do less. When they do say something, they mean less than they say. Whatever they say they want, you’re supposed to give them less than half of that. Overdelivering will erode your value. Going above and beyond the call of duty will reveal you as a flat-out rube.
Aim to spend half the time you want to spend. Do ¼ of the work that’s been asked. Present your work without disclaimers. Take feedback but implement only 1/5 of the changes requested. If you’re asked to justify any of this (though you won’t be), hint that there are solid but necessarily obscure reasons that you did it this way. Then say to yourself, silently, “I know something you don’t know.” Most professionals are mind readers. They have to be. They rarely speak out loud in order to communicate actual facts. What you take for “conversation” is just two or three professionals making amiable noises that are 99% content-free.
4. Make amiable noises that are 99% content-free.
The primary objective of any professional at any job is to make amiable noises. This is what professionals do all day long. This is the primary job qualification of every professional. (The only exception is the boss, who can make a wide range of hideous and broken and braying noises about anything under the sun, but don’t let him trick you into thinking that’s OK for you, because it’s not and it never will be.) Making amiable noises is the only task that you cannot half-ass, as a professional. You must make many amiable noises, all the time.
There is no way to overdo this, no way to overshoot your mark in the realm of amiability. None of your noises should be tied to reality, though. Never exhibit any edge. Never hint at anything darkly. Never seem to have an inner life. Never appear conflicted. Never insinuate that you have your own private take on your job or the office or the world at large that is different from anyone else’s take.
Amiable noises are perhaps the loudest over email: Always be thrilled about the opportunity. Always be excited to get started. Always be looking forward to everything. Always thank everyone for everything and anything they do, whether they meet the bare minimum requirements or fall far short. Every experience has been such a great experience. Everyone has been a joy to work with. Wish nothing but the best for everyone, always and forever.
A true professional says this shit until it feels real. A true professional loses touch with reality entirely. A true professional has an inner life that is an exact mirror of her outer life. A true professional no longer snickers at snide remarks, unless they are whispered like a secret fetish hidden under the bed at home, like a question mark packed up in a box in the closet, like a mystery that will never unfold – and that’s a promise!
Let’s never get to the bottom of this, the true professional tells you. I’m really looking forward to being kept in the dark, you reply with a smile. Nothing will be thorough or complete, unless someone is fucking up. Nothing will be revolutionized, unless someone is about to get demoted. No one will tell the truth, unless someone is about to get fired.
This is where the money is. Hide yourself in a box under the bed, forever, until you can’t find yourself, until you don’t even notice that you’re missing anymore, and it’s all yours.
Today’s Ask Polly features the most terrible in-laws in the known universe. No really. Trust me. Grappling with terrible people? Write to askmolly at protonmail.com.
And in a true testament to today's post, someone just unsubscribed because they were getting too many emails. See also: "Only amateurs overproduce, create more than they need to create." No amount of success can drive an inveterate amateur to underperform. (But I am trying to post less! My dreams of half-assing this newsletter will come true some day, I swear to you!)
Thank you for this! I'm going to kill it in my interview for a promotion today. Practicing amiable noises.