Why I Need a Butler
I don’t generally consider myself a lazy person. I work a full-time job while pursuing my life’s work in my spare time (namely, acting, writing, and keeping Jif stock prices healthy). I make my bed every morning, which I recently learned basically makes you a hero. I am mostly a go-getter in every way, except for not liking to wear pants, which has less to do with laziness and more to do with a general dislike of tailored waistbands. But it occurred to me recently that I could justify several reasons for hiring a butler. And yes, it first occurred to me when I encountered yet another public surface I didn’t want to touch.
1. A butler could go around opening doors for me and universally handling things I don’t want to handle. Some people would argue that butlers are for the home, but I say butlers are for the CTA. And anywhere else someone has potentially touched the same surface I am after masturbating and not washing their hands. Because the thing is, butlers get to wear those gloves! If I walked around wearing white kid gloves, people would think I was crazy (which, arguably, I am). But with butlers, it’s expected. People would think it was charming. Plus, it’s not like I’m asking him to take a sneeze bullet for me. (Though maybe I would.) Jill would probably call this “enablement.” I call it “a brilliant solution.”
2. I could do stupid things if I wanted to. If you haven’t read P.G. Wodehouse or seen the Jeeves and Wooster series, a) What are you doing with your life? And b) Seriously, what are you doing with your life? For those of you who don’t know, these stories chronicle a young British boulevardier named Bertie Wooster (Hugh Laurie, in the show) who always gets himself into trouble, and his genius butler Jeeves (Stephen Fry) always gets him out. Currently, I have to make smart, well-informed decisions, which actually happens about 60% of the time. (I don’t have a great sense of self-preservation.) If I had a butler, I could do whatever I want and he would fix it, likely in a way that would also make good television. I’m not saying I would go around accidentally getting myself engaged or inadvertently stealing valuable cow-shaped creamers, but it would be nice to have the option.
3. I could count him as a tax deduction. I’m guessing butlers are usually covered by 1099s, but I would strike a deal wherein I declared him as my dependent, perhaps in exchange for sexual favors. Or sharing my Ben & Jerry’s with him. Which is something that sounds vaguely post-coital but definitely isn’t as I can easily eat an entire pint by myself.
Or he could declare me as his dependent, since we’d live together and he would technically be taking care of me. Either way, it would mean a tax break for both of us. I’m fairly certain this is how taxes work.
4. We could role play. By which I mean I would pretend to be a contestant on the Great British Baking Show and he would pretend to be Mary Berry. (I know I mentioned sexual favors a second ago, but honestly, get your head out of the gutter.) He would compliment the evenness of my sponge and not dock me points for not having fancy decorations because this cake isn’t for a wedding, for God’s sake, it’s for my Saturday night. And yes, I would make him wear a Lily Pulitzer cardigan. This is already my new favorite game.
5. He could help me with my self-tapes. For those who don’t act, self-taping is what happens when, after a day of successfully managing to avoid putting on make-up (if you’re me), your agent calls you and says so-and-so wants to see you read for whatever and he needs a video of it by first thing in the morning. As in, thirteen hours from now. Then you curse yourself for lack of foresight, because not only did you not #wokeuplikethis, you definitely don’t #stilllooklikethis after eight and a half hours of juggling calendars, processing expenses, and nervous sweating, which are the three main things I do at my day job. So I have to scrawl on the bare minimum amount of stuff that will prevent descriptions like “sallow” and “chronically anemic” from coming to mind when the casting director pulls up my tape. Then I have to beg my poor, saintly sister to record me while reading the other set of lines at the same time. What I’m saying is, the butler could give my sister a break. I’m not entirely sure he could help with the makeup part.
6. He could go on dates for me. Swipe right if you’d like to be pre-screened by a reserved, middle-aged British man who, yes, will probably still share dessert with you.
I could go on, but I’m fairly confident I’ve made my case. So if anyone is aware of any strong contenders, let me know. Otherwise I’ll just use the free code I got from Oprah’s Super Soul podcast to post on ZipRecruiter.
Probably while not wearing pants.