You thought your relentless hustle was finally going to pay off. But as the casting of 'The Devil Wears Prada 2' proves, the era of trying is over, and you are wearing the wrong pants.
You probably woke up this morning, drank a functional beverage, and briefly reviewed your five-year plan. You are still operating under the tragic, exhausting delusion that striving matters. But the culture has shifted beneath your meticulously moisturized feet, and you missed the memo. The news that Caleb Hearon—a comedian whose primary demographic is people who own a microphone but refuse to sit up straight while using it—has secured the assistant role in The Devil Wears Prada 2 is not just a casting announcement. It is a referendum on your entire personality.
We are entering the era of the ambiently employed. The job a million girls would kill for no longer goes to the girl who is actually willing to kill for it. It goes to a guy who seems mildly surprised to have been asked to leave his apartment. While you were busy curating a wardrobe that says you want to be taken seriously, the culture decided that wanting things is a moral failing. You are still wearing a blazer right now, aren't you? Please take it off. You are embarrassing us both.
I threw out all my structured garments the minute I heard he got the part. Trying is objectively humiliating now.
Hearon's casting as the new generation's Andy Sachs proves that Hollywood—and by extension, the universe—is entirely finished with your desperate need for approval. While you were rehearsing elevator pitches and politely laughing at your manager's jokes, Hearon was doing crowd work in a comfortably oversized button-down. The million girls who would kill for this job must now accept that their ambition is incredibly dated. The chicest thing you can do in the modern workforce is to completely refuse to optimize your life.
So stop sending follow-up emails. Cancel your subscriptions to whatever industry networking newsletters you are hoarding in your inbox. The new aspiration is simply to exist, vaguely amused, until Meryl Streep forcefully hands you a career. Go buy a slightly heavier, ethically sourced fleece, practice looking a little more tired, and please, for your own sake, stop trying so hard.