.SOMETIMES RAW.

Looking forward to your golden years, but afraid you’ll never be able to afford it? Our facility offers elderly the comfort of a living space with the same lack of character as an office cubicle. Be surrounded by like-minded residents like yourself, who will be working on their laptops to pay off their bills until the day they die.

Amenities

We did everything we could to re-create the best of the environment you spent seventy years toiling away in, with the following amenities:

• Flexible Leases. Although we want you to stay as long as possible (for financial purposes), we know you may feel uneasy signing a twelve-month lease. That’s why we offer day-to-day leases for our touch-and-go members. Whether you get fired or die (whatever comes first), we’ll accommodate you.
• Playground for Your Grandkids While You Work. The golden years are all about reconnecting with family. Now that you’re retired, it’s time to step into full-time Grandparent Mode. If your grandkids come to visit, but you’re still grinding over that spreadsheet, no fear—we have a Fun Room that any kid will love: wooden blocks, one singular Barbie with its head ripped off, and a TV from 2002 that doesn’t work. The grands will be having too much of a blast in the Fun Room that they won’t even remember they didn’t know you that well when you’re dead.
• IT Support from Your Next-Door Neighbor, Hank. You thought they were nonverbal when they were young; just wait until you receive the speedy, comprehensive PDF-opening service support they give you while they’re in hospice.
• On-the-Clock Job Coaches for When You’re Fired for Being Too Old. At YouStillWork, we know ageism is real. But as we say here, “You still gotta pay the bills.” That’s why we have on-site job coaches to help you find your next gig when you get canned from your current one for hugging the nurse uncomfortably long.

Testimonials

“I was worried that because I was terminally ill at ninety-six years old, I wouldn’t be able to keep my job as a graphic designer. Thanks to YouStillWork, I’m still able to bring value to the shareholders and have as much cold beer as my third heart transplant can handle.” 
— Connie, graphic designer, 96 years old

“Someone like me loved going to the office five days a week—hell, six days a week if I was lucky—because I hated my wife and kids. Now that I’m at YouStillWork, they never visit me, and I couldn’t be happier!” 
— Bob, digital marketing manager, 85 years old

“YouStillWork makes it easy to both live and work. I just got off my yearly performance review call, while Stephanie, my night nurse, bathed me. Flexibility at its finest.” 
— Harry, social media influencer, 81 years old

“Retirement never seemed like something that would be in my reach, and it still isn’t. But at YouStillWork, now I can continue to work fifteen-hour days, and occasionally indulge in building perks like Thursday-night bingo.” 
— Sally, Customer service representative, 72 years old

FAQs

How do I become a resident?
Just because you didn’t hit your performance goals in a normal office doesn’t mean it’s over. You may have just needed a change in scenery. Does that sound like you? In addition to proof of a job, you must show proper documentation that you’ve had an extremely uncomfortable and combative conversation with family who felt it was time to put you here. Members are not allowed to come on their own free will, just like the classic and mandatory in-office five-day-a-week attendance policy. YouStillWork offers kidnapping as an add-on service and will be charged as an initiation fee.

Are there networking events?
A common misconception is that coworking at YouStillWork is their last chapter, but really, it’s just another. We offer several networking events a year with recruiters from the best employers from heaven, purgatory, and hell to assist you with a future job search when you’ve fulfilled your earthly duties.

Is there a cafeteria?
Yes. We offer a large selection of expired granola bars, overripe bananas, and nutritious potato chips so that our residents can maintain their brittleness as they finish their lives off utterly defeated and working for someone who doesn’t care whether they live or die.

So what are you waiting for (other than the sweet release of death, of course)? Reimagine your work-life balance and apply for a kidnapping to YouStillWork today.

Me in my living room trying to find and fire the butler.

Some people seem to have it all. Money, fame, mansions, you name it. I always wonder how the super-rich live on a daily basis. But are they truly happy? When money is no issue, when you can do whatever you want. Maybe, maybe not. But it would be fun to live this kind of life for one day. This is what I imagine it looks like.

I play hide-and-seek in my mansion penthouse with my son, both of us dressed in silk loungewear. We switch to silk Kimonos and eat sushi for breakfast (tuna and salmon from our lake), prepared by our Japanese chef who lives with us.

Later, I wear my new black Chanel dress to the opening of the latest La Boheme performance at the Vienna Opera, enjoying the best and most expensive seats, actually on stage with the performers while they perform. Yeah, that kind of rich.

I own a silk Dior bathrobe exclusively for wafting silently from room to room when I’m home alone.

I celebrate the life of my best friend’s recently departed dog, who was run over by my Rolls-Royce. I am dressed again in black Chanel from head to toe out of respect for Monsieur Le Pooch.

My pilot was five minutes late for pickup, but I still arrived on time at my silent retreat at a Cistercian monastery in the Bahamas, carrying my Louis Vuitton yoga mat. I prepared for the occasion by getting Botox shots in my armpits to ensure that the sound of dripping sweat will not disturb me during scorpion pose.

My butler is contractually obligated to say everything sotto voce (a quiet voice, in case you don’t know. We use big words and terms only because we are fancy!)

I take a therapist-mandated time-out, during which I must remove my Manolo Blahnik stiletto heels, sit in the corner of my therapist’s office (facing the wall), and remain silent for fifty-five minutes. My therapist is one of the leading proponents of Laconism, a school of psychiatry based on the belief that the best way to treat mental illness is not to speak about it.

I wear my Versace leather jumpsuit at a dinner invitation for diplomatic VIPs only. The US president will be present.

I have a Bottega Veneta toiletry kit full of calming supplements and remedies. It is getting a little chilly outside while I am putting on my Prada virgin wool earmuffs.

I hold in a fart in the ground-floor bathroom of the Ritz-Carlton Vienna.

I bring a suitcase stuffed with Armani cashmere scarves to my lover’s apartment in Vienna’s 1st District. I do this so I can scatter them on the floor and sneak out without waking him the next morning. That’s how much I care about his work as the president of BMW.

Now that I’ve created a foundation dedicated to baking Matcha cookies with real gold sprinkles,, I always take care to wear my Valentino wrap coat for the cookie headquarters’ annual active-shooter drill and mass casualties drill.

I take a break from my busy day and read a book at the rooftop cafe of The Four Seasons Hotel after having indulged in a lunch with too much lobster and caviar.

When my BMW lover dumps me at my charity cookie headquarters, I don’t make a scene. I save my screaming and sobbing for the soundproofed space our charity likes to call the “Feelings Room.”

During my voluntary stay at the Psychiatric Hospital for the super rich, I am confined to a leather-padded cell, wearing a vintage, studded straitjacket designed by Karl Lagerfeld.

I never talk about money. Only poor people do that.

Finally, it’s this time of the year. Summer Holidays. My son and I will go on a little adventure and explore Japan for the next couple of weeks. I will take a blogging break to indulge in sushi 3x a day (at least), walk around in a Kimono, and climb Mount Fuji to blend in (for sure if we do it in a Kimono). I am not looking forward to the 11-hour flight, but hey, we gotta get there somehow, and I think it is still better to book a direct flight, if possible, than an hour-long layover somewhere.

Let’s just get something straight, right off the bat. By reading this, you, as a human, are not going to learn how to actually fly. That’s just impossible. Do you have wings? No. Is your butt a jet pack? It is not. I don’t know what the future holds, but I’ll bet that a jet pack butt is not included. Why do you want to fly anyway? We all know what happened to Icarus. His FACE melted off when he tried to fly. This is an article on how not to be an asshole on the plane and how to fly IN an airplane. This is simply how to be a good passenger and make the most of your time in the air.

While you’re waiting to board the plane, take note of the people also on your flight. Are there any good-looking ones? Of course there aren’t; that never happens. In fact, everyone looks insane because they’re wearing tiny neck pillows. Are you wearing a neck pillow? Ask yourself, Is it worth me wearing this neck pillow in public, just walking around, pretending like I’m not wearing a neck pillow when I am, in fact, wearing a neck pillow? Ask yourself that question three times, just to be sure that you totally agree with your answer.

When you walk through first class, look each person dead in the eye and mouth “asshole.” If you’re wearing a neck pillow, I’m sorry, but you cannot do this.

When the person next to you tries to strike up a conversation, flirtatiously say, “I’d feel a lot more talkative with a drink in me.” And when they offer to buy you a drink, say, “I don’t drink.” Put your head down and cry. If they try to comfort you say, “I could sure use that drink right now.” And they’ll be confused and say, “But I thought you didn’t drink?” That’s when you scream, “You don’t know me!” Guarantee you’ll be left alone after that.

Press your leg against their leg for the rest of the trip. This will maximize your space and let them know that you aren’t really mad at them.

Then order a non-alcoholic drink and stare at them as you down it in one gulp, letting tears steadily roll down your cheeks. This will also let them know that you’re not mad and are in fact sorry for yelling at them. Order something to drink all the time, especially if you have a window seat. Ask your seat neighbour if you can get out to go to the toilet all the time.

When you watch television, do not utilize the buttons on your armrest. Change the channel and volume on the actual screen, with short, powerful jabs. That way, you will have more precision in your channel and volume changing, but you will also be providing a free massage to the person in the seat in front of you.

When the plane lands, clap loudly. Everyone loves this.

When you exit your row, make sure to cut in front of at least three people who are waiting to get out from the rows ahead of you. Because they need a good healthy lesson in “you snooze, you lose.” In fact, as you rush past them feel free to say, “you snooze, you lose” but ONLY if you are not wearing a neck pillow. Because if you are, you clearly subscribe to the “you snooze, you win” philosophy. Listen, there’s a reason “you snooze, you win” is not a phrase listed in the Urban Dictionary. It is both false and not rhyming. Just take off the damn neck pillow.

And here is a list of people on the plane, categorised by the pants they are wearing. This information might come in handy!

Wool Suit Pants: Will board before you.

Wool Hunting Pants: Will board after you.

Pleated Dockers: Will loudly talk on cell phone about Scotland and Dracula, and Sherlock Holmes.

Pajama Bottoms: Will be flying either to or from a city with huge universities. Might smell bad.

Sweatpants with I Love Meat Logo: Will clog one or more bathrooms.

Stained Yoga Pants: Will be carrying a screaming child.

Stained Gymboree Pants: Will be a screaming child.

Leather Pants: Did not pay for own flight.

Pants with Underwear Sticking Out: Did not pay for own flight.

Jeans with Rhinestones: Will get wasted on tequila and Sprite and looks at flight attendant’s boob.

Tight Black Stretch Pants: Will be a pharmaceutical sales rep named Morgan.

Hemp Pants: Will be flying either to or from a city with a yurt resort.

Golf Pants: Will “accidentally” click on a porn link on his laptop.

Camouflage Cargos: Carry-on is a styrofoam cooler sealed with duct tape.

Blue Capris: European on business.

Red Capris: European on holiday.

Plaid Capris: European on way to rehab.

Pink Sweatpants: Will laugh her ass off at the Adam Sandler in-flight movie.

Beige Slacks: Will nervously clutch book about how liberals are destroying America.

Linen Trousers: Will swallow a Xanax and mangle your hand during take-off.

Wide-waled Corduroys: Traveling with a cat.

Thin-waled Corduroys: Traveling with a guitar.

Patched Corduroys: Traveling with a cat named Guitar.

Orange Jumpsuit: Did not pay for own flight.

Skinny Jeans: Will develop deep vein thrombosis.

Swim Trunks: Will be escorted off plane by federal air marshal for doing something gross to the beverage cart.

5.11 Tactical Pants in Black, Beige, or Camouflage: Federal air marshal, security or police officer

Have a safe and pleasant flight. And don’t be an asshole.