Mothership, I have found ye.
I mean, how freaking amazing would it be to work at any museum? But the Smithsonian? The SMITHSONIAN?*
Ironically, I did interview with the Smithsonian late last summer. Sadly, this interview took place in administrative offices. Though they were across the street from the Air & Space Museum on the outside, they looked just like every other office building on the inside. And if I can’t set up shop inside the skeleton of a dinosaur or the Spirit of St. Louis, I’m not sure the reality of a Smithsonian job would accurately live up to my dreams. (Also, I think my uncontrollable enthusiasm for the Institution threw them. Hiring me would be akin to a celebrity hiring his stalker as his new assistant.)
Museums come in second only to libraries in my list of dream workspaces. Nothing against laboratories, classrooms, cockpits, or wherever your dream job is. Those are all cool, too.**And I’m sure plenty of people would rather die than spend eight hours a day in a museum. Hence our society’s slow descent to hell in a handbag. Whatever.
So I’ve spent a significant amount of time learning how the Smithsonian workers make plants look so lifelike, mount snowboards, and install a triceratops. Phenomenal.
Wait, I’ve just clicked on a blog about food and culture. Smithsonian, you saucy minx!
* I am using synechdoche here, in which a part represents the whole. I, of all people, realize that there is more than one Smithsonian Museum.
** To varying degrees. It’s not like you ever see James Bond teaching a lit class.