After getting laid off at my job in media, I’m thrilled to announce that I’m taking this time and my trust fund to pursue my real dream — creating a tastefully decorated coworking space and opium den for millennials.
It will combine my passions for interior design, opiates, and surrounding myself with male writers constantly under the influence who expect me to wait on them hand and foot.
Think about it — millennials have resigned themselves to coworking spaces that try to mitigate the crushing weight of the gig economy with Scandinavian design elements and IPAs on tap. Punctuated with false cheer demanding you “respect the hustle” as if working four jobs is a point of pride rather than a necessity.
At my establishment, there will be no capitalist false gods, no margarita machines. No threats about our “working better together.” No “death before decaf” because that’s a reminder of our own fleeting mortality.
Instead, there will be luxe surroundings; a respite from your three-bedroom apartment in Bushwick with too many Tinder randoms coming through for one bathroom.
Picture plush, hedonistic seating. Velvet banquettes, floor pillows that don’t resemble bean bag chairs and a complete lack of Edison bulbs. Oriental rugs and silk tapestries. Hell, even fainting couches. It will be the literal soft landing while performing your Sisyphean feat of updating your employer’s social media platforms with “disruptive” content.
Plus, what better lubricant for networking than opiates? Fintech, media, and freelancers from all walks of life will come together and maintain lasting bonds that they’ll probably forget about within two hours, which is the optimal amount of time that finance and media should interact.
Most importantly, there will be no neon signs telling you to do what you love, because you don’t need a condescending fixture giving you an existential crisis. Instead, you’ll be lounging and smoking while working on your laptop, surrounded by other degenerates who also made the Forbes’ 30 under 30 list. Because you can’t throw a Bud Light at a sports bar in Manhattan without hitting one.
While my establishment won’t be able to help with your lack of health insurance or student loan woes, this safe space is meant to enable the digitally lost generation with the best they can get — an Instagrammable aesthetic.
Membership dues via cryptocurrency will not be accepted.