It Be My Great Fortuna! Hot Girl in My Marketing Class Says She Supports Labor

As a history student with a dual concentration in intellectual history and economic history and a forthcoming magnum opus on the history of female Marxists, I thought it would only be prudent to take a marketing class in Wharton. As Amy Wax will tell you, writing off your enemies lowers you down to their phenotype. We couldn’t have that! 

Thus far, the marketing class has had little to no impact on me. I still get zero likes on my Instagram posts, even when I spend many hours crafting long, reflective captions on Marxism, homemade stew, and mutual aid to accompany my equally laborious monologue videos. Although my professor claims to have been the chief marketing officer at a very successful online videocam company, I fail to understand how it is at all conscionable to encourage consenting and non-consenting adults alike to use a website that is detrimental to their health. In the larger scheme, taking one Wharton course has not altered my ardent stance on the vices of capitalism. It seems that I will never abandon my pristine Marxist values, even despite my mother’s constant nagging that the hammer and sickle tattoo I have on my face will keep me unemployed for life. What my mother doesn’t understand is that this is precisely the kismet that Herr Marx would bestow me. 

Might I add that I abhor the term “class.”

To say that this marketing class has been all bad would be a deviation from the truth. Although I am unaccustomed to not putting all of my effort (alas, capitalism) into my coursework (sigh, work), my marketing class has taught me to focus on other pursuits. Namely the exploitation of women. While I wholeheartedly condemn the exploitation of laborers, I believe that the bourgeoisie may be able to scratch their exploitative itch through women. 

On the first day of class, a girl wearing all gray (exact Maoist regalia) sat 40 degrees due east of me. Her plain garb enthralled me. Her mundane life story tantalized me. Her boring name (Margaret) enraptured me. Her short fingernails and mannish hands grabbed me. Margaret was my soulcomrade. 

After leaving class, I immediately messaged in the Marxists of Penn #general Slack channel and asked that the members give me their dialectics on this Margaret and the prospect of our eternal union as comrades of the Marxist, socialist, Maoist state of Upper Darby. They instructed me to give her the test of labor. Did she support it?

Oh Herr Engels, Herr Marx, Chairman, Uncle Ho. I thank thee for my great fortuna. Margaret from Ohio does indeed support labor. 

Margaret, who lives in Ware, drinks a Pret latte every day. BOYCOTT STARBUCKS SUPPORT LABOR. Margaret, whose hair is sable brown, frequently asks about jobs in marketing. SHE HAS LABORERS TOP OF MIND. Margaret, whose waist size is a 2, took advantage of Labor Day sales and got a Keurig. NEED I SAY MORE? Finally, Margaret, who said that she’s apolitical on her Tinder profile, attended a Penn Dems BYO at an Italian restaurant downtown (in an ironic, Mussolini-esque way). COMMUNIST MANIFIESTA.

After passing the test, I invited Margaret to my marginal living situation at the Domus Apartments and cooked her a meal of brown bread and water. Upon closer inspection, I realized that her Maoist garb was actually House of Sunny. Perhaps, Margaret would educate me on the House of Margaret.