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couldn’t wrap my head around it. I mean, the whole thing was designed to make me look like a fool. Hadn’t these people played Oregon Trail ? You never start in October, like I had. I was living in fear that I’d inspire some fool to follow in my fake footsteps.
    Even worse, the word “fraud” hadn’t occurred to me when I’d conceived of the idea, but if people’s opinions of me were improving solely because of a lie I was telling, what else could I call it? Whenever I gave it some thought, I felt like I was a terrible person—so I tried not to think about it.
    But while the support from everyone outside the joke was crippling, the support from the insiders was intoxicating. Most of the people who knew what I was actually doing—Ted, Steve, Joe—loved it. They celebrated it. They admired it. And when I asked them to pitch in, they jumped at the chance. I needed critics to counteract all the good vibes people were sending me, and giving my oldest friends permission to make fun of me—without consequence—was an opportunity they relished. 2
    Even my bizarre all-staff email to a largely confused office bore some fruit. One senior staff member really got into the hoax. In fact, her fake Facebook reprimand added a certain credibility to the project:
    Claire Burke → Dave Cicirelli
    I thought this whole trek thing was a joke, but I called into the senior staff meeting today and they told me you’re really gone. What the hell?!
    So unprofessional. I have FIVE projects I was waiting on you for. Now I find out that the rest of the team are scrambling to make up for the work you just dropped. Not cool, Dave. You know we appreciate the whole artistic and creative mojo stuff—that’s why we hired you—but you can’t just decide to leave one day and…really leave!
    Come back to NY ASAP and we’ll figure something out. I’ll work with the partners to present a case of stress-related something-or-other and you’ll get your job back. Maybe we can work out a sabbatical next summer or something. I mean, really. You should have told me about this before you just flew the coop. Call me!!
    Gina Lopez → Mary Carroll
    I just realized Dave seriously just packed his crap and left. I thought he was joking. My favorite post was the lady he worked with yelling at him on his wall lol. Get him on Nancy Grace or something already!
    My audience’s respect for what I’d claimed to do was crashing into my collaborators’ respect for my claiming to have done it. I was barely able to contain the weird mixture of excitement, amusement, guilt, fear, embarrassment, and uncertainty I felt, and I found it difficult to explain myself to anyone, let alone a complete stranger in a coffee shop.
    â€œOh, this…” I stammered. “I’m photoshopping a drunk girl passed out at the feet of Ben Franklin.”
    She looked totally baffled.
    â€œâ€¦Why?”
    â€œBecause it’s funny?”
    She didn’t quite give me the fawning reaction I’d hoped for, so I tried again. “I’m doing this thing on Facebook—like, I’m pretending to live another life, and I have people believing it’s true, and…” I was talking faster and faster, simultaneously manic and meek, unable to communicate the emotional and intellectual depth of this half-finished photo of an inebriated barfly at the feet of a founding father. I could see her eyes start to shift from curiosity to discomfort, as each attempt at clarity made me sound more and more mentally unstable.
    Fortunately, my phone rang.
    â€œI have to take this…” I didn’t have to. “Do you mind just keeping an eye on my stuff while I step outside? I don’t want to be ‘that guy on his cell phone,’ you know?”
    â€œSure, no problem.” As I walked out onto Ludlow Street, she went back to her table and sat down with the latest issue of