To begin, yes, I’m that Annie. But I go by Anne now. One of my classmates at Cornell introduced me to hair straighteners and, after some intense work with a speech therapist, I’ve mostly stopped spontaneously breaking out into song.

(Clears throat)

So, um, when Google asked me to give a motivational speech, I thought, What could I possibly talk about? I mean, sure, I sang that song about the sun coming out tomorrow, but nowadays I need a Zoloft prescription just to get me through a partly cloudy day.

(Laughs nervously)

I’m kidding. I mean, not about the Zoloft — you’ll have to pry that out of my cold dead hands! Anyway. My speech is called “Tomorrow: It’s Only a Day Away.” Get it? Of course you get it. You’re Google. You’re the thing other people go to when they don’t get it. So this should be fun, right? Not “renting out an entire movie theatre to impress the woman you want to sleep with and her weird orphan”-fun. But still fun.

So today I’ll be talking about staying motivated at work. So, uh, unless there are any questions, let’s get started.

(A hand goes up)

Yes?… Ma’am, you’ll have to speak a little louder… Oh, apparently, she wants to know why Mr. Bundles didn’t notice I was in the laundry cart! Good question. Not technically about staying motivated, but that’s fine. I bribed him. Mr. Bundles isn’t an idiot. Don’t you think he would say “Hey, that’s weird. The laundry is, at minimum, 65 pounds heavier than it usually is”? Of course he would. So I saved all the money I made in the orphan gambling ring and gave it to Mr. Bundles to sneak me out.

Now, let’s get started. Motivation, as you all know, is a key element in making work feel less like a job and more like….

(Another hand)

I’m sorry, what?… Why did FDR get involved in the whole thing when he probably had a lot of other things going on? Sir, this is supposed to be about… alright, fine. Originally there was a song in Act 1 called “Hey Shouldn’t You Be Paying a Little More Attention To That Hitler Guy Instead of Worrying About An Adoption Case?” sung by FDR’s cabinet, but it was cut for time. Happy?

Now do you guys have any questions about staying motivated? Anyone want to know some productivity tips, ‘cause I googled… I’m sorry, are you offended when I use it as a verb? Oh, good. I googled like a hundred productivity tips before I got here today just to get ready for this talk. Did you know that there are seventeen different ways to use Post-It notes? Interesting, right?


Alright fine, lady in the back? You look like you’re dying to jump in here… Ah, yes, the thing everybody asks eventually: “Did Grace and Daddy Warbucks stay together?”

No. Of course they didn’t stay together. He’s a middle-aged balding billionaire who likes being called “Daddy” and she’s his perky, much younger secretary. How long do you think it lasted? Here’s a hint: Not much longer than that reprise of “Tomorrow” that I sang with FDR. Mr. President, for the love of God, stop focusing on the harmonies and start saving some Jews, amiright!?


Fun fact, people — and you can’t google this one: Grace caught Mr. Warbucks sleeping with Annette, got a lawyer, and sued the pants off him for a hostile work environment. You might remember Annette as the woman who “comes into make your bed. The silk sheets? No the satin ones I think.” Who picks satin sheets for a 10-year-old? A whore, that’s who. Why not also leave a bottle of lube and a radio playing “Let’s Get It On” on loop? Anyway, Grace had a fantastic lawyer and took Warbucks for millions. She even got joint custody of Punjab and took… I’m sorry what?

Look. I just wanted to come here, make a few bucks, and maybe give you some goddamn motivation tips that probably won’t work anyway. I dunno, make a to-do list. Freaking color code your files. Put some goddamn inspirational quotes on your goddamn copy machine. Whatever. But instead I get: “Do you and Sandy still hang out?” Sir, are you an idiot? Dogs live to be, what? Ten? Twelve? Sandy died three weeks after we filmed the last scene. We were on a budget. We didn’t do doggie surgeries or hide little pet antidepressants in lunch meat. Dog starts to cough, you put him down. Dog starts to bite the mailman, you put him down. Dog keeps focusing on a goddamn adoption case instead of the genocide that is obviously going on in Germany, you put him down!

(She looks around)

I’m sorry. That didn’t make sense. Could I get some water?

(Voice begins to shake)

All I want to say is, the sun might not come out. It might not come out tomorrow and it might not come out the next day and it might not come out ever again. And if you don’t think that’s true, then watch the movie musical about all the orphans who didn’t get adopted. You’ll get to hear catchy songs like “Grandma at 33” and “Just One More Handjob Till I Can Pay the Electric Bill.” That one’s a tap number! NOW GET ME SOME GODDAMN WATER!

(She grabs a water bottle from one of the audience members, reaches into her pocket and grabs a pill. She puts the pill in her mouth and takes a swig of water.)

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I thought I was ready for this.

(She gathers herself and begins to quietly sing)

When I’m stuck with a day that’s gray and lonely. I just stick up my chin and grin and say, ohhhh

(The audience joins in one by one)

The sun’ll come out tomorrow. So you gotta hang on till tomorrow — come what may


Toooooommorrow! Tomorrow! I love ya, tomorrow! You’re always a day away.