Pay Your Dues

I came across a silly article in a silly magazine, written by a silly millennial-type young person on a silly topic: bewailing the often dire financial condition of your average millenium-type young person.

Silly, silly.

Looka here, kid: you’re supposed to be poor right now. It’s the way it works. You can’t think worth a damn, you have no experience, and nobody in his or her right managerial mind would trust you with anything but the most trivial responsibilities. You’re not worth paying anything at the moment so even minimum wage is tantamount to public charity. After you’ve learned to think adequately, picked up some actual life and work experience—that’s not just calendar age and a listing of minimum-wage jobs, kid—then we’ll consider the possibility of removing you from the shallow end of the salary pool.

Ergo, shut up and fix me a double cappuccino. And I want a butter croissant. Now. So move it, junior. And don’t throw me any adolescent attitude, either.

The commentarial sob sisters commonly accuse the latest crop of young’uns as being shallow, narcissistic, self-absorbed, and utterly clueless about personal worth. The young often seem that way to grownups, but this time around the charges just might hold up in court. As a college professor, I am in constant contact with the latest generation. This one impresses me as being shallow, narcissistic, self-absorbed, and utterly clueless about personal worth. As I age I become increasingly less willing to point out the obvious to them, such as: just because you think you’re special and extraordinary doesn’t mean that you’re going to get straight As just for showing up. In fact, consider yourself lucky to get a C-. Hell, consider yourself lucky to pass at all, because some of you aren’t going to. That’s going to be a horrible shock. You’re going to blame me. You’re going to blame the system. You’re going to blame, oh I don’t know, the Dalai Lama.

But here’s the plain, unvarnished truth: you might be fun to look at, but that’s about all you have to offer right now. Thus Western civilization has made the decision that it will price your prettiness at market value—i.e., a cheap commodity easily acquired and even more easily replaced—and wait until you have something more than bone structure and quick reflexes to offer. So you’re going to be poor. Dirt poor. Minimum wage poor. And that’s just fine and dandy, right and proper, hunky and dory. That which does not kill you makes you stronger, and right now you’re weak as water. You need slapping around. Your butt needs kicking. Your ego needs bruising.

Hey! Where’s my coffee??! Maybe you need firing as well, eh?

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