Talking 'bout my Generation

Warning: I may or may not be cranky AF in this post. There is more than one way to skin a cat (thanks, Boomers, for that one), and my views on this topic can swing depending on context, but  for today it's all the rage.

Today at work came up yet another conversation about those damn "millennials." I'm in marketing, so this is a frequent topic, as millennials are a hot commodity for advertisers. If you can "hook em young," you get the coveted "brand loyalty" that will pay out for years to come.

BUT no one can agree on who exactly this group is, or what age range it includes. Some say those born between 1980 and 2000. Others break that into Gen Y and Gen Z. If the range is that wide, then anyone age 36 to 16 is getting clumped together. And we're allllll getting pigeon-holed into the same frickin' stereotypes (so quit being so snooty, Gen Y, we're all in this together).

So, when I commented that what we were really targeting for marketing purposes (young moms) was the "older millennials" - it was like I'd shot each Gen X and Boomer in the room straight in the face. OLD?! How dare I! Typical youth, being ridiculous! They got so hung up on the word "old" that they didn't get my point -- that the "millennial" generation isn't just one small group, and more importantly, it's not as simply defined as their countless conferences would have them believe.*

Here's where I get a bit ranty...

The one thing I think all millennials agree on - we hate fucking being called millennials. The word comes with a negative connotation (created by the media) of being lazy, entitled sheep, herding toward the latest social media craze. If the label is bad, the images are worse. As a friend of mine put it: they can call us whatever they want, as long as they stop pinning up Lena Dunham** as a stock photo for our generation.

Sure, every generation feels "misunderstood" at some point. And while stereotypes are often rooted in some form of truth, that truth is sometimes found via only a small sample size. Putting that aside, let me bitch about a few 'leading definitions' of my generation for a minute here:

1. Delayed rights of passage. They call us the Peter Pan generation. Not just because we all love the movie Hook, but because we "won't" grow up. As if we purposely refuse. Well guess what, it's hard to grow up when you graduate in a recession and can't get a job. We didn't break the market, we were just kids. Those who came before us shot the economy in the face and then blamed us for moving back home. We wanted so desperately not to that we all eventually accepted jobs with horrid pay so we could spend that pittance on overpriced apartments to prove we could make it. Which lead to...
2. Debt issues. Yep, the price of higher education and interest rates on student loans decided to skyrocket. So when we came out into that recession, we came carrying the weight of thousands of dollars in debt on our backs. Oh yeah, and those shitty jobs have set us up to make less money over our lifetimes. Because when you get a pay raise on dirt, you just get slightly more dirt. And unless you live in Waterworld, that really doesn't help you out. But of course, the real reason we're poor is because we're just....
3. Lazy bastards with side gigs who spend all their money on smart phones. AKA we have to work two or three jobs just to pay rent and minimum payments on our loans. And the only light of hope while we work 60 hour work weeks (salaried at $30k a year) is to have some escapism via the tiny technology we carry in our pockets that connects us to the world and which we rely on for our...
4. Social media obsession. Since our lives are frequently rubbish, we live vicariously through the "me-myself-and-my-fabulous-friends-and-adventures" stars of the Youtubes and blogosphere that we mindlessly scroll through (while sitting on the toilet, which is really our only downtime since we're busy with all those side gigs). We "consume video" because videos allow us to multitask so we can have both escapism and enough time to do the dishes. We also spend countless hours curating our own online presence to display the version of ourselves that will get us the most likes, because we constantly need...
5. Instant Gratification. Unlike generations before, almost everything now is more measurable. We can tell if people approve of our ideas based on the statistics on social media. We don't have to guess, we know. Technology feeds us all the data we need to be happy about our place in the world, or to feel like a total loser on a clear scale that's not just in our heads. And technology will always tell us because...
6. Technology and us grew up together. We were in the cradle with computers and cell phones. We started school when computers started showing up in homes. We went to high school with floppy disks in our pockets. I got my first cell phone when I went away to college, and my first laptop only when I went to study abroad. I still don't have a smartphone, but I spend half my workday discussing device rendering issues for our website - because I can.
   

   

   Whose bright idea was this??

   Because technology and us have been BFFs for years. We grew up awkwardly together: braces, bruises, buzzy dial-up and all.  We feel like access to information is a right, even if that sounds a bit....
7. Entitled. We grew up in a world with freedom of information, and we're not going backwards and accepting anything less.
   
   Do we feel entitled about getting a promotion at work? NO, but we feel like we should get one when we've earned it. Why? Because a bunch of Boomer parents put the doe-eyed notion in our heads that if we WORKED HARD and stayed positive, and showed off our talents, and all the things that made us bright little stars, that we WOULD be able to excel. Hard work, dedication. Be kind, rewind. Go to college and get a job. You filled us with a false idea that at graduation, we'd receive diplomas and jobs, just like that.
   
   And then we walked out into the world, with stars in our eyes and ambition in our souls, with a drive to make the world a better place... and most of us got knocked flat on our asses. So we picked ourselves up and worked hard, just like we were told. We switched jobs because our work wasn't appreciated (unlike our parents, we don't want to just put up with being shit on by "the man" - we want some g'damn positive affirmation). We got shut down for ideas because things have "always been done" a different way. We kept working hard. And you know where it got us? Mostly, it just got us bitter.
   
   As we watched older people with less talent run the companies we worked for into the ground, powerless to move up and help. We reached out for mentors to guide us, we networked, we scrambled. Some took any job they could to try and stop living paycheck to paycheck. To the point where the only thing most of us feel entitled to now is our free time outside of work. If putting in the extra time isn't rewarded, we're not going to keep being indentured servants - we're going to squeeze every ounce out of our free time and make it as shiny as possible, because we DO feel entitled to the same happiness we see from those internet personalities. It's why we cover our tiny cube walls with bright motivational quotes - to remind us that there's life out there.
   
   We give up on changing the world.
   Just let us grow up to be unicorns and let's be done with it.

As it is, was, and always will be, the young don't have the benefits of wisdom and the old don't have the weightless optimism of youth. Older generations always point out something to bitch about when it comes to "those damn kids," just like the generation before bitched about them. Basically, we all just bitch at the youths because we want them to know better. But they never will. So, let us make our mistakes and lay off the judgement, because we're over it (AF).***

The internet gave this to me, because we're friends.

* Here is one of many decent articles about millennials. Go read this, not the other rubbish.
**Sidebar on Lena Dunham re: Girls. Not a single millennial I know can relate to the characters on that show. We all hate them because they give a bad name to our generation. I went into that show hoping I'd get some fellow youths to commiserate and empathize with, but I only grew to dislike each character more and more as time went by. They're awful; we are not like that... Except for the gay dads, we might have some gay dads. 
*** General disclaimer: I'm not living paycheck. I've finally almost paid off my $27,000 of student loan debt. I'm not just surviving, but am thriving - but that was after a lot of years of shit and struggle. A lot of my friends have finally come through the other side (now that we're all pushing 30), but many have not yet. We're not all the same, this whole article was just another set of stereotypes *shakes fist at the irony of it all - and the possible misuse of the word irony*

Rainy Days and Wednesdays

A little throwback to last Wednesday...because we all know how much I love the rain.

It had been raining intermittently throughout the day. Sometimes light rain, sometimes a sudden downpour, never consistent. The mood swings of Mother Nature played out, framed by the window I can see over my cube wall.

When quitting time arrived, however, the rain hit hurricane status. Forest Gump style, we're talking up-down-and-sideways rain. As I stood up from my cube and gazed out into the ominous darkness, I knew: no one was coming out of this dry.

At the door leading to the parking lot, several coworkers stood staring. Waiting for it to pass, they said. Ready to sprint during a lull. Codswallop, said I. One pointed out the large pooling areas of water, which I noted while quietly rolling one cuff on each pant leg. And then threw open the door and stepped out into the storm.

Seeing my daring, the coworkers all took charge of their own destiny and followed, recklessly, into the abyss. What they didn't wait to see is that five seconds into my purposeful stride, I was knee-deep in rushing water. Pushing forward, I realized the sewer drains in the parking lot were creating a current vortex that was impossible to avoid. The howl of the wind and the cries of my coworkers intermingled as shouts of, "You led us astray!" and "Damnit, Gina!" flew between the raindrops. I let out a shrieking, "I'm filled with regret!!" so they would all know that I cared - but that it was every man for themselves and I didn't give two hoots about anyone but me during this mad dash.

Sopping wet, I made it to my safe haven: the car.

In the car, on the road. Rush hour: cluster. Rush hour during a storm: double cluster. Two lanes stopped at a stop light. The left lane: filled with people who want to go straight, but are stuck behind the front two cars who just put their blinkers on to turn left. The right lane: technnnnicallllly a bike lane, filled with the a-holes who saw the blinkers flip on and zipped over to the right to go around the left turners who will be waiting the entire light, only to not end up turning left. (But who would be biking in the rain anyway, amiright?!)

Danger Zone, full blast, white knuckling it.

So there I was, in the right lane. Second car back. A risky spot, being so close to the gutter during a flash flood situation.

Wipers on full blast, I still almost didn't see it happen, but I could definitely hear it. Just before the light turned green, a huge gushing POP noise, the sound of metal on metal, as the sewer cover SHOT up and logged itself (who knows how) between the wheel well of the van in front of me and the gutter. The vehicle couldn't move.

The left laners shot past, laughing at how karma came back to bite the right lane asshats. I just sat, watching the scene play out. Two men who had been hiding out under a tree near the intersection (trapped in the storm) had seen what happened and rushed in to aid. Soon they were standing in two feet of gushing water, trying to dislodge the sewer cover. Drenched, they succeeded and the woman in the van sped off. These hero men then managed to get the cover back onto the sewer and sloshed their way back from whence they came. We all proceeded.

After an obnoxiously long, hydroplaning commute, I arrived to my own parking lot. Already soaked through, I gave myself a hot second to regroup and then bounded back out into the rain. My slow, silent stride through the downpour turned into a shit grin and an uncontrollable laugh as I realized that every car driving by (while waiting to cross the road) was probably looking at me, a wet rat in a blazer, and chuckling. So I laughed with them, and smiled the rest of the walk to my apartment, finally collapsing through the front door, in stitches.

Standing there were several people. Waiting for the rain to pass. Ready to sprint during a lull. As I burst through the doors, chortling, the by-standers looked me over, exchanging semi-alarmed looks. One pointedly commented "Damn, that sucks." To which I just smiled and said, "Better to enjoy the storm than to wait forever."

Seize the day, bitches. Even the rainy ones.

Wet rats of a feather, flock together...
and then spread bubonic plague!