Sunday, January 12, 2014

Dear College Kids

Undergrads: I hope you chose a vocational school.  Please tell me you went in, preternaturally smart at eighteen, and said, "I'm going to be a doctor!"  Please tell me you chose SOMETHING.  If you are in a liberal arts school, like my beloved alma mater, just hope they pass you a jug of lube along with your diploma, because you are going to be screwed for the foreseeable future. 

Grad students: Let's hope you picked smart when you went to undergrad, because the bills you are going to face when you get out will never get paid by the job you may or may not get when you finally re-enter the real world.  A degree in business will get you nothing anymore, expect something to hang on the wall of the hovel you can't afford to rent.  For many of you, you'll be at least 25, and may have never had a real job before.  You'll be the first to be eaten.

Our parents didn't have it like this.  If they went to college, they were guaranteed a job.  If they did that job, even passably well, they could keep that job for life, with the benefits, raises, and pension that came with it.  They were able to get married at 21, and buy a house, because of the security.  I've had my job for eight years.  If I stayed until I retired, I wouldn't have a pension.  I can't count on raises, and my benefits were sliced so bad you'd think they were part of a ginsu commercial.Ward and June Cleaver didn't have to worry that Wally and The Beav would be living with them until they died.  Wally probably looked at a college campus and was deemed smart enough by that glance to be a CEO, and Beaver was drafted by the Dodgers straight out of little league and was given 72 virgins as a draft bonus. 

Where does this leave us?  It leaves us as a generation that either got lucky and found a good job that pays well, or a bad job that pays something, or we had to move back home and live in extended adolescence.  You don't meet your future wife by bringing her back to mom and dad's house at  age thirty.  You get labeled a weirdo, and you spend your Friday nights at work, or watching whatever crazy antics Tim Allen has gotten into while eating cold Acme brand Mac and Cheez knockoff in your childhood living room.  That's how the Unabomber started, just an FYI.

Another gem to consider: if you can't even afford to rent an apartment, you will never be able to save enough to retire before you drop dead at you desk at work.  Companies now try to hire only part time, regardless of your skill level, so they don't have to pay benefits.  Should you have gone to grad school and amassed that debt, no amount of part time work will alleviate that.

Somehow, those my age and younger, the world decided to hit the reset button on us.  There's no playbook anymore on how to be successful, how to be happy, and how to make a life for yourself.  Everyone whose parents aren't funneling them money is thrown into a pit and told to fight until you either win or lose.  Most of us are losers. 

So, if you just got back to campus for that final semester, please enjoy yourself.  Drink, hang out with your friends, and just have fun.

It's bad out here, and I'm not sure it's ever going to get better. 

7 comments:

  1. As a 30 year old who recently moved back in with her parents and possibly (definitely) spent Friday night alternating between explaining to her father why she hates Lena Dunham and asking him (semi-rhetorically) why she didn't go to school for HVAC repair, this resonates with me.

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    1. Little known fact, tonight's article started as "Dear Lena Dunham" but I got so angry after the first paragraph I ditched it. I do think I hate her more than I hate any person I actually know.

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    2. I decided to watch Girls last spring since everyone kept telling me I would love it. I got about halfway through the first season when my roommate came home and asked me if I was ok. I looked up and suddenly realized I was in a blanket fort on my couch, eating a piece of quiche with my bare hands, and screaming, "Fuck you Lena Dunham!" at the computer. I don't even know where the quiche came from.

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    3. I think I might love you, Natalie.

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    4. You had me at "I do think I hate her."

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  2. In high school I asked my dad if I could take vocational classes to learn to be an electrician, but was refused on the grounds that you need a degree to do anything with your life. I now have $50,000 in student loan debt, no degree and am working as an electrician.

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    1. It would have worked that way for him. College now seems like a four year long pseudo intellectual camp that in no way prepares you for real life.

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