What Do You Do?

How do you answer the question “What do you do?” It’s a decidedly quarterlife question. Until your mid-20s, most people go on the assumption that you are a student (an annoying assumption for those of us who didn’t take the collegiate route), and thus the question need not be asked. But during your post-graduate age, whenever you go out to parties, or bars, or leave your apartment at all, the question inevitably gets asked, “What do you do?”

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Zen Beer-ism

Sometimes inspiration comes when you least expect it. For example, last weekend I was at an Irish pub in upstate New York. The waitress had just brought an order of hot wings and another tall, frothy, cold beer. It was a dark amber ale with a good head and great body. Clear. Smooth. Rich. It was hypnotic, and I fell into its trance. The tiny bubbles floated to the top, each one like a little planet racing into outer space. Before long I was floating in the beer. I was swimming around the planets, giddy like a kid on Christmas morning. Okay, maybe I was a little drunk. But inspiration nonetheless struck, and my great realization came: beer is a metaphor for life.

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McJob

Written By: Allison Whalen

What came first, the job or the crisis? With the exception of the very rich, the particularly lucky, or those Bobby Fisher brainiac anomalies, most of us quarter-lifers don’t have much to brag about in the way of job experience. We’ve all done our fair share of empty-headed labour, whether selling over-priced, ill-fitting, cotton garments, dunking frozen potatoes into a grease-spattering tub, or answering a front-desk phone in a peppy, little voice that secretly wants to stab every caller with a sharp pencil. These types of work (and so many more) can be neatly categorized as “McJobs”, a term coined by the godfather of the quarter-life crisis, author Douglas Coupland. In Generation X, his sizzlin’, pink novel that swept multiple nations in the early nineties, Coupland describes the “McJob” as a “…low-pay, low-prestige, low-dignity, low-benefit, no-future job in the service sector. Frequently considered a satisfying career choice by people who have never held one.” Sound familiar?

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Experience is for Wussies

I’m not getting my MBA because I love business. I’m getting my MBA because it was easier than working. It’s not that I’m looking for an easy way through life- God knows that I sure haven’t been a slacker. The path to Managerial Accounting started when I tried to get a job. Educated at the Honors College of the Florida State System, the number 3 high school in the nation, and with some hard-core graduate work and internships I went into my search fairly cocky that I would find my dream job.

Six months later I was starting to rethink my, well, my everything. Why wasn’t anyone calling me? I had a resume (with a super cute template), experience in a variety of academic avenues, and even had some killer references. I started to look through the jobs and see if there was something I was missing. I noticed something. All the jobs I was applying for; marketing, administrative, research, warehouse forklift operator; required 3-5 years experience. Actually, 3-5 years experience OR an MBA. Well, I said to myself, “It would take me 2 years to get the MBA or I could have a crappy entry level job for five years.” So sign me up for deferred student loans and get me a Trapper Keeper- I’m a grad student. [Read more]

The Enjoyment of Unemployment

Slacker, underachiever, no-good, detriment to society, straight up loser; how could someone with any sense of value take pride in unemployment?…well I’ll tell you how.

I’m a twenty-five year old college graduate with a degree in Film and Television. Two years ago I walked across the Graduation stage and took a hold of that prestigious piece of paper. It was my greatest achievement to date (step aside ’93 Little League all-star appearance), and filled me with a sense of satisfaction and success. To be honest it made me a little giddy. I was light on my feet as I walked across the stage. It felt like a pair of hands lifted me across, guided me, and reassured me with their guidance that everything was going to be ok. It was an incredible feeling and one that I’ll never forget.

In six months time those same hands were back but with a little different feeling this time. Instead of lifting me across the stage they were slamming me…in the gut…over…and over…and over…and over. Yes, my bright and shining future had a $100,000 black cloud of debt looming overhead and there was/is nothing to do but take the punches and deal with it. [Read more]