Okay. Enough already. I love you, New York Times, but you are killing me with articles like this, this, and this.
I'm going to put it out there. I am 27. I turned 27 last month and for the past 5 years I have had to endure an onslaught of overdramatic articles about the dire state of my generation. Some haven't been awful, but many are borderline attacks under the guise of cultural research. We are listless wanderers who don't know how to work hard and we can't find $50,000 jobs after completing our undergraduate degrees because we are lazy, unambitious sacks of garbage. I am terrible with my finances and I want to start a band and pretend that the "real world" doesn't exist because I am obsessed with finding my bliss. I am spoiled and directionless, buried in debt. My only option is to move to Williamsburg or move back home with my parents, where they will continue to coddle me with their bland suburban frittatas while I whine about my band and my finances. There is no way I could be a person with a Master's Degree who works 6 days a week at 2 jobs and gets underpaid at both.
This of course has nothing to do with the state of our economy. Or perhaps the fact that certain baby boomers refuse to retire. Or the growing number of graduates at post-secondary institutions. Or! Oh, or! That businesses are exploiting free labour by hiring graduates desperate for experience! Or, I don't know, the province that you live in just cut the industry that you work in by 92%, or that age discrimination is a legitimate reason to pay you less. Also, the world is like, totally ending.
I know, I know. My generation does suck in many ways. We've got a lot of useless jerks hanging around, working as laboratory specimens or being full-time server/bartenders at 3-star restaurants. But can you stop talking about us like we're all lazy sacks of garbage? I don't get paid enough to deal with this. Also? I already have an Asian mom to make me feel bad about my successes. I don't need this.