** This is about how many have either missed the boat or were mislead so they are somewhat lost!
The modern so-called cell fon - mass socialized media captured mainly millennials are attempting to right the boat which has been sinking. Much of this is due to the massive amount of advertising that is placed in front of the public each day.
Basically, it is far too much stuff out there for the population to actually evaluate and be able to use responsibly! There is way too many chooses and similar products or ideas to consider. Then throw in the mass marking - {mainly charge card} Delima things in life have become very near impossible to fathom or begin to fully understand.
Little wonder that millennials are behind the 8 ball?
==========
Why can’t I get this mundane stuff done? Because I’m burned out. Why am I burned out? Because I’ve internalized the idea that I should be working all the time. Why have I internalized that idea? Because everything and everyone in my life reinforced it — explicitly and implicitly — since I was young. Life has always been hard, but many millennials are unequipped to deal with the particular ways in which it’s become hard for us.
Many of the behaviors attributed to millennials are the behaviors of a specific subset of mostly white, mostly middle-class people born between 1981 and 1996. But even if you’re a millennial who didn’t grow up privileged, you’ve been impacted by the societal and cultural shifts that have shaped the generation. Our parents — a mix of young boomers and old Gen-Xers — reared us during an age of relative economic and political stability. As with previous generations, there was an expectation that the next one would be better off — both regarding health and finances — than the one that had come before.
But as millennials enter into mid-adulthood, that prognosis has been proven false. Financially speaking, most of us lag far behind where our parents were when they were our age. We have far less saved far less equity, far less stability, and Ph.D., far more student debt. The “greatest generation” had the Depression and the GI Bill; boomers had the golden age of capitalism; Gen-X had deregulation and trickle-down economics. And millennials? We’ve got venture capital, but we’ve also got the 2008 financial crisis, the decline of the middle class and the rise of the 1%, and the steady decay of unions and stable, full-time employment.
As American business became more efficient, better at turning a profit, the next generation needed to be positioned to compete. We couldn’t just show up with a diploma and expect to get and keep a job that would allow us to retire at 55. In a marked shift from the generations before, millennials needed to optimize ourselves to be the very best workers possible.
Recent research has found that “vigilante” behaviors cut across race and class lines. Maybe an upper-class suburban family is invested in their child getting into an Ivy League school, while a mom in Philadelphia who didn’t get a chance to go to college herself is invested in her daughter becoming the first in the family to make it to college. The goals are somewhat different, but the supervision, the attitude, the risk assessment, and the campaign to get that child to that goal are very similar.
It wasn’t until after college that I began to see the results of those attitudes in action. Four years post-graduation, alumni would complain that the school had filled with nerds: No one even parties on a Tuesday! I laughed at the eternal refrain — These younger kids, what dorks, we were way cooler — but not until I returned to campus years later as a professor did I realize just how fundamentally different those students’ orientation to school was. There were still obnoxious frat boys and fancy sorority girls, but they were far more studious than my peers had been. They skipped fewer classes. They religiously attended office hours. They emailed at all hours. But they were also anxious grade grubbers, paralyzed at the thought of graduating, and regularly stymied by assignments that called for creativity. They’d been guided all their lives closely, and they wanted me to guide them as well. They were, in a word, scared.
Every graduating senior is scared, to some degree, of the future, but this was on a different level. When my class left our liberal arts experience, we scattered to temporary gigs: I worked at a dude ranch; another friend nannied for the summer; one got a job on a farm in New Zealand; others became raft guides and transitioned to ski instructors. We didn’t think our first job was outstanding; it was just a job and would eventually, meanderingly lead to The Job.
But these students were convinced that their first job out of college would not only determine their career trajectory but also their intrinsic value for the rest of their lives. I told one student, whose dozens of internship and fellowship applications yielded no results, that she should move somewhere fun, get any job, and figure out what interests her and what kind of work she doesn’t want to do — a suggestion that prompted wailing. “But what’ll I tell my parents?” she said. “I want a cool job I’m passionate about!”
Then living in a large city with a job, and college and car paid off :
Then those two years ended and the bulk of my friend group began the exodus to grad school. We enrolled in Ph.D. programs, law school, med school, architecture school, education master’s programs, MBAs. It wasn’t because we were hungry for more knowledge. It was because we were hungry for secure, middle-class jobs — and had been told, correctly or not, that those jobs were available only through grad school. Once we were in grad school, and the microgeneration behind us was emerging from college into the workplace, the 2008 financial crisis hit.
The crisis affected everyone in some way, but the way it changed millennials is foundational: It’s always defined our experience of the job market. More experienced workers and the newly laid-off filled applicant pools for lower- and entry-level jobs once largely reserved for recent graduates. We couldn’t find jobs, or could only find part-time jobs, jobs without benefits, or jobs that were actually multiple sides hustles cobbled together into one creation. As a result, we moved back home with our parents, we got roommates, we went back to school, we tried to make it work. We were problem solvers, after all — and taught that if we just worked harder, it would work out.
On the surface, it did work out. The economy recovered. Most of us moved out of our parents’ houses. We found jobs. But what we couldn’t get was financial security. Because education — grad school, undergrad, vocational school, online — was situated as the best and only way to survive, many of us emerged from those programs with loan payments that our post-graduation prospects failed to offset. The situation was even direr if you entered a for-profit school, where the average total debt for a four-year degree is $39,950, and the job prospects post-graduation are even bleaker.
As I continued through grad school, I accumulated more and more debt — debt that I rationalized, like so many of my generation, as the only means to achieve the end goal of 1) a “good” job that would 2) be or sound cool and 3) allow me to follow my “passion.” In this case, full-time, tenure-track employment as a media studies professor. In the past, pursuing a Ph.D. was a generally debt-free endeavor: Academics worked their way toward their degree while working as teaching assistants, which paid the cost of living and remitted the cost of tuition.
That model began to shift in the 1980s, particularly at public universities forced to compensate for state budget cuts. Teaching assistant labor was far cheaper than paying for a tenured professor, so the universities didn’t just keep Ph.D. programs, but expanded them, even with dwindling funds to adequately pay those students. Still, thousands of PhD students clung to the idea of a tenure-track professorship. And the tighter the academic market became, the harder we worked. We didn’t try to break the system since that’s not how we’d been raised. We tried to win it.
I never thought the system was equitable. I knew it was winnable for only a small few.
I just believed I could continue to optimize myself to become one of them. And it’s taken me years to understand the need ramifications of that mindset. I’d worked hard in college, but as an old millennial, the expectations for labor were tempered. We liked to say we worked hard, played hard — and there were clear boundaries around each of those activities. Grad school, then, is where I learned to work like a millennial, which is to say, all the time. My new watchword was “Everything that’s good is bad, everything that’s bad is good”: Things that should’ve felt good (leisure, not working) felt bad because I felt guilty for not working; things that should’ve felt “bad” (working all the time) felt good because I was doing what I thought I should and needed to be doing in order to succeed.
In my master’s program, graduate students’ labor was arguably exploited, but we were unionized and compensated in a way that made emerging from the program without debt possible. Our health insurance was solid; class sizes were manageable. But that all changed in my Ph.D. program in Texas — a “right to work” state, where unions, if they existed at all, have no bargaining power. I was paid enough to cover a month’s rent in Austin with $200 left for everything else. I taught classes as large as 60 students on my own. The only people in my cohort who didn’t have to take out loans had partners in “real” jobs or family money; most of us were saddled with debt for the privilege of preparing ourselves for no job prospects. Either we kept working or we failed.
So we took those loans, with the assurance from the federal government that if, after graduation, we went to a public service field (such as teaching at a college or university) and paid a percentage of our loans on time for 10 years, the rest would be forgiven. Last year — the first in which eligible graduates could apply for forgiveness — just 1% of applications were accepted.
When we talk about millennial student debt, we’re not just talking about the payments that keep millennials from participating in American “institutions” like home ownership or purchasing diamonds. It’s also about the psychological toll of realizing that something you’d been told, and came to believe yourself, would be “worth it” — worth the loans, worth the labor, worth all that self-optimization — isn’t.
One thing that makes that realization sting, even more, is watching others live their seemingly cool, passionate, worthwhile lives online. We all know what we see on Facebook or Instagram isn’t “real,” but that doesn’t mean we don’t judge ourselves against it. I find that millennials are far less jealous of objects or belongings on social media than the holistic experiences represented there, the sort of thing that prompts people to comment, I want your life. That enviable mix of leisure and travel, the accumulation of pets and children, the landscapes inhabited and the food consumed seems not just desirable, but balanced, satisfied, and unafflicted by burnout.
And though work itself is rarely pictured, it’s always there. Periodically, it’s photographed as a space that’s fun or zany, and always rewarding or gratifying. But most of the time, it’s the thing you’re getting away from You worked hard enough to enjoy life.
=========
** While this is not the complete article - it is an overview which hits the main problem or the true situation of many Millennials today! Depressed delusional and in some cases finally learning the landscape as it were.
Much of the problems with the Millennials is they were not taught to just work and seek the best way to exist in the society. They were led to believe the " System - Government ' would save them. But little did they realize that for every dollar given by the system a pound of flesh was required!
This is what you should expect in the over the top-selling marketplace of Today! Push, expand and glamorize all things to be desired mainly by the young!
The modern so-called cell fon - mass socialized media captured mainly millennials are attempting to right the boat which has been sinking. Much of this is due to the massive amount of advertising that is placed in front of the public each day.
Basically, it is far too much stuff out there for the population to actually evaluate and be able to use responsibly! There is way too many chooses and similar products or ideas to consider. Then throw in the mass marking - {mainly charge card} Delima things in life have become very near impossible to fathom or begin to fully understand.
Little wonder that millennials are behind the 8 ball?
==========
How Millennials Became The Burnout Generation
From: Buzz Feed News
{Selective edited for this blog}Why can’t I get this mundane stuff done? Because I’m burned out. Why am I burned out? Because I’ve internalized the idea that I should be working all the time. Why have I internalized that idea? Because everything and everyone in my life reinforced it — explicitly and implicitly — since I was young. Life has always been hard, but many millennials are unequipped to deal with the particular ways in which it’s become hard for us.
Many of the behaviors attributed to millennials are the behaviors of a specific subset of mostly white, mostly middle-class people born between 1981 and 1996. But even if you’re a millennial who didn’t grow up privileged, you’ve been impacted by the societal and cultural shifts that have shaped the generation. Our parents — a mix of young boomers and old Gen-Xers — reared us during an age of relative economic and political stability. As with previous generations, there was an expectation that the next one would be better off — both regarding health and finances — than the one that had come before.
But as millennials enter into mid-adulthood, that prognosis has been proven false. Financially speaking, most of us lag far behind where our parents were when they were our age. We have far less saved far less equity, far less stability, and Ph.D., far more student debt. The “greatest generation” had the Depression and the GI Bill; boomers had the golden age of capitalism; Gen-X had deregulation and trickle-down economics. And millennials? We’ve got venture capital, but we’ve also got the 2008 financial crisis, the decline of the middle class and the rise of the 1%, and the steady decay of unions and stable, full-time employment.
As American business became more efficient, better at turning a profit, the next generation needed to be positioned to compete. We couldn’t just show up with a diploma and expect to get and keep a job that would allow us to retire at 55. In a marked shift from the generations before, millennials needed to optimize ourselves to be the very best workers possible.
Recent research has found that “vigilante” behaviors cut across race and class lines. Maybe an upper-class suburban family is invested in their child getting into an Ivy League school, while a mom in Philadelphia who didn’t get a chance to go to college herself is invested in her daughter becoming the first in the family to make it to college. The goals are somewhat different, but the supervision, the attitude, the risk assessment, and the campaign to get that child to that goal are very similar.
It wasn’t until after college that I began to see the results of those attitudes in action. Four years post-graduation, alumni would complain that the school had filled with nerds: No one even parties on a Tuesday! I laughed at the eternal refrain — These younger kids, what dorks, we were way cooler — but not until I returned to campus years later as a professor did I realize just how fundamentally different those students’ orientation to school was. There were still obnoxious frat boys and fancy sorority girls, but they were far more studious than my peers had been. They skipped fewer classes. They religiously attended office hours. They emailed at all hours. But they were also anxious grade grubbers, paralyzed at the thought of graduating, and regularly stymied by assignments that called for creativity. They’d been guided all their lives closely, and they wanted me to guide them as well. They were, in a word, scared.
Every graduating senior is scared, to some degree, of the future, but this was on a different level. When my class left our liberal arts experience, we scattered to temporary gigs: I worked at a dude ranch; another friend nannied for the summer; one got a job on a farm in New Zealand; others became raft guides and transitioned to ski instructors. We didn’t think our first job was outstanding; it was just a job and would eventually, meanderingly lead to The Job.
But these students were convinced that their first job out of college would not only determine their career trajectory but also their intrinsic value for the rest of their lives. I told one student, whose dozens of internship and fellowship applications yielded no results, that she should move somewhere fun, get any job, and figure out what interests her and what kind of work she doesn’t want to do — a suggestion that prompted wailing. “But what’ll I tell my parents?” she said. “I want a cool job I’m passionate about!”
Then living in a large city with a job, and college and car paid off :
Then those two years ended and the bulk of my friend group began the exodus to grad school. We enrolled in Ph.D. programs, law school, med school, architecture school, education master’s programs, MBAs. It wasn’t because we were hungry for more knowledge. It was because we were hungry for secure, middle-class jobs — and had been told, correctly or not, that those jobs were available only through grad school. Once we were in grad school, and the microgeneration behind us was emerging from college into the workplace, the 2008 financial crisis hit.
The crisis affected everyone in some way, but the way it changed millennials is foundational: It’s always defined our experience of the job market. More experienced workers and the newly laid-off filled applicant pools for lower- and entry-level jobs once largely reserved for recent graduates. We couldn’t find jobs, or could only find part-time jobs, jobs without benefits, or jobs that were actually multiple sides hustles cobbled together into one creation. As a result, we moved back home with our parents, we got roommates, we went back to school, we tried to make it work. We were problem solvers, after all — and taught that if we just worked harder, it would work out.
On the surface, it did work out. The economy recovered. Most of us moved out of our parents’ houses. We found jobs. But what we couldn’t get was financial security. Because education — grad school, undergrad, vocational school, online — was situated as the best and only way to survive, many of us emerged from those programs with loan payments that our post-graduation prospects failed to offset. The situation was even direr if you entered a for-profit school, where the average total debt for a four-year degree is $39,950, and the job prospects post-graduation are even bleaker.
As I continued through grad school, I accumulated more and more debt — debt that I rationalized, like so many of my generation, as the only means to achieve the end goal of 1) a “good” job that would 2) be or sound cool and 3) allow me to follow my “passion.” In this case, full-time, tenure-track employment as a media studies professor. In the past, pursuing a Ph.D. was a generally debt-free endeavor: Academics worked their way toward their degree while working as teaching assistants, which paid the cost of living and remitted the cost of tuition.
That model began to shift in the 1980s, particularly at public universities forced to compensate for state budget cuts. Teaching assistant labor was far cheaper than paying for a tenured professor, so the universities didn’t just keep Ph.D. programs, but expanded them, even with dwindling funds to adequately pay those students. Still, thousands of PhD students clung to the idea of a tenure-track professorship. And the tighter the academic market became, the harder we worked. We didn’t try to break the system since that’s not how we’d been raised. We tried to win it.
I never thought the system was equitable. I knew it was winnable for only a small few.
I just believed I could continue to optimize myself to become one of them. And it’s taken me years to understand the need ramifications of that mindset. I’d worked hard in college, but as an old millennial, the expectations for labor were tempered. We liked to say we worked hard, played hard — and there were clear boundaries around each of those activities. Grad school, then, is where I learned to work like a millennial, which is to say, all the time. My new watchword was “Everything that’s good is bad, everything that’s bad is good”: Things that should’ve felt good (leisure, not working) felt bad because I felt guilty for not working; things that should’ve felt “bad” (working all the time) felt good because I was doing what I thought I should and needed to be doing in order to succeed.
In my master’s program, graduate students’ labor was arguably exploited, but we were unionized and compensated in a way that made emerging from the program without debt possible. Our health insurance was solid; class sizes were manageable. But that all changed in my Ph.D. program in Texas — a “right to work” state, where unions, if they existed at all, have no bargaining power. I was paid enough to cover a month’s rent in Austin with $200 left for everything else. I taught classes as large as 60 students on my own. The only people in my cohort who didn’t have to take out loans had partners in “real” jobs or family money; most of us were saddled with debt for the privilege of preparing ourselves for no job prospects. Either we kept working or we failed.
So we took those loans, with the assurance from the federal government that if, after graduation, we went to a public service field (such as teaching at a college or university) and paid a percentage of our loans on time for 10 years, the rest would be forgiven. Last year — the first in which eligible graduates could apply for forgiveness — just 1% of applications were accepted.
When we talk about millennial student debt, we’re not just talking about the payments that keep millennials from participating in American “institutions” like home ownership or purchasing diamonds. It’s also about the psychological toll of realizing that something you’d been told, and came to believe yourself, would be “worth it” — worth the loans, worth the labor, worth all that self-optimization — isn’t.
One thing that makes that realization sting, even more, is watching others live their seemingly cool, passionate, worthwhile lives online. We all know what we see on Facebook or Instagram isn’t “real,” but that doesn’t mean we don’t judge ourselves against it. I find that millennials are far less jealous of objects or belongings on social media than the holistic experiences represented there, the sort of thing that prompts people to comment, I want your life. That enviable mix of leisure and travel, the accumulation of pets and children, the landscapes inhabited and the food consumed seems not just desirable, but balanced, satisfied, and unafflicted by burnout.
And though work itself is rarely pictured, it’s always there. Periodically, it’s photographed as a space that’s fun or zany, and always rewarding or gratifying. But most of the time, it’s the thing you’re getting away from You worked hard enough to enjoy life.
=========
** While this is not the complete article - it is an overview which hits the main problem or the true situation of many Millennials today! Depressed delusional and in some cases finally learning the landscape as it were.
Much of the problems with the Millennials is they were not taught to just work and seek the best way to exist in the society. They were led to believe the " System - Government ' would save them. But little did they realize that for every dollar given by the system a pound of flesh was required!
This is what you should expect in the over the top-selling marketplace of Today! Push, expand and glamorize all things to be desired mainly by the young!
No comments:
Post a Comment