Yupps and Downs

There is a place where the young professional runs ramped through the streets. They live amongst a jungle of skysraping structures and underground mazes that reach every little nook and cranny of the urban mecca. Where a cocktail can be purchased at any hour, and a delivery service can bring a mind-blowing, and sometimes disturbing array of products to one's doorstep. A homeland for all that is driven and power-hungry. A dreamland for every brave entrepreneur, wishing to capitalize on the drool dripping from the mouths of those thirsting to exhaust their lines of credit. Woken up by exorbitantly priced and complex alarm clocks, these corporate soldiers become ready for combat. With their caffeine ammunition and SmartPhone artillery they are ready to work tirelessly to prove that their degrees provide some sort of return, particularly a lack of sleep.

Welcome to the big city my fellow twenty-somethings. It's about that time for us to ditch our plastic Target bins and buy some actual furniture. Redeem our educations for some sort of salary and begin the rest of our lives as productive members of society. It's kind of exciting really, in an I'm-scared-to-death sort of way.

Yuppie is an acronym. It stands for Young Urban Professional Person and the word is synonymous with suits, money, and a slight negative connotation when utilized by anyone who works a blue collar or service job. Frankly, I can't really blame them. The people scuttling around the world's metropolises with their gadgets and briefcases are smug, high strung and judgmental. In fact, I will absolutely make sure that my children work in the service industry, just to develop a bit of character and the common decency not to yell at a waiter if they don't like their soup. Anyway, in an earlier post, Holly pointed out that she despised the pointed question of "what are you doing?" Well as I start participating in more activities inherent with this particular yuppie tribe, I am frequently asked, "what do you do?" This question explores several different personal inquiries that yuppies are fascinated by, including but not limited to, how much money one makes, how respective individual's career connections can enable their own, and if this specific someone threatens their own future business endeavors. To be quite honest, the last time I felt so judged was when my 6th grade girlfriends stopped letting me sit at their lunch table.

To prove that my maturity level has made significant progress since my days of wearing sparkly denim from Limited Too, my actions now will differ from those performed then. Instead of shying away and finding a different lunch table to sit at, I will step up to the plate and prove to Gretchen Weiners and her business card waving crew that I am capable of surviving in this concrete jungle, despite their judgey looks that pierce straight threw their expensive eyewear.

Up until now the corporate world has put me in a distressingly familiar place where I seem to find myself consistently: the friend zone. While I try not to complain, as this usually removes me from the punch line of jokes guys tell each other about their dating prospects (*again, please note I said usually), it does get a little old. Honestly gentlemen, it's great that I have a "great personality," and all, but the next person who feeds me this line will witness a reaction to rival America's when BP decided to tie dye the Gulf Coast. Like the men in my life, I feel like prospective employers speak to me with that same friendly demeanor. It's not me really... It's them. And like the men in my life, I just want to lash out at these companies and ask them to stop sugar coding their regret e-mails, with their encouraging statements and good luck wishes. Just tell me how it is, corporate America! Is it my liberal arts degree that turns you off? Is it the fact that I don't have enough experience?? I want to exclaim that I am an intelligent and capable woman! You want me to work 9-5? I'll be at the office by 8 and leave by 6. I want to tell them that I will be THE employee of their dreams!! Yet perhaps I will take my own grandmother's advice and trust that the right job/boy will come.

It is hard to complain about the fact that I still don't have a job because I have spent an ample amount of time at the swimming pool this summer. I'm really just soaking up the last drops of freedom before signing an offer that will disable the enjoyment of cocktails before noon forever. Yet as this summer-in-between is coming to an end, I'm finding that my desire to move on with my life-after-college is exponentially growing. While I have spent four years shuddering to myself thinking about 7 AM wake ups and long commutes on a suburban kids' death train (public transportation), I am now happily retiring my liquid dope pitchers and out r inn mugs. After all it is truly time for me to grow up and I can't hate the fact that my collection of pencil skirts will inevitable triple. I have never been the one to shy away from a change of scenery, and it will be my personal initiative to make this move no different. After all, life has its ups and downs, and there's no reason to act all yuppity when inevitable life changes force us to close our bar tabs and move on.

Meem