A Brief Description Of Just How Much Millennials Suck

A Brief Description Of Just How Much Millennials Suck

Photography by Brandon Stanciell.  Featuring Kristopher Young.  Issue 15.

I work at a sandwich shop.  Last week a gentleman came in two minutes before we closed who had obviously had a rough day because his rude level was at a 10/10.  It didn’t bother me or my coworker until she apparently asked a question too quickly and he made some comments about how “kids these days need to slow down and take themselves less seriously because we aren’t that important.”

I’m sure this gentleman had read one of the multiple articles I see daily explaining how entitled, selfish, and lazy the millennial generation is and how we are going to ruin the country over the course of the next few years.  That may have been part his reason for the condescending attitude, or it may have been possible that the 6-pack he proudly bragged about consuming while watching football caused him to loosen his mouth just a little bit too much. Or maybe it was the fact that he had obviously dropped his pizza on his Avengers t-shirt earlier in the day and he’d have to do the laundry sometime during the week that caused his miserable mood.  Either way, his condescending attitude, rude comments, and smirks weren’t welcome but still were received with a smile and a “thank you”.  Well here’s what I wished I could tell him: 

I woke up that morning at 6:30 in order to get homework done before class.  I finished up over some coffee and headed to a couple of classes before finishing up at 12.  I immediately started and finished a 5-page paper due the next day and wrote last week’s article before starting my shift at 3.  I had stayed up until 2 A.M. the night before so, by this point, I was already worn out.  Obviously, I should’ve prepared myself better and gotten more sleep but I’m young and like to have fun because one day I’ll most likely have kids and struggle to stay up past 9:30.   Anyways, by the time this customer came in I had been working hard for nearly 15 hours.  I’m sure he thought that as soon as he exited the store we would lock up and I’d go home and smoke a bowl because that’s all teenagers are good for, right?  What he didn’t know is I’d go to the back of the store and finish my third venti coffee of the day and spend the next hour closing the store before going home and studying for my test at 8 a.m. the next morning.  Obviously, a long day is one thing and happens to everyone.  I’m used to it and had no problem knowing I’d do the same thing for every day of the rest of the week.  I easily served every customer that day with a smile except for this one because of his lack of respect for what students are doing and his clear lack of understanding as to why we are forced to take our lives “too seriously”

I know that me, my friends at school, and my coworkers aren’t as successful as this man has been (his Crocs screamed high-salary businessman), but I think we deserve some credit.  Contrary to his comment about me being his “wife for the night because she’s out of town” (I wonder how much he has to pay her to stay with him), I am of a little more worth than just making a sandwich.  I’m in the classroom for 24 hours a week, in addition I spend at least another 24 doing homework for those classes, I also work for 29 a week.  If a “full-time” work week is 40 hours, then I am just 3 away from doubling that each week.  Not to mention the fact that I rage my face off at least three nights a week and write for this magazine. 

The reason I mention all of this because I’ve noticed that hardly anyone from the older generations has any idea how hard we work.  What makes me upset is that people like this gentleman have such an obviously low view of my peers and I.  I hear all the time how “easy” my generation has things or how we “don’t know the value of anything”.  There seems to be a common belief that we waste all our time “going on the facebook” and have the intelligence of small children “because of all the marijuanas we smoke”.  There is next to no recognition of how hard we work to prepare ourselves for the future.  Instead, all I hear is negativity about how we will ruin the country (thanks for all the debt by the way). 

I know the older generations have had hard lives (I mean walking uphill both ways to school is rough), but I know for a fact that my friends who bust their asses everyday don’t deserve to hear how little they think of us.  We are doing our best, working hard, and trying to be decent people.  Yes, we have fun.  No, we aren’t as conservative as our parents would like us.  Either way, it is my generation that will be taking care of that man fifteen years from now so I think we deserve a little more respect.  Thanks for the 18 cent tip though.  We’re good now.

The Adolescent Bucket List, and My Failure to Check the Boxes

The Adolescent Bucket List, and My Failure to Check the Boxes

The final girl. A classic slasher/horror trope, the final girl is the one that escapes the jaws of death, defeats the killer or evil, and emerges victorious from the bloodbath. How does she do this? Easy. She doesn't engage in any of the behaviors that her teen counterparts do. No smoking, drinking, drugs, and certainly no sex. Think Jamie Lee Curtis' character in Halloween. The other teenagers all get axed (usually after having sex) but Laurie, the pure, virtuous babysitter, is allowed to survive (for now...). It's a misogynistic and unrealistic way of looking at the world, to equate partaking in anything mildly scandalous with deserving death.

I'm the final girl. Or it feels like it sometimes. Except this time, making it out alive without even a scratch or having engaged in anything rebellious doesn't feel like a victory. It just feels wrong.

It started in seventh grade when my friends and I began to attend these public dances at a local middle school. We'd go for the fun of dressing up, to dance, hoping to meet someone. At the age of 13, I knew that these dances were the home of what could possibly be the most shocking act I was aware of: hooking up. Remember, this is hooking up in the seventh grade sense; just making out, I guess. I never got the chance.

My mind at these dances was populated by contradicting thoughts. Is this something I want to take part in or not? One part of me craved the experience, a first foray in the world of adolescent sexuality. Another part worried about the logistics. How was I supposed to get myself into a situation where hooking up happened? Did I have to talk to my partner? Would I screw up while kissing them and make a fool of myself? What would people say about me? In the days before I was diagnosed with anxiety, these questions tormented me and banished me from the world of preteen make out sessions. I heard my friends tell their hookup stories and wished that I could have the courage and the experience that they did. I stopped going to the dances, because spending a night fighting my anxiety was too painful.

And then people started drinking. It was like hooking up all over again, but with added risk. This time, if your parents found out you would really get into trouble. I avoided scenes that I knew would involve drinking, because I was scared to try it, and scared to be judged for not trying it. I'm not saying that drinking makes you brave or noble or anything, but I felt ashamed at my Puritanical ways. It's not like I think drinking and sex are sins or, like, the lure of the devil or something. My aversion to them is merely personal, a self-reflective insecurity that shuts me out of taking risks. A combination of being afraid of the act itself and how people will perceive my fear of the aforementioned act holds me back. I'd rather be safe than sorry; rather stay home alone than reveal my diffidence.

Because I've barely experienced anything in my seventeen years of life, I feel like I've failed teenagehood. What teenager has never been to a party, never snuck out of the house, or never been hungover? Have I failed some duty I owe to myself by living by the rules? I can't say that these years have been boring-- I've found plenty of entertaining and exciting things to do with my free time. They just don't involve the things I feel they're supposed to-- crushes, first kisses, breaking minor laws. Isn't they're some adolescent bucket list that I'm supposed to have checked off by now?

I don't mean to advocate either way for these things. Health class 101 taught me that you don't need to drink, smoke, or hook up to be cool. And in no way do I aim to shame those who do do this stuff. I mean, they're the majority. And it's completely alright. I merely mean to say that sometimes I feel like I'm doing my teenage years wrong. My life will never reflect the teen movies I was raised on. 

The final girl. Sometimes I wish I had some scars. Some mistakes I made, the trouble I got in. Final girl feels to naïve, too safe. 

Talking to a friend about this, she reminded me that I'm young. There's time for all of this, and there's no right way to do life. There's no right way to be a teenager. I guess she's right, but I can't help but feel wrong, like I've failed by making it out of high school with no regrets, asides from regretting that I have no regrets.

I don't have an answer for other teenagers that feel like me. I don't know if I'll feel like I've spent these years well. But if I can impart something on you, it's that I hope you don't doubt yourself, whatever you're doing. I hope you're able to do what you want to do with your adolescence, without being afraid of what others think of you, and without fearing what you think of yourself.