I joked with a friend the other day about his company's removal of the word "adult" from the product's name.
"Now you can pitch millennials with your nut butter", I said to my probably Gen Y (millennial) friend.
He laughed and typed a note on his cell phone to his business partner.
I admitted to my laughing friend that my wife and I actually house (sponsor?) a millennial. Suggesting that this baby boomer (sexagenarian) is qualified to judge.
I am not qualified to judge millennials.
In my day we moved out of the house at age 18 or sooner if possible.
In my day a studio apartment in Denver, Colorado was $32/week.
In my day gas was 25 cents a gallon. (We didn't say "per" back in the day.)
In my day we worked as many minimum-wage jobs as we needed to take care of ourselves, to live independently of our (oppressive, duh!) parents. I worked a day job as a bank teller and a night job as a drunk-hosting, fast-food restaurant-closing, night manager.
Minimum wage back then was $1.65 an hour.
At 3 AM I crashed my single bed.
Awoke for my 9AM bank job to hear my already drunk landlord scream eviction at me for violating the stupid, standing, no-food-in-room, house rule. Moments later, his sober, apologist wife waved his threat off.
This, every day.
For the few months I managed to sustain such a ludicrous work schedule and 'life.'
All so I could pay my studio apartment's $32/mo rent.
And behind our beloved millennials, there's always Gen Z, next up to bat.
To home run or to strike out? Definitely to play.
Because you have to play.
Static wages; skyrocket rents.
Life should be more, oh I don't know, livable.
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