As I walk along Columbus Avenue on my way to work, I quickly dodge an electric scooter zooming down the sidewalk, narrowly missing hapless pedestrians. The scooter isn’t being ridden by a rambunctious 10-year-old. It is commandeered by what appears to be a fully-grown adult.
Moments later, I spot a twenty-something dude wearing a hoodie and surly attitude careening down the street on a skateboard. At first glance, it looks like he’s dressed to meet his bros at the skate park. But then I realize that he’s on his way to work. He may even be the CEO.
Next door to my office, a hip new workshare space has just opened. The brightly colored décor could be described as Early Sesame Street; the interior is filled with bicycles, beanbag chairs, and the mandatory ping-pong table. I almost expect to see juice boxes and stuffed animals. (One such facility in SOMA is fittingly named “Sandbox Suites”).
Welcome to San Francisco. Or, as I like to call it, “The City That Won’t Grow Up.” Aka “Daycare by the Bay.”
The city that was once home to rebellious Sixties youth culture is now ground zero for Peter Pan Syndrome.
I suspect Peter himself would be proud of the inhabitants of this new Neverland. These kids haven’t just embraced their inner child—they’ve got that child in a death grip and they’re not letting go.
No wonder cupcake shops have sprung up on every corner. The young women on my morning bus clutch their enormous BPA-free water bottles as if cradling giant sippy cups. And while our local Millennials gladly leave home without an American Express Card, they wouldn’t dream of going out without their emotional-support Labradoodle.
So it’s no surprise that San Francisco is home to the Museum of Ice Cream. According to its website, the museum was inspired by the founder’s “childhood dream of jumping into a pool full of sprinkles.”
In a recent article, the twenty-something museum founder and creative director enthused, “…after my visit to the San Francisco Museum of Ice Cream, 10 plastic sprinkles shook loose from the inside of my shoe. On an otherwise bland day of adulting, the colorful little keepsakes were a welcome reminder to lighten up…”
Yes, adulting can get old fast. And in San Francisco, if there’s one thing no one wants to do, it’s get old. Or even put on their big-boy pants.
Fortunately for the “I Won’t Grow Up—Or Do Any Adulting!” crowd, they live in a city that indulges their every whim. Like a permissive parent who refuses to discipline an impudent child, San Francisco enables immature and sometimes bad behavior all under the guise of “innovation,” “creativity,” and the ever-popular “disruption.” Want to ride your electric scooter on the sidewalk? No problem! Feel like skateboarding in the middle of traffic, and maybe running a few red lights? Awesome, dude! Can’t wait to board a crowded Muni bus, oblivious to the fact that you are smashing your super-sized backpack into other passengers? You go right ahead, sweetheart! After all,the world revolves aroundYOU.
This is what happens when a generation sorely in need of adult supervision is given free rein in a city that refuses to create—let alone enforce—sensible rules or regulations of any kind. Our already legendary reputation for tolerance has reached new levels of absurdity.
Sure, things were always lax here. But now that the entire place has been infected by the “move fast and break things” startup ethos, virtually anything goes. Bad behavior is not only tolerated—it’s celebrated. It seems a lot of nice things, from common courtesy to pedestrian safety, are getting broken in the process.
Of course, San Francisco’s overly permissive attitude is hardly limited to young people. But the city’s youthful denizens certainly know how to exploit it to the max.
Am I just an embittered, old person who wants to deny the kids their fun? Probably. But I know I’m not the only longtime San Francisco resident who is constantly astonished at the behavior of our younger neighbors. The city is their playground. The rest of us just live in it.
What? Yet another Old Person Rant about Millennials? Haven’t these kids been ridiculed enough? By now, we know all the stereotypes by heart: Millennials are fragile, coddled, lazy, entitled snowflakes who take nonstop Selfies and keep count of endless micro-aggressions.
I don't mean to pile on to this already much maligned generation. But I'm afraid I must. You see, I live in San Francisco -- a city swarming with Millennials -- so I am forced to constantly observe their habits. Like an anthropologist studying an exotic species, I can't help but notice how these delicate young creatures maneuver through their environment, as well as how that environment has adapted to cater to these creatures' rarefied tastes.
Recently, all of this intense observation lead to to an "Aha!" moment. "Aha!", I thought, "these Millennials not only apply a purity test to all things political and social, they apply a purity test to everything in their lives.”
Suddenly, all of my random observations made perfect sense; I was witnessing something I call “Millennial Purity”.
Oh, you already know about this? Ok, I guess I just have a keen sense of the obvious. But if you will indulge me for a moment, here are just a few examples of Millennial Purity that have caught my beady-eyed gaze...
Food
We know Millennials are all about natural/organic/gluten-free/vegetarian/vegan/locally sourced/artisanal/farm-to-table. Living a healthy lifestyle is obviously important to them. As it should be. But with Millennials, healthy eating takes on a holier-than-thou quality, with a just a dash of self-righteousness thrown in for extra flavor. It's as if their oh-so-pure bodies (and souls) can't be tainted by any food that isn't 100% "clean" (you know, like all that unclean food favored by Boomers).
One of my earliest glimpses of Millennial Purity came in the form of the Panera commercials. Panera was one of the first companies to jump on the Millennial Purity bandwagon. In an effort to appeal to the Pure Generation, Panera totally revamped their menu and their image; now they only serve Clean Food. The Panera “Medical Students” spot is an insufferable homage to Millennial Purity. I don’t know what’s more annoying; the croaky, Hipster Baby voiceoveror the entire premise. “Let’s get a sandwich…or something” reeks of Millennial righteousness. And the smug tagline: “Food as it Should Be” almost makes me choke on my Deep Fried Twinkies.
Not long after this campaign started running, I suddenly noticed new eateries cropping up around San Francisco with names like Proper Food, True Food Kitchen, Urban Remedy, Beloved Cafe and Vitality Bowls. That's when it finally dawned on me: Oh, now I get it: Clean Food is a thing. Of course, Millennials need something to wash all that Clean Food down with. Which brings me to...
Juicing!
How many juice bars does it take to quench a Millennial's thirst? In my neighborhood, the answer is: at least one per block. Seriously. A friend visiting from the East told me she'd never seen so many juice bars within a 5-block radius. I guess Millennials must be really thirsty!
These establishments have names like Thrive Cleanse, Fine and Rare, Native Juice Co. and Project Juice (slogan: “Drink Juice. Eat clean.”). One menu features “So Clean, Clean Juice”. Entering a cold-pressed juicery is like entering a Temple of Purity and Enlightenment; everything is white/minimal/clean. The favored decor for these emporiums is a spartan, brightly lit space with a refrigerated case containing a few bottles of juice, displayed as if they were holy, magical elixirs. That Kale/Cucumber/Cayenne juice you’re sipping isn't a mere beverage, it's the door to spiritual awakening.
I hate to harsh Millennials’ collective mellow, but I must point out that for every cold-pressed juice bar in my neighborhood, there’s a regular kind of bar where many Young Puritans binge drink on a regular basis. On the weekends, the scene resembles a drunken frat and sorority house free-for-all. But no worries. The easiest way to atone for a heavy night of drinking (and get the bitter taste of hypocrisy out of your mouth) is to simply hit the juice bar the next morning for a Cayenne/Aloe cleanse! And don’t forget, if you're going to imbibe, there’s always Craft Beer. Sure, it’s alcohol, but it’s artisanal.
Yoga
While yoga is popular with all ages, Millennials are completely obsessed with yoga. In San Francisco, no self-respecting 20-something female would be caught without a yoga mat tucked under one arm, like an extra appendage, and a Lululemon totebag dangling from the other wrist.
One reason why Millennials love yoga is, Millennials are very stressed. As Millennial yoga instructor Morgan Casavant explains it: “We’re expected to go to college and make good grades. Then we work for free in some bullsh*t internship for ‘resume experience’. When we finally enter the workforce as real, salary-making adults, we’re barely making enough to cover rent and student loans. Thankfully yoga is there, reminding us to take a deep breath because everything is temporary. We will get through this.” (Warning: there are some very stressed and angry Millennials out there. You may not want to place your yoga mat too close to them).
Yoga also offers delicate Millennials a Safe Space. According to Morgan, "Yoga is a no-judgement zone all about self-expression and being true to who you are. Millennials have plenty of ways to express themselves with all the cute yoga accessories out there!" (in other words, yoga class is a great place to show off your toned, SoulCycle bod).
Of course, Millennials are also really into Mindfulness. Health and Wellness writer, Cory Keating, author of the Peaceful Dumpling blog, says, "Millennials desperately need Mindfulness more than any other generation...Millennials are stressed out and do not feel awake in their everyday life." She adds, "...Mindfulness encourages you to be open to experiences, yourself, and others from a nonjudgmental place, leading to greater interconnectivity. Mindful interaction can bring us closer, reduce conflict, and make life a little less stressful." Apparently, Millennial Mindfulness stops at the yoga studio door. How else do you explain all those really loud cell phone conversations on my bus ride to work every day? How mindful is that?
"Curated"
Millennials have an inflated sense of their own uniqueness. They are super special beings who are super particular about what they eat, drink, wear, and buy. So it stands to reason that is no longer acceptable to simply offer this crowd a lovely selection of shoes/handbags/whatever. Heavens no. Everything has to be carefully curated.
Take makeup, for instance. Millennials wouldn't dream of using any makeup. No, their beauty products need to be curated. Or, in some cases, pre-curated. Emily Weiss, Founder and CEO of the Millennial beauty lifestyle brand, Glossier, says, “Our range is small by design. It’s a tightly, pre-curated collection of the most relevant beauty products today.” (Ladies, when was the last time you asked, “Is my concealer relevant?”).
Then there's Birchbox. Just sign up for a subscription, and Birchbox will send you a monthly Curated Box containing a selection of 5 small beauty samples, packaged in a cute, highly Instagramable box. Oops, did I say “selection”? Sorry. It’s a collection.
Enter Casper. Casper markets itself as the hip mattress for Millennials (I guess more Millennials are moving out of their parents houses and need mattresses). The mattresses have a clean, basic, utilitarian look. They sport simple, non-frou frou names like The Wave, The Casper, and The Essential -- names that appeal to Millennial Purity. But here's the kicker: Instead of being delivered by a grimy, old truck, you order your Casper mattress online and it arrives in a box. If you’re wondering how on earth they fit a full-size mattress in a box, well, they do. Their “Unboxing” commercial shows a barefooted, t-shirt wearing Millennial removing a full-size mattress from a surprisingly small box (it's kind of like like watching clowns emerge from a tiny car). The "Unboxing" commercial has just the slightest air of Millennial Superiority. Its unspoken message is: you tired, old people can keep your tired, old mattresses and grimy, old delivery trucks. A Casper mattress is simple, pure, clean, superior. Millennials are eating up the whole Casper gestalt; the mattresses are selling faster than avocado toast and Poké bowls.
Casper also has brick-and-mortar stores. Their pop-up store in San Francisco's Marina District is a model of Instagrammy Preciousness. According to one article, the store was "inspired by the feeling of waking up well-rested and refreshed — complete with the smell of fresh coffee and birds chirping." The store features "nap-pods" designed to look like life-size birdhouses, atop an Astro-turf floor. No, I'm not making this up.
I can't help but wonder: Can Millennials sustain this level of purity? Or is it something they will outgrow when they outgrow their Lululemon yoga pants?
I don't know. I just know I find these Young Puritans endlessly fascinating. I'll continue to monitor their strange, exotic habits. When I do, I'll bring you more of my carefully curated observations.
I admit it. I love reading Glassdoor reviews. On Glassdoor, employees can post anonymous reviews of their respective workplaces. The site offers a tantalizing, voyeuristic glimpse into the work culture of thousands of companies.
Perusing company reviews on Glassdoor is endlessly fascinating and enlightening. After reading hundreds of reviews, I feel like I have a much better grasp on why certain companies earn glowing 4-5 star ratings, while others barely muster a measly 2-3 stars – or God forbid, the dreaded 1 star.
Clearly, highly rated companies understand what employees want – and deliver.
So, what exactly do employees want? Challenging work? Flexible hours? Generous pay and benefits? Opportunities for professional growth?
Well, sure, all of those things are good.
But what employees want most appears to be…good snacks.
On Glassdoor, even the most heinous company, with a laundry list of “Cons”, can redeem itself, and avoid a poor rating, if said company merely offers tasty snacks (or better yet, free lunches and booze).
To illustrate, here is a sampling of actual headlines from companies with 1-star ratings:
“Disaster”
“Worst Place to Work”
“Game of Thrones Without the Dragons”
“Very Toxic”
“RUN!!
However, directly below these damning headlines comes a list of positives:
Pros
The snacks
Bagels on Mondays with 3 tubs of cream cheese
Good selection of cold pressed juice
Free lunches and snacks are awesome!
At times, the juxtaposition of Pros and Cons can be a trifle amusing:
Pros: Free bagels on Mondays!
Cons:They will find a way to make working here a living hell
Pros: Cold-brew coffee and craft beer on tap
Cons: You WILL be overworked here
Pros: Delicious smoothies and yummy pastries
Cons:Sociopathic behavior is encouraged
Pros: 3 meals a day, stocked kitchen, and a freaking brewmaster on site!!
Cons: CEO is an easily manipulated doofus who thinks he is a visionary
Pros:Catered lunches on Fridays
Cons: Constant layoffs and resignations
But remember, just offering free snacks and other food isn’t enough. You have to provide quality offerings. Don’t think for a moment that you are going to get away with stocking your office kitchen with a few bags of Cheetos, a couple of sad bananas, and cans of Red Bull chilling in the fridge. Heaven help the well intentioned Office Manager who offers a sub-standard culinary experience, as these comments demonstrate:
Cons:
Wish there were better snacks
Only offer 5 flavors of La Croix water in fridge
Free lunch and dinner, not that good though
The breakfasts were terrible, but free
Today’s employees are a tough audience. And in the food-obsessed Bay Area, where food is oh-so-precious and a healthy sense of entitlement is a job requirement, the bar is even higher. Local employers are under pressure to please the most discriminating palates, as witnessed in this Glassdoor review:
Pros:
“Free coffee and tea (coffee is small batch and local, none of that big box stuff”)
Imagine…being forced to drink big box coffee? Could be grounds for a lawsuit (no pun intended).
Now, I like free snacks and food as much as the next person (maybe more, if my BMI is any indication). But I never considered snacks a major factor in accepting a job. Times have changed. Today, it’s all about the food. What started out as free pizza or Thai food delivered to employees who were occasionally required to work late, has now morphed into a mandatory perk. Some companies even boast their own gourmet cafeterias, with menus that rival 4-star restaurants.
No doubt, this feeding frenzy began with Bay Area tech companies and start-ups. These companies quickly discovered that the best way to lure hungry, young talent (and keep them there) was with lots and lots of food. In a USA Today article, Hadley Malcolm writes, “Perhaps to no one’s surprise, food at work is the most important to Millennials, vs other age groups, and they are also the most likely to say they wish their employer offered more snack options.”
What is it with these darned Millennials? Do they not eat except at work? If there were no free snacks in the office kitchen, would they starve? Maybe they’re still living at home, but Mom refuses to feed them? No wonder they are hoarding bagels and Greek yogurt.
Malcolm goes on to elaborate on the reasons for today’s snacking craze: “In recent years, some offices have turned into edible playgrounds, with a never-ending supply of pressed juice, granola, Greek yogurt, chips, cereal, cookies and even beer. And with a growing number of young start-ups and high-energy tech companies that have reimagined the workplace as communities with a shared purpose, rather than offices where a group of people all happen to be from 9-5, free food has become an integral part of the workday.”
“Communities with a shared purpose”? That’s one way to look at it. A more cynical view (such as mine) is that 9-5 has stretched to 9-whenever. A good way to get people to work endless hours is to endlessly feed them.
So it’s not surprising that one often finds a correlation between the Pros and Cons listed in a Glassdoor review. If the reviewer complains about “Zero work-life balance”, it’s a pretty sure bet the next paragraph will include “Awesome snacks and free meals!”.
In other words, you may be killing yourself at a modern day sweatshop, but hey, the Tuesday tacos are to die for.
Once in a while, a clear-eyed reviewer on Glassdoor sees through the food-as-bribery gambit. As one savvy employee said at the end of an especially negative review, “Don’t let the free food and adorable dogs cloud your perspective”.
That’s a refreshing bit of honesty, but comments like that are rare. More often, employees seem to be eating it all up.
I remember when cell phones first appeared on the scene. At that time, I naively believed that people would never, ever talk on their phones in public, especially not while riding public transportation. After all, why would anyone want others to overhear their private conversations? What's more, wouldn't it be terribly rude to inflict your loud, personal phone conversation on other passengers?
Silly me. I was still operating on the outmoded assumptions that 1) people valued their privacy, 2) people would be considerate of others and 3) there was still such a thing as Manners.
I completely underestimated how ubiquitous bad cell phone behavior would become.
Since then, like many of us, I've had to learn to tolerate (just barely) my fellow passengers' lengthy, loud phone conversations. I hate it, but it's the New Abnormal.
Then, just when I thought things couldn't get any worse -- they got worse.
The other morning on my bus ride to work, I was seated in front of a young guy who was conducting a CONFERENCE CALL. That's right, he was holding a conference call on the bus. And he wasn't merely a participant, whispering, and listening quietly -- he was the Organizer! He was not speaking in hushed tones; he was speaking as if he was in a regular conference room and it was business as usual. Except that he was surrounded by other passengers seated right next to him, in front of him, and in back of him. Not only could we hear every word he said, the people all the way in the back of the bus could hear every word he said.
I listened in horror as the one-way conversation began...
"Hey, Erik? Hi, it's Tom. Yeah hi...I'm on the bus..." (nothing out of the ordinary here...just a statement of fact...of course he's on the bus, why not?)
"So...is Alex on the line yet? Great. What about Katie? Cool. And hey, is Simon on?
Okay! I guess we're all here...awesome! Let's get started!"
And so, they started. And I sat there, flabbergasted, unable to grasp what I was witnessing.
This was wrong on so many levels...where do I even start?
First, this guy was holding a business meeting while he was on the bus. Which either meant that a) he was running late to work, or b)-- and this is entirely possible -- that he scheduled the call for when he'd be riding the bus. So just purely on a professional level, I have to take points off for the fact that either this guy cannot get his ass to work on time, or he's just completely clueless about scheduling calls. (I know some of you may argue that perhaps he had to schedule the call at this precise time, because it was the only option. Sorry, there is always another option).
I was trained to conduct business calls in a business-like environment; someplace quiet, with no interruptions. But that quaint notion has gone the way of the Rolodex and fax machine. Now, people can -- and do -- make business calls from virtually anywhere -- the coffee shop, the car, probably even the toilet.
Background noise during a conference call is a huge distraction. Did it bother the dude on the bus that he would be conducting his call from a crowded, noisy city bus? Apparently not. And we already know it never occurred to him that he might be bothering all of us. That thought never even crossed his mind. Entitled? Maybe. Oblivious? Definitely.
I suppose I should no longer be shocked by this type of behavior. And yet, I am. I never cease to be amazed by how stupid, and downright rude, people can be these days. Many people in my generation (i.e., older people) feel this way. We're perpetually outraged; but we know our outrage is useless. We can be as grumpy as we want, but it doesn't matter. Etiquette is dead. Manners are obsolete.
When it comes to cell phone use, the line between private and public has blurred in ways that were previously unimaginable. A 2015 Pew Study on public cell phone use showed that many people are ok with cell phone use just about anywhere -- on public transportation, in line, at a restaurant. That's an old study, so I suspect phone calls in public places are even more acceptable now than ever before. At this point, anything goes.
We live in a world devoid of common courtesy. Or even common sense.
Outside the Today Show studio window, the snow was coming down hard.
Inside, Today Show co-hosts Savannah Guthrie and Natalie Morales were on camera, telling millions of viewers about the latest blizzard that had gripped the East Coast.
"It's the coldest winter in recorded history!" gushed Savannah. "I know, it's just freezing...brrrrr" remarked Natalie, doing a little fake shiver.
Matt Lauer chimed in about the frigid weather, too. But he was wearing a suit. Both of the ladies were wearing sleeveless, summery cocktail dresses. In the middle of a blizzard. In the middle of January.
I switched channels to MSNBC, only to find "Morning Joe" co-host Mika Brzezinksi sporting a bright cobalt blue sleeveless sheath dress. She looked like she was going clubbing. But instead, she was headed into a heated debate on healthcare reform with Joe Scarborough.
I hit the remote again. There was Kelly Ripa, flaunting her ripa'd biceps in a tight, sleeveless frock.
No need to check on Fox. Every woman on Fox News goes sleeveless. Fox practically invented the "sexy anchor" look. Foxy Meghan Kelly would sooner come out in favor of gun control than appear on camera in a dress that covered her well toned guns.
Everytime I turn on the tv, I see female reporters and tv hosts of every age wearing the ubiquitous sleeveless sheath dress uniform. Andrea Mitchell shows up for White House briefings in skimpy sleeveless dresses. On CNN, Ashleigh Banfield routinely goes sleeveless, but balances the look with her trademark Clark Kent glasses that say, "I'm a serious reporter. No seriously, I am."
Recently on MSNBC, the earnest and professorial Melissa Harris-Perry uncharacteristically showed up in a halter dress so provocative, it gave the network's tagline, "Lean Forward" a whole new meaning.
Sleeveless, and its slightly more demure cousin, the tiny cap sleeve, is the new blazer. The only holdouts I've seen are Cristiane Amanpour, Rachel Maddow and Candy Crowley. I don't think we'll see any of them rocking the sleeveless and stilletos look anytime soon. But I fear that at this very moment, Candy Crowley is being pressured by some network exec to slim down, hit the Stairmaster, and squeeze into a sexy, plus-sized number by the mid-term elections.
And the sleeveless trend isn't limited to just the gals on the national news. Even on my local news, our less than glamorous anchorwomen flaunt their arms nightly in sleeveless dresses that scream K-mart more than couture. And needless to say, every female weather reporter would wear sleeveless even in a tsunami. Wearing tight, sexy clothes is clearly a job requirement.
Look, I know it gets hot under tv studio lights. But did the heat just recently become so intolerable that it suddenly necessiated an all-sleeveless-all-the-time wardrobe?
I don't think so.
What I think is that a) producers insist their female on-camera talent dress in an overtly sexy way, showing as much skin as possible, to boost ratings and b) many of those females spend hours in the gym and want to show off their toned upper arms.
Look, if my upper arms were ready for prime time, I might want to show them off, too. But not every day. And not all year long.
I still cling to the antiquated notion that some clothes are seasonally appropriate. I know, it's an outmoded concept. But I'm sticking to it. You want to wear sleeveless? Wait till August. If it's the middle of January, I don't want to see skin. I want to see sleeves. Or better yet, a sweater.
And if you're reporting on a serious news story, sleeveless just doesn't look all that serious. So why have news outlets traded serious for sexy? To attract more male viewers? Or because they can't afford to spring for dresses with sleeves? I'm all for women looking feminine and attractive on tv. But that's different from dressing like the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills.
Should we blame Michelle Obama for starting the sleeveless trend? Perhaps. The First Lady looks great in her sleeveless dresses, and I don't blame her for flaunting her seriously toned arms while she can. But it's gone too far.
Are tv producers so desperate for viewers that they have to turn every female newscaster into a sexy bombshell? And the bigger and more disturbing question is, why are women going along with it? Why do seemingly intelligent women slavishly follow every fashion trend and try so hard to look like Kardashians while trying to sound like Edward R. Murrow?
I don't get it.
We've come a long way, baby. Which is why I long to see long sleeves.
I was at the Safeway Deli counter today, ordering my usual tuna sandwich (they make a surprisingly good tuna sandwich). Lately, I've been getting my lunch there almost every single day. I always order the exact same thing. And regardless of who is behind the counter that day, the exchange always - always - goes exactly the same way:
DELI CLERK: Can I help you?
ME: Yes, I'd like a tuna sandwich on rye toast with nothing on it.
DELI CLERK: Would you like cheese on that?
ME: No, thanks...no cheese...nothing. Just the tuna...on toast.
DELI CLERK: No cheese?
ME: NO cheese...just tuna. That's all I want.
DELI CLERK: Did you want tomatoes on that, Ma'am?
ME: No. No tomatoes.
DELI CLERK: Can I get you anything else with that?
ME: No thanks, just the sandwich.
DELI CLERK: Would you like some tasty soup with that, lady?
ME: No thanks, just the sandwich.
DELI CLERK: Would you like to order a large sized soft drink today?
ME: NO THANK YOU. I...JUST...WANT...THE...SANDWICH.
By the time my sandwich is finally made, and it's time to pay for it, I am about to go postal. But I'm not out of the woods yet. Because that's when the Cashier attempts to close the deal by asking, "Do you want a refreshing soft drink with that today? Or may I suggest some delicious soup?"
At which point, I respond with, "NO, I JUST WANT THE #@!!% FREAKING SANDWICH!!" (Note: I don't actually swear at the Safeway counter...but this is what I would LIKE to say. Regardless, my expression – and the steam escaping from my ears – says it all. The Sushi chefs at the neighboring counter have been known to stare).
What we have here is a failure to communicate.
Now, I know the Safeway Deli clerks are only doing as they are told. And they have been told to always ask if the customer wants another item. Even when said customer makes it absolutely clear he or she doesn't want another item – they must still ask the question (it should be noted here that most Safeway Deli personnel have a rather tenuous grasp of the English language to begin with, which tends to exacerbate the situation).
Of course, this technique is quite deliberate. It's called "upselling".
I call it a pain in the butt.
This popular practice is hardly unique to the Safeway Deli counter. It happens almost everywhere nowadays.
Jamba Juice, for instance, is notorious for their upselling tactics. I can't order a smoothie without being asked if I'd also like a "yummy baked good" with my drink. Since I've caught on to their methods, I've tried to head them off at the pass, immediately jumping in at lightning speed with "No, I don't want anything else with that", just as the eager Jamba clerk is forming the question. Alas, it does no good. The question gets asked anyway. These people have been given a script, and by golly, they are going to stick to it. Which means they don't even act that much like real people. They're more like perky automotrons with aprons.
Upselling isn't new. As anyone who has frequented a department store cosmetics counter knows, you can't just buy a lipstick without being asked to sample the latest miracle serum or amazing, line-smoothing foundation. But for some reason, I expect this at the makeup counter. And when you tell a Lancome salesperson "no thanks", it tends to stick. He or she just gives you a dirty look and skulks away to ring up your measly purchase.
But this new breed of aggressive retailers won't take no for an answer. I assume that's because they must have had some success with this technique. It's all predicated on impulse buying and the power of suggestion. I guess a certain number of people who had no idea they wanted soup with their sandwich suddenly want soup when the suggestion is made. But when I am asked the question repeatedly – regardless of what I've already said – I have an entirely different impulse: I want to strangle the person asking the question. Better yet, I want to strangle that person's boss.
Good customer service used to mean that you listened to what the customer wanted and gave them exactly what they requested. But listening is just so passé. Today, you simply tell impressionable customers what they should want. And if they still don't want it, just tell them again. And again.
Retailers of America: Come to think of it, I would like something else with my sandwich or smoothie or whatever the hell it is I'm about to purchase: someone who actually listens and knows enough to not presume to know what I want.
However...you don't hear any of those other words used much anymore. Because the only adjective that gets used to describe anything these days seems to be "amazing".
Have you noticed that right now, absolutely everything is "amazing"? It is the adjective du jour. Every time I overhear a cell phone conversation on the bus (which is a lot more often than I'd like), it's pretty much guaranteed I will hear the phrase, "It was amazing". If it's a twenty-something who is having the conversation, then it was "...like, SO amazing." They might be describing last night's pizza, a new brand of lip gloss or the latest episode of "Lost"...makes no difference. Whatever it was, it was amazing!
Remember when everything was described with that other A-word, "awesome"? Mercifully, "awesome" gave way to "amazing". Which would have been just fine, except now there is only "amazing". Apparently, we as a people are only capable of using one adjective at a time.
Earlier this year, Larry King hosted a pre-Oscars show featuring the cast of the musical, Nine. His celebrity panel included everyone from Kate Hudson, Penelope Cruz and Fergie to Daniel Day-Lewis, Sophia Loren and Dame Judi Dench. At one point, Larry asked each person on the panel to describe what it was like to make this movie. Every one of them - including the esteemed Dame Judi - answered exactly the same way: "Oh, it was just amazing." I waited to hear Sophia Loren's answer. Surely, the legendary Ms. Loren would never say, "It was amazing" - but sure enough, she added her "amazing" to the chorus. Then Larry asked the director, Rob Marshall, what it was like to work with such an amazing cast. His answer? "What can I say, Larry? It was just amazing."
I have to admit, I am not immune from using the A-word. In fact, I use it way too often. It's become so automatic, I have stop mid-sentence and force myself to describe something as "incredible" or "wonderful" (I still refuse to say "awesome"...and if I ever did, there would be gales of laughter).
There was a time when "amazing" was reserved for people and things that were truly amazing - usually circus acts, magicians, comic book characters or natural wonders. The Flying Wallendas? Now, they were amazing. The Amazing Houdini? He definitely earned the "Amazing" part. The Amazing Spider-Man? Hey, anyone who can scale a 30-story skyscraper and look good in Lycra is amazing in my book. Niagra Falls...The Grand Canyon...Mt. Everest? All pretty darned amazing.
But today, everything from a goat cheese salad to Taylor Swift's latest CD qualifies as "amazing" (the fact that Taylor Swift is even a recording star...well, that's what is truly amazing. But I digress).
I never cease to be amazed at how one word can catch on and suddenly, it's the only word anyone ever uses. You know, it's just like, so, um,unbelievable.
Sorry that I haven't posted anything for a while. I've been busy trying to reinventmyself.
"How's it going?" you ask. Uh, not so great. In fact, if you must know, I've made remarkably little progress.
Where do you even start when you're told you need to "reinvent yourself for the 21st Century" or wind up eating catfood? (The un-reinvented me was more than acceptable in the previous century, but hey, this new century is a bitch).
Reinvention is big right now - for good reason; the current economic crisis has forced many of us into survival mode. Like it or not, we have to reinvent ourselves. And we hope we can figure out how to do it before we find ourselves flipping burgers at McDonalds on the nightshift.
It's scary. But we don't have to go it alone. A whole industry has conveniently sprung up to exploit, um, guide us through the reinvention process.
There are endless self-help books about how to reinvent yourself. A gazillion websites are devoted to the topic. Personal coaches are coming out of the woodwork, eager to help you on your road to reinvention (or, as they say, while you are "in transition"). There's even a Reinvention Institute - their website cheerfully proclaims, "We are the Reinvention Institute, your partner in transformation". The site offers a myriad of products to help facilitate your transformation, including the "Momentum eKit" ("...to keep the ball rolling!")...yours for a mere $79 (minus shipping and handling).
Pick up just about any women's magazine, and you'll find endless, "inspiring" real-life stories of midlife women who "reinvented" themselves only to find greater happiness, success and satisfaction than ever before. O, The Oprah Magazine, is the Bible of Reinvention. Which isn't surprising, since Oprah practically invented "radical reinvention" and has created a mega-empire from it. Virtually every issue features stories with titles like "Transform Your Whole Life in 60 Days! - One Woman's Incredible Journey" or "How to Become the Person You Were Meant to Be" (that might take more than 60 days...better allow at least six months).
These stories are meant to inspire us; and sometimes, they do. It's inspiring to read about Middle Aged women who gave up secure but boring jobs to pursue their passion, whatever that may be. Like the woman in the recent MORE Magazine story titled "Extreme Reinventions" who "quit her job as a corporate Marketing Executive to become a professional rodeo barrel racer!" Or the former editor-in-chief of Playgirl magazine who found fulfillment as an ordained interfaith minister (no, I'm not making this up).
Frankly, I've always been fascinated by these stories. In fact, I've needed these stories. We all want
to believe that it's possible to reinvent oneself...to make a
meaningful, midlife career change...pursue a dream...have a "second
act". And I give credit to anyone who actually does it.
The underlying premise behind all these stories is that reinvention - even late in life - is just a matter of pluck, passion and determination. If you are willing to "follow your bliss", work hard, and take some risks, you will be rewarded with a meaningful new career, a satisfying new life, a fresh start. You might even make a fortune and never have to send out a resume again.
Well, maybe.
You see, I've noticed a pattern with lots of these stories. More often than not, you discover that the woman who "started her own fashion line after 40" didn't just have a passion for fashion...she also happened to be married to a hedge fund manager (what we used to call a "Sugar Daddy").
Or that the woman who "always dreamed of having her own restaurant" is actually a former, high-paid fashion model living in a villa in Tuscany who can now well afford to "risk" going to culinary school and "follow her dreams".
And the woman who quit her boring Accounting job to devote herself to full-time volunteer work? Well, there's this one, tiny detail: she just happened to have a large inheritance to fall back on.
The salient point buried in many of these stories is that women who successfully "reinvent themselves" in midlife often possess more than guts, passion and initiative; they possess a healthy bank account (theirs or their hubby's). In other words: they are alreadyfinancially secure.
That rather significant disclaimer is at the heart of many (not all) "reinvention" stories. And for me, it's always a colossal bummer. Which is probably why every time I read one of these accounts, I inevitably have what Oprah likes to call an "Aha" moment. Because while these dramatic "life transformations" may seem "inspiring" and "brave", it just doesn't count as much if the person is already independently wealthy or has some other means of financial support!
Case in point:
At MOREMagazine's third annual "Reinvention Convention", New York
real estate mogul, Barbara Corcoran, told an audience of midlife women how she was faced with reinventing herself after her first business
closed. It was a painful time...and she learned a lot. The celebrated broker shared her "10
Lessons of Reinvention". She offered up "hard earned advice" such as "Good
things come out of insecurities" and "When making new contacts, don't
forget 'thank-you' follow up emails".
I suspect she left out Lesson #1: Before you reinvent yourself, it helps to sell your first
business for $77 million dollars. Let's face it, that kind of cash can be a comfort
when you are "jobless", over forty and struggling with your identity.
I am reminded of a popular self-help book that came out in the early 1990s. The book was called Your Money or Your
Life: Transforming Your Relationship with Money and Achieving Financial Independence. The radical idea behind the book was that by spending and consuming less, people could leave the corporate rat race to pursue their dreams and find real happiness. According to the blurb on the back cover, the authors, Joe Dominguez and Vicki Robin "took back their lives by gaining control of their money. They both gave up successful - and stressful - careers in order to live more deliberately and meaningfully." As one reviewer gushed, "This is one of those rare books that can really change your life! The authors live their own advice, and it works."
Since a sucker is born every minute, I immediately plunked down my $15.95 for the book, eager to discover Joe and Vicki's "inspiring and empowering" nine-step program that held the secret to financial independence, greater personal satisfaction and inner peace.
About eight pages into the Prologue, I unearthed the secret: it turns out that at age thirty-one, Joe Dominguez "retired from his career on Wall Street - never again to accept money for any of his work." That same year, he met Vicki. "Her open mind and substantial savings allowed her to recognize the value of Joe's new road map for money and apply it to her own life."
Translation: Joe had Wall Street money and he married well. His wife, Vicki, didn't just have an "open mind" - she had an open wallet. Bingo!
After I learned the truth about Joe and Vicki, their book lost all credibility; after all, the authors were living off their substantial savings and were obviously set for life. My feeling is, once you're set for life, it's a lot easier to focus on "attaining a wholeness of livelihood and lifestyle" (i.e. live frugally and learn to stick to a budget ...which, as it turns out, was the core message of the book).
Reinvention is a swell idea. But try telling a single Mom who works two jobs and earns minimum wage that if she just "followed her dreams", she could go to medical school and become a heart surgeon. Or that an older, unemployed woman without a rich hubby can - and should - start a gourmet chocolates company because that's her "passion". Sorry, it just doesn't work that way - especially in today's tenuous economy.
These sunny stories of radical reinvention make it sound as if reinventing oneself was as simple as changing your hair color or trying on a new outfit. The whole notion of "reinvention" is way too facile. Worse yet, it's downright misleading.
The truth is, try as we may, most of us will never reinvent ourselves. We may learn new skills. We may even take a stab at a new career. But mostly, we'll just muddle through with our un-reinvented selves, make whatever adjustments we can, tinker around the edges, try to adapt and be resilient, keep plugging away, and hopefully, somehow manage to survive in an increasingly challenging and unforgiving world.
I know that's a downer. But it's a lot closer to the truth than what Oprah would like us to believe.
Reinvention may be a necessity. But these days, it's also a luxury that only a few can afford.
Anyone who has ever applied to an online job posting knows there is no more frustrating, dehumanizing process than filling out boxes on a long, electronic job application and then sending your carefully crafted cover letter and painstakingly customized resume into the Cyberspace equivalent of the Black Hole. The system is intentionally designed to give the job applicant (you) a minimum of contact with the job provider (them).
Of course, that assumes that there's even a them on the other end to admire your brilliant prose and impressive credentials. More likely, there's merely some computer software scanning your resume for key words.
Whatever you do, don't expect a response. These days, you have a better chance of landing a spot on "Idol" or losing that last five pounds than ever hearing back from an HR person or recruiter.
Sometimes, though, you do hear back. And on those rare occasions, I've noticed that the responses all tend to sound strangely alike. As a matter of fact, they sound exactly alike.
In an effort to put the "human" back in Human Resources, the folks in charge of hiring have latched on to a stock phrase to say "thanks, but no thanks". It usually goes something like this:
"Dear so-and-so:
We received your resume. Thank you for reaching out to us. We appreciate your interest in Company X and will keep your resume on file in case an appropriate opportunity arises."
Thank you for reaching out to us?? The first time I heard this, I thought it sounded warm and fuzzy. . .you know, kind of a New Age-y approach to the standard rejection letter. But by the fourth or fifth time, it finally dawned on me: "thank you for reaching out to us" is now the official jargon used by virtually every HR person and recruiter in the nation. It's basically Corporate-ese for "HA! HA! HA! Are you &^%% kidding me? ? We've received 8,000 resumes in the last hour alone. . .oh, and did we mention the job pays only slightly higher than the starting salary for greeters at Wal-Mart?".
Look, the job-hunting process is daunting, at best. It's always nice to get an email back, regardless of how it's worded. So if you've responded to my application, thank you. It can't be easy facing an Inbox full of highly qualified, hopeful applicants, all competing for the same, underpaid position. Maybe the "reaching out" thing is simply a kinder, gentler way of dealing with doling out rejection on a mass scale. Or, more likely, you're just following the directions in your company's HR manual. I understand. It's stressful for you, too.
But whenever I hear that phrase, I can't help thinking of someone who is safely aboard a crowded lifeboat, yelling to some poor soul who is bobbing in an icy, shark-infested sea, "Sorry, there's no room in the lifeboat right now, but thanks for reaching outto us!"
Memo to those in the lifeboat: Don't get too comfy. Sure, you may be safely in the lifeboat today. But tomorrow, you could be out here with the rest of us, treading water and composing endless cover letters. Face it, there aren't even that many lifeboats to go around anymore. You could be just a budget cut away from being the one reaching out to those nameless, faceless recruiters in Cyberspace.
If that happens, don't panic. Remain calm. Re-format your resume. Proofread your cover letter (again). Then hit "Send". . .and get used to the sound of silence while a robot reviews your qualifications and deems if they are worthy of sending on to an actual (overworked) human.
I know, I know...I haven't posted in a while. I will spare you my feeble excuses. I wouldn't normally try to cheat by recycling old posts. But I am proud to say that the piece I wrote way back in April, "Cougars Bite", criticizing the whole "Cougar" phenomenon, was frankly ahead of its time. And it's now more relevant than ever.
The
bad news is, since I wrote that blog, the Cougar trend has only
grown. There are more Cougar-themed shows and movies than ever. ABC's
"Cougar Town",
starring Courteney Cox, premiered this week. I tried to watch it - I've gotta keep up on this Cougar stuff - but it was so excruciatingly horrible, I could hardly sit through even fifteen minutes (poor Courteney...one minute,
you're a cute, young "Friend", and the next thing you know, you're a
nasty, old Cougar).
What is it about this "Cougar" thing that has caused it to catch on with such a vengeance? This insidious label has clawed its way into the vernacular and taken hold - and I fear it may be here to stay.
The good news is, I'm suddenly hearing more and more anti-Cougar sentiment being expressed by women.
This month's issue of MORE magazine features an article by Candace Bushnell titled "Attack of theCougars". In it, she expresses a lot of the same sentiments I have (except she's rich and famous and gets published in MORE magazine).
In addition, I just came across a piece called "Don't Call Me a Cougar" posted on
Open Salon. The outpouring of comments that followed this blog would seem to indicate there is a growing attitude among women that we're mad as hell
about this ugly, sexist label and we're not gonna take it anymore.
I sure hope that's true. Because this whole Cougar thing is getting really old.
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