I have recently run into two people of that ill-fated generation born to older Gen-Xers in their nihilism, and the degenerate Baby Boomer generation that proved Theodore Sturgeon’s old axiom that ‘Ninety-five percent of everything is crap’. It shall be the fate of this generation to slave away paying the unfunded liabilities that have bought the political complicity of their greedy comfort-seeking parents. Lack of loyalty seems to define this generation according to the marketing studies I perused a moment ago. This generational lack of loyalty is to me a good thing, a definitive asset for a person navigating an ocean of lies in a vessel built by believers in those very lies.
Jen
This young lady is a university student slaving way at the bottom of the fully evolved service economy. Alone among my many coworkers she speaks to me of ideas, character, behavior.
We met in a comical fashion. Having worked together as cashiers for a week or two I got onto the night crew. A few months later, after letting my beard grow, I showed up at her register to purchase my lunch. Not recognizing me she froze in terror as I made eye contact with her. I merely meant to say high. I could tell when she caught her breath and froze that she—like many of the cashiers who once worked under my protection as a supermarket manager—thought she was standing before a cashier stalker. For some reason, numerous white men in middle age attempt to crudely or creepily woe cashiers, as they are a captive audience. I reintroduced myself and she apologized. I told her, “There’s no need to apologize, you just thought that I was [and we now said the words together] a creepy old guy.”
For two years she called me Mister Creep Old Guy, until she found out I write, and then began calling me Mister Jim. Last week she told me she was leaving this job for a higher paying position at Wal-Mart. Here are her parting words.
I will miss our conversations, so expect me to email you. It’s so unusual to meet old people who are both funny and intelligent.
When I went for my orientation at Wal-Mart I felt like I was at a Scientology meeting and Sam Walton was L. Ron Hubbard.
Kurt
I ran into a former fighter of mine on the bus last week. He did not recognize me with the weight and the beard and when I introduced myself said, “Look at you Mister Jimmy, what are you up to?”
“Heading out to interview for Santa Claus jobs.”
“So you’re still crazy I see!”
I then asked him how his working life has been going since he left town three years ago.
I was out in Detroit working for GM as a temporary employee. We were building catalytic converters. The place was so desolate—I have never seen such an empty town. Everything is spread out, vacant, and empty in between. On some days you would be lucky to see a single person out and about. It would be a big deal, ‘Hello, how are you, nice to see a human being!’
GM had a lot of problems. Eventually a converter caught on fire or something and they shut us down, moved us back here, and laid us off. I am now on the road delivering overnight shipments. We just spent twelve hours packing up this one rich dude’s wife’s clothes to ship down to Florida. They spend the winters in Florida. Can you imagine that? I took some extra time making sure all of the boxes were sealed and labeled just how she wanted it—was worried my boss would be angry over the overtime, but he said that price was no object for this customer, that it just had to be done right.
The work is hard and steady which is good. I’ve got a wife and kids now and need to pay the bills. We are over in West Baltimore making ends meet.
People my age and older seem to decry the youth that has inherited the many burdens of American Empire as lacking in intellect and industry. Jen and Kurt are two examples that consideration and character are not dead among the people entering the work force at this time. I did note in both of them a healthy level of skepticism and suspicion concerning the ethics and aptitude of those who order the world they work in, which I take as a sign of an adaptable nature, a requirement I suspect of times to come. This generation of Americans is of necessity busier making a living than people of my generation were, and will lack the time to read extensively. For this reason I have tended toward shorter forms in writing fiction, and tended toward interpretive nonfiction reviews. It remains to be seen how their generation will react to supporting a massive class of affluent retirees as they themselves eke out a living.
"It remains to be seen how their generation will react to supporting a massive class of affluent retirees as they themselves eke out a living."
We like it not one fucking bit. The arrogant twats sold off our posterity for cheap crap from China, and ruined our future over their hysterical fear of the flu.
The Day of the Pillow can't come soon enough.