Life Before Noon: A Millennial’s Manual

So, I landed a job and now there’s no turning back. The New York Times published an article last week about this very situation, college graduates who have had the last summer vacation of their lives. It all sounds very traumatic, and overdramatic. And I can’t help but hear an alarm going off in my mind. There’s this small sense of panic, maybe even claustrophobia.

But, in my new reality, there’s no room for panic. Even when the alarm is ringing at full force, I’ve got to get up, get dressed and get to work.

It was in my first week of work, when I boarded my very first Washington, D.C. metrobus, that I realized public transportation really is the embodiment of this new life.

Navigating the bus line is my Everest. When I have successfully mastered it, I believe I will finally be able to relax and set my panic at ease. (Biking is reserved for year two).

The bus is a complicated system of turns, colors and timing (albeit, fairly inaccurate timing). Mastering it is a true, never-ending test of patience. Some days I’m tapping my foot and anxiously checking my watch. I’ll hop on any bus that comes my way. I’m desperate.

Other days, I’m riding easy with space and time to spare.

Sometimes, I’m crammed up against all kinds of people like a sardine. Obsessively thinking about how I can’t wait to get to work and wash my hands.

But, isn’t that life? I may be rushing through projects, desperate to get things done, desperate to succeed - to prove to myself (and others) that I was hired for a reason. I might be crossing my fingers in hopes that the right thing comes along at the right time.

Or, I may be crammed back in a corner, with a full schedule and a full plate, pushing myself out the door to “freedom.”

Or, I may be rested and relaxed taking it all in stride and calmly getting it done. 

Sometimes, I might be going at it alone. Other times I may be seated alongside someone who’s in it with me.

Oh and some days I may be onboard the bus with a sleepy driver who slams on brakes causing me to be thrown across my seat and slammed up against a divider. I won’t even plunge into the wealth of metaphors that situation provides.

This is the metrobus that is my life.

-Rachel

Sunday, June 8. Workday eve.

It’s the eve of my first day of work. My outfit is laid out, including my summertime slingbacks. I’ve read the first of my orientation materials, rounded up the necessary documents and planned out my commute. I imagined being more nervous. But, I’m going back to where I interned last summer. So, I’m already a little ahead of the game.

Monday, June 9. The first day, accompanied by a complementary heat wave.

I got on the wrong bus. But, I wasn’t too far off. I ended up with an unexpected speed walking session. Thanks to the intense D.C. summer heat, it took me the first hour of orientation to cool off. Only 58 minutes after my photo was taken and distributed in a bulk e-mail to the whole office.

A review of company policies, a Peruvian lunch and my first RFP filled up my afternoon.

Tuesday, June 10: The conference call.

I got on the right bus, but got off one stop too early. Practice makes perfect, right?

I arrived early for my first conference call as a full-time hire. I was the designated note taker. I sat anxiously in the room alone for a few minutes. I was dreading someone coming on the line before there was another person in the room with me. This morning, luck was on my side.

Working for a global company, I understand the necessity of conference calling. Especially working with a mix of generations and cultures, communicating strictly via e-mail could be problematic. Although in some cases conference calling can be unproductive (as can any meeting), there are ways to maximize  productivity.

Even though I’ve been part of conference calls, there’s added pressure in my new position. I need to summon the courage to contribute meaningfully. Plus, I’m still not sure of the conference call etiquette.

I imagine there’s much more of the same ahead of, and many more unexpected things as well. I bet next week I’ll have the bus all figured out…

Rachel

Last week, I spent some quality time with my dad, a product of the final years of the Baby Boom. A diesel engine mechanic, my father’s true passion is in woodworking. In our reasonably sized backyard sits a woodshop that was carefully planned and executed by my dad himself. With the help of a few close friends, he moved our small shed across the backyard with a pulley system before piecing together the timber frame of his shop.

At home, I’m surrounded by reminders of my dad’s talents-Windsor chairs, hope chests, the remodeled kitchen.

What my dad lacks in tech-savvy, he more than makes up for in ingenuity and skill. It seems to be quite the opposite for our generation. Our lack of ability for manual skilled labor is made up for in our ability to outsource and navigate the treacherous Internet.

Is one skill set better than the other? No, we’re all just cogs in the wheel, right? But, in a society that continues to value information and knowledge, the value we place in these types of labor decreases.

Last year, The Daily Herald, of Everett, Wash., published an article discussing the shortage of young people wanting to take labor jobs. The arguments for this problem touched on perceived laziness of Generation Y and emphasis on academics not vocations.

We all reserve the right to choose our own path in life. For many of us, that path does not lead to woodworking or engine mechanics. But, in the absence of those paths, are the men and women of Generation Y losing out on the understanding of what it feels like to physically create something? To build something, or make something work with our own two hands (no computer involved)?

I can’t remember the last time I put something together that didn’t come with Ikea instructions.

-Rachel