I walked past the local playground this morning and noticed something that set my Cranky Senior Citizen juices flowing. Loads of freshly-groomed sand sat beneath the sliding board and swings. We are molly-coddling our kids nowadays. First, it was car seats, then bicycle helmets, and now we're afraid that Tyler and Tiffany will skin their knees at the playground.
How are today's kids to experience the joy of soaring off the swings, skidding across asphalt paving, shredding their clothes, and picking chunks of gravel out of their bleeding brush burns? An asphalt-encrusted scab was the macho tattoo of yesteryear. Unlike the real tattoos that kids get today, it disappeared before age, gravity, and one-too-many beers caused it to sag embarrassingly.
The sand bed at the foot of the slide would slow down that final burst of speed that enabled us to run up the board and just barely reach the top. It was the defining mark of Big Kid Status to surmount the big sliding board. Today's mark of Big Kid Status is achieving mastery of "Grand Theft Auto".
Assuming they can tear themselves away from their video games, the "best and brightest" modern kids might scatter that sand at the bottom the slide on its surface and encourage their naive younger siblings to slide down a few times, polishing the surface for maximum speed before they take over. We would have done the same back in the day except it was a long walk to the Jersey shore for sand. We ingeniously lubricated the sliding board surface with a vigorous rub of waxed paper. Mom always wrapped out lunchtime sandwich in waxed paper, so using it on the slide was an early form of recycling.
Placing a sand cushion beneath playground equipment leads to kids getting tattoos, achieving status with video games instead of healthy exercise, and wasting our precious natural resources. Let's keep our playgrounds on asphalt where they belong.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Bike to Work Day
May is National Bike Month and its sponsor, the League of American Bicyclists, designated last Friday as Bike to Work Day.
Alas, it didn't really catch on. Route 22 was not jammed with bicyclists in spandex pedaling their way to work, laptops securely fastened to the handlebars, cell phones to their ears. By the way, don't text and pedal. A distracted bicyclist can easily become an unwilling hood ornament on a speeding 18-wheeler.
Perhaps the reason why Bike to Work Day failed was a lack of fashionable accessories. For women, the League of American Bicyclists recommends:
A skirt garter - Skirts are a summer office staple, but they make biking to work a gauntlet of leering passers-by. Simply fasten an elastic skirt garter to your leg and clip it to your skirt and it won't fly up when that redneck in the pick-up truck breezes by you in the passing lane. The skirt garter's Scottish cousin, the kilt garter, has protected the modesty of Highlanders for years. It was endorsed by Mel Gibson in his "Braveheart" days.
A helmet overlay - No one looks good in a bicycle helmet. You might as well insert your head in half of a hollowed-out bowling ball. And does anyone really believe that the little "wing" on the back really gives you downdraft and allows greater rear wheel traction (and hence speed)? Now, if bicyclists could wear a Darth Vader - type helmet, they would not only get head protection but they could intimidate motorists not unlike rogue motorcyclists. For the ladies, the League recommends a fabric helmet overlay that transforms your helmet outline to a bucket hat with brim. After all, Queen Elizabeth wears that sort of hat all the time. It must be the height of fashion.
Guys are not forgotten in the realm of bicycling fashion accessories:
Cycling shoes - These beauties have an indent on the sole to lock on to your pedals and a stiffening plate for efficient cycling. The only side effect is that wearers tip forward when walking. "Did the boss cycle to work today or is he leaning into the wind because of a three martini lunch?"
Biking Trousers - Spandex shorts do not comply with most Corporate Casual dress codes. The bicycle commuter can opt for these trousers with built in clips to keep them from flapping into the chain and with reflecting panels for safety. "What's with these sparkly lights? Is that Charlie the Biker from Accounting walking down the hallway or did someone turn on the disco ball again?"
Biking Shirt - Most workplaces do not have locker and shower facilities. Bike commuting in summer can be a sweaty proposition. Enter the Biking Shirt. It is not only lightweight and wrinkle-resistant, but it features "sweat wicking" material and has a mesh panel in the back shoulder area so all that perspiration can migrate there and evaporate away. The mesh panel can then be covered with a snap-fastened matching fabric. "Charlie, please snap on your mesh panel cover! I don't care if you're not done sweating. Your back hair is grossing out our best customer."
Maybe Bike to Work Day needs a bit more than fashion accessories to catch on.
Alas, it didn't really catch on. Route 22 was not jammed with bicyclists in spandex pedaling their way to work, laptops securely fastened to the handlebars, cell phones to their ears. By the way, don't text and pedal. A distracted bicyclist can easily become an unwilling hood ornament on a speeding 18-wheeler.
Perhaps the reason why Bike to Work Day failed was a lack of fashionable accessories. For women, the League of American Bicyclists recommends:
A skirt garter - Skirts are a summer office staple, but they make biking to work a gauntlet of leering passers-by. Simply fasten an elastic skirt garter to your leg and clip it to your skirt and it won't fly up when that redneck in the pick-up truck breezes by you in the passing lane. The skirt garter's Scottish cousin, the kilt garter, has protected the modesty of Highlanders for years. It was endorsed by Mel Gibson in his "Braveheart" days.
A helmet overlay - No one looks good in a bicycle helmet. You might as well insert your head in half of a hollowed-out bowling ball. And does anyone really believe that the little "wing" on the back really gives you downdraft and allows greater rear wheel traction (and hence speed)? Now, if bicyclists could wear a Darth Vader - type helmet, they would not only get head protection but they could intimidate motorists not unlike rogue motorcyclists. For the ladies, the League recommends a fabric helmet overlay that transforms your helmet outline to a bucket hat with brim. After all, Queen Elizabeth wears that sort of hat all the time. It must be the height of fashion.
Guys are not forgotten in the realm of bicycling fashion accessories:
Cycling shoes - These beauties have an indent on the sole to lock on to your pedals and a stiffening plate for efficient cycling. The only side effect is that wearers tip forward when walking. "Did the boss cycle to work today or is he leaning into the wind because of a three martini lunch?"
Biking Trousers - Spandex shorts do not comply with most Corporate Casual dress codes. The bicycle commuter can opt for these trousers with built in clips to keep them from flapping into the chain and with reflecting panels for safety. "What's with these sparkly lights? Is that Charlie the Biker from Accounting walking down the hallway or did someone turn on the disco ball again?"
Biking Shirt - Most workplaces do not have locker and shower facilities. Bike commuting in summer can be a sweaty proposition. Enter the Biking Shirt. It is not only lightweight and wrinkle-resistant, but it features "sweat wicking" material and has a mesh panel in the back shoulder area so all that perspiration can migrate there and evaporate away. The mesh panel can then be covered with a snap-fastened matching fabric. "Charlie, please snap on your mesh panel cover! I don't care if you're not done sweating. Your back hair is grossing out our best customer."
Maybe Bike to Work Day needs a bit more than fashion accessories to catch on.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
If a Tree Falls
After Tuscaloosa and Joplin, tornadoes are on everyone's mind. What to do when a twister is bearing down? Retreat to the storm cellar? Is a regular cellar with a few windows good enough? Climb in the bath tub? There may not be room for all family members plus pets. Frankly, I'd rather stretch out next to Fido than Aunt Sally. Fido smells better. How about being pulled up by the twister, house and all, and landing in Oz?
Last night, a funnel cloud passed over, but thankfully did not touch down on, the Lehigh Valley. 68 mph winds did rush past our humble homestead though. That crack we heard while huddled in the basement was not lightning, but the death throes of a good portion of the aged maple tree in our front yard. When the worst of the rain had passed, we cleared it from the street as best we could and awaited morning light to finish the job. There was no sign of a deceased, shriveled-up Wicked Witch.
Back in the 1950s, neighbors pulled together in time of need. Nowadays, we only see neighbors when we pull out of our garages simultaneously and exchange nods. I'm pleased to report that neighborly cooperation is not dead in the new millennium. John from across the street bravely pitched in to hack, saw, and cut the storm's detritus. Everyone who walked or drove by offered to help. It restored my faith in human goodness. The Amish may have their cooperative barn raisings, but we suburbanites match that selflessness when a tree falls.
By the way, no one actually saw the tree fall, but I can answer the philosophical question that it certainly made one helluva noise when it did.
Lumberjacking is hard work. Just as I was reaching the limits of my endurance, a Township Public Works truck pulled up. "This isn't a township-owned tree and, thanks to your efforts, it's not blocking the street any more, but I'll tell you what. After we do some clean-up in the parks and such, we'll come by with our equipment and remove that for you."
Those were the most welcome words spoken since Auntie Em called Dorothy out of her daze.
First the neighbors pitch in to help, then our civil servants come through. That poor old tree brought out the best in human nature.
Last night, a funnel cloud passed over, but thankfully did not touch down on, the Lehigh Valley. 68 mph winds did rush past our humble homestead though. That crack we heard while huddled in the basement was not lightning, but the death throes of a good portion of the aged maple tree in our front yard. When the worst of the rain had passed, we cleared it from the street as best we could and awaited morning light to finish the job. There was no sign of a deceased, shriveled-up Wicked Witch.
Back in the 1950s, neighbors pulled together in time of need. Nowadays, we only see neighbors when we pull out of our garages simultaneously and exchange nods. I'm pleased to report that neighborly cooperation is not dead in the new millennium. John from across the street bravely pitched in to hack, saw, and cut the storm's detritus. Everyone who walked or drove by offered to help. It restored my faith in human goodness. The Amish may have their cooperative barn raisings, but we suburbanites match that selflessness when a tree falls.
By the way, no one actually saw the tree fall, but I can answer the philosophical question that it certainly made one helluva noise when it did.
Lumberjacking is hard work. Just as I was reaching the limits of my endurance, a Township Public Works truck pulled up. "This isn't a township-owned tree and, thanks to your efforts, it's not blocking the street any more, but I'll tell you what. After we do some clean-up in the parks and such, we'll come by with our equipment and remove that for you."
Those were the most welcome words spoken since Auntie Em called Dorothy out of her daze.
First the neighbors pitch in to help, then our civil servants come through. That poor old tree brought out the best in human nature.
Monday, May 23, 2011
Goodbye, Ronald
No one is immune in this Era of Downsizing - even Ronald McDonald.
Last week, a group called Corporate Accountability International petitioned McDonald's to scrap the iconic clown with full-page newspaper ads. "We ask that you heed our concern and retire your marketing promotions for food high in salt, fat, sugar, and calories to children whatever form they take - from Ronald McDonald to toy giveaways."
A McDonald's press release replied that Ronald is "a force for good". It claimed that Ronald is "a balanced, active lifestyles ambassador, an active athletic clown who plays soccer, shoots hoops, and encourages kids to make healthy lifestyle choices." The Golden Arches note that he is the most famous fast-food mascot beating out Jared the Subway Guy and the Burger King".
Still, one imagines the scene at McDonald's World Headquarters when Ronald is given the inevitable boot:
"Ronald, it is time to pack up your personal belongings and hand in your ID Badge and Parking Pass. The jackbooted Security Guard is here to make sure you don't take any corporate property out the door with you. When we ditched Mayor McCheese, he took a stapler and the Hamburglar absconded with boxes of copier paper."
"Why me, boss? Didn't you just tell the press that I'm a force for good and more popular than Subway Jared or the Burger King?"
"Force for good? Habitat for Humanity is "good", but doesn't make enough profits to keep their CEO in private jets and tax-free offshore investments. This is American Capitalism, son! Good has nothing to do with it. As for Jared and the BK, bear in mind that a Cockney-accented, animated talking lizard is the most popular corporate spokesman nowadays. Popularity is merely a matter of exposure. You will be forgotten quicker than Speedy Alka-Seltzer."
"But, boss what am I to do now? I'm 48 years old and pushing burgers and fries is all I know. Can I stay at a Ronald McDonald House until I find something else?"
"Sorry, Ronald. We gave Grimace a temporary job as a turn-down maid at a Ronald McDonald House and he kept spilling the fries when he put them on our guest's pillows. The grease and salt penetrated our guest's scalps and they ended up in the hospital worse off than their sick kids. We had to move a ton of Shamrock Shakes to pay them off."
"I hate to threaten you, boss. If you let me go, I'll reveal the formula for the Big Mac Special Sauce."
"Go ahead, Ronald. Everyone knows that the "Special Sauce" is Thousand Island Dressing. Shout it from the rooftops if you want. But if you do, we have lots of high-powered lawyers here with nothing to do who would love to sue you for revealing trade secrets. We also have a few friends who have molds for very large concrete overshoes and would be only too happy to fit you for a pair and take you diving in Lake Michigan. By the way, have you heard from Mayor McCheese lately? He went for a boat trip with our friends a while ago."
And so it ends. Crestfallen, Ronald removes the make-up, turns in the yellow jumper and fades into history with Bucky Beaver, The Jolly Green Giant, Mr Whipple, The Maytag Repairman, and so many advertising icons of the past
Last week, a group called Corporate Accountability International petitioned McDonald's to scrap the iconic clown with full-page newspaper ads. "We ask that you heed our concern and retire your marketing promotions for food high in salt, fat, sugar, and calories to children whatever form they take - from Ronald McDonald to toy giveaways."
A McDonald's press release replied that Ronald is "a force for good". It claimed that Ronald is "a balanced, active lifestyles ambassador, an active athletic clown who plays soccer, shoots hoops, and encourages kids to make healthy lifestyle choices." The Golden Arches note that he is the most famous fast-food mascot beating out Jared the Subway Guy and the Burger King".
Still, one imagines the scene at McDonald's World Headquarters when Ronald is given the inevitable boot:
"Ronald, it is time to pack up your personal belongings and hand in your ID Badge and Parking Pass. The jackbooted Security Guard is here to make sure you don't take any corporate property out the door with you. When we ditched Mayor McCheese, he took a stapler and the Hamburglar absconded with boxes of copier paper."
"Why me, boss? Didn't you just tell the press that I'm a force for good and more popular than Subway Jared or the Burger King?"
"Force for good? Habitat for Humanity is "good", but doesn't make enough profits to keep their CEO in private jets and tax-free offshore investments. This is American Capitalism, son! Good has nothing to do with it. As for Jared and the BK, bear in mind that a Cockney-accented, animated talking lizard is the most popular corporate spokesman nowadays. Popularity is merely a matter of exposure. You will be forgotten quicker than Speedy Alka-Seltzer."
"But, boss what am I to do now? I'm 48 years old and pushing burgers and fries is all I know. Can I stay at a Ronald McDonald House until I find something else?"
"Sorry, Ronald. We gave Grimace a temporary job as a turn-down maid at a Ronald McDonald House and he kept spilling the fries when he put them on our guest's pillows. The grease and salt penetrated our guest's scalps and they ended up in the hospital worse off than their sick kids. We had to move a ton of Shamrock Shakes to pay them off."
"I hate to threaten you, boss. If you let me go, I'll reveal the formula for the Big Mac Special Sauce."
"Go ahead, Ronald. Everyone knows that the "Special Sauce" is Thousand Island Dressing. Shout it from the rooftops if you want. But if you do, we have lots of high-powered lawyers here with nothing to do who would love to sue you for revealing trade secrets. We also have a few friends who have molds for very large concrete overshoes and would be only too happy to fit you for a pair and take you diving in Lake Michigan. By the way, have you heard from Mayor McCheese lately? He went for a boat trip with our friends a while ago."
And so it ends. Crestfallen, Ronald removes the make-up, turns in the yellow jumper and fades into history with Bucky Beaver, The Jolly Green Giant, Mr Whipple, The Maytag Repairman, and so many advertising icons of the past
Friday, May 20, 2011
NFL Lockout Explained
The National Football League lockout is very confusing to most fans. Professional football is the proverbial "goose that laid the golden egg". Both team owners and players are making tons of money while we fans are feeding the goose with $80 ticket prices and high TV ratings. Imagine the foie gras from that baby. Yum!
Pundits claim that the lockout is a battle over money between billionaires (owners) and millionaires (players). The inevitable result is even-higher ticket prices and more commercial breaks during telecasts. Instead of the current three plays, (commercial break), punt, (commercial break), inevitable punt return penalty, (commercial break), three plays, we are sure to see commercial breaks between plays and possibly while the punt is in the air.
This enticing possibility is why I am rooting for the owners in the NFL lockout. As a semi-incontinent (especially with a few beers in me) senior citizen, the more commercial / bathroom breaks during a game, the better. Is the lockout not a clash of billionaires vs. millionaires but truly a battle between the generations? "In this corner, with a prostate the size of a softball and bladder capacity measured in millililters, we have NFL owners and older fans. In the opposite corner sporting a jock strap, a protective cup, and a lace-up fly that takes 10 minutes to loosen and not having urinated since they woke up this morning because they don't have to, we have the NFL players and young fans."
Still, there must be a Point of Diminishing Returns. NFL telecasts cannot be 80% commercials / 20% action, can they?
Ponder this, Hockey and soccer have the fewest commercial interruptions of any televised sports and the lowest ratings. It is not like Wegman's sells out of wings and salsa for Stanley Cup or World Cup parties, but try getting a Giant Hoagie at the last minute on Super Bowl Sunday. More commercial breaks means more bathroom visits and more snacking opportunities.
Oh yeah, I'm rooting for the owners.
Pundits claim that the lockout is a battle over money between billionaires (owners) and millionaires (players). The inevitable result is even-higher ticket prices and more commercial breaks during telecasts. Instead of the current three plays, (commercial break), punt, (commercial break), inevitable punt return penalty, (commercial break), three plays, we are sure to see commercial breaks between plays and possibly while the punt is in the air.
This enticing possibility is why I am rooting for the owners in the NFL lockout. As a semi-incontinent (especially with a few beers in me) senior citizen, the more commercial / bathroom breaks during a game, the better. Is the lockout not a clash of billionaires vs. millionaires but truly a battle between the generations? "In this corner, with a prostate the size of a softball and bladder capacity measured in millililters, we have NFL owners and older fans. In the opposite corner sporting a jock strap, a protective cup, and a lace-up fly that takes 10 minutes to loosen and not having urinated since they woke up this morning because they don't have to, we have the NFL players and young fans."
Still, there must be a Point of Diminishing Returns. NFL telecasts cannot be 80% commercials / 20% action, can they?
Ponder this, Hockey and soccer have the fewest commercial interruptions of any televised sports and the lowest ratings. It is not like Wegman's sells out of wings and salsa for Stanley Cup or World Cup parties, but try getting a Giant Hoagie at the last minute on Super Bowl Sunday. More commercial breaks means more bathroom visits and more snacking opportunities.
Oh yeah, I'm rooting for the owners.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
USA All the Way
Americans are falling behind the rest of the world in many endeavors. Two of the top five basketball prospects in the upcoming NBA draft are guys from Turkey and Lithuania. Hey, we invented basketball! The top-selling cars in the world are Japanese. Henry Ford would be appalled. The Russian AK-47 is the weapon of choice for insurgents. What ever happened to the All-American M-16?
The USA still dominates in Competitive Eating, however. Californian Joey Chestnut will defend his Cheesesteak Eating title this weekend at Dorney Park. He will try to break his record of 19 sandwiches in 10 minutes. Let's see those Turks or Lithuanians top that. USA! USA!
Of course, competitive eating can be a marathon as well as a sprint. Americans rule long-term eating as well. The Associated Press reported yesterday, "A retired prison guard ate his 25,000th Big Mac this week, 39 years to the day after eating his first. Don Gorski was honored after reaching the meaty milestone during a ceremony at McDonald's in his hometown of Fond du Lac, Wisconsin."
Let's put Don's achievement in perspective. 25,000 Big Macs divided by 39 years times 365 days equals about 1.75 double-decker sandwiches every day since May,1972. Old Don has chowed down nearly two Big Macs every day since gas was $0.30 per gallon, and we had to actually get up and turn a knob to change the channel on our TV sets. Dinosaurs may have also roamed the earth in that long-ago era. That is real dedication to The Golden Arches.
Assuming 1/4 pound of meat in each Big Mac and 800 pounds of meat per beef cow, Don has consumed eight entire steers, more or less. Fortunately, Wisconsin, "America's Dairyland", has bovines to spare.
But what about Don's health? McDonald's lists the Big Mac at 576 calories. 3,500 retained calories result in one pound of fat added to the human waistline. If Don didn't exercise over the past 39 years, he would have put on 4,100 pounds. That would be a problem. On the bright side, even the most unruly prisoners would not mess with a 4,000 lb guard.
How much would Don have to exercise to work off those 25,000 Big Macs? Running burns 750 calories per hour. If Don chased his prisoners around the yard for 19,200 hours or about 1.5 hours per day, he could retain the slim, girlish figure that he started with back in '72.
Foreigners may be taking over in basketball, auto manufacture, and weaponry, but when it comes to Competitive Eating, both sprint and marathon, it's USA all the way.
The USA still dominates in Competitive Eating, however. Californian Joey Chestnut will defend his Cheesesteak Eating title this weekend at Dorney Park. He will try to break his record of 19 sandwiches in 10 minutes. Let's see those Turks or Lithuanians top that. USA! USA!
Of course, competitive eating can be a marathon as well as a sprint. Americans rule long-term eating as well. The Associated Press reported yesterday, "A retired prison guard ate his 25,000th Big Mac this week, 39 years to the day after eating his first. Don Gorski was honored after reaching the meaty milestone during a ceremony at McDonald's in his hometown of Fond du Lac, Wisconsin."
Let's put Don's achievement in perspective. 25,000 Big Macs divided by 39 years times 365 days equals about 1.75 double-decker sandwiches every day since May,1972. Old Don has chowed down nearly two Big Macs every day since gas was $0.30 per gallon, and we had to actually get up and turn a knob to change the channel on our TV sets. Dinosaurs may have also roamed the earth in that long-ago era. That is real dedication to The Golden Arches.
Assuming 1/4 pound of meat in each Big Mac and 800 pounds of meat per beef cow, Don has consumed eight entire steers, more or less. Fortunately, Wisconsin, "America's Dairyland", has bovines to spare.
But what about Don's health? McDonald's lists the Big Mac at 576 calories. 3,500 retained calories result in one pound of fat added to the human waistline. If Don didn't exercise over the past 39 years, he would have put on 4,100 pounds. That would be a problem. On the bright side, even the most unruly prisoners would not mess with a 4,000 lb guard.
How much would Don have to exercise to work off those 25,000 Big Macs? Running burns 750 calories per hour. If Don chased his prisoners around the yard for 19,200 hours or about 1.5 hours per day, he could retain the slim, girlish figure that he started with back in '72.
Foreigners may be taking over in basketball, auto manufacture, and weaponry, but when it comes to Competitive Eating, both sprint and marathon, it's USA all the way.
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
The Commencement Speaker Who Dared Tell the Truth
'Tis the season for college commencements. Proud parents and hungover graduates swelter in the hot sun as distinguished speakers implore them to "never stop learning" and to "reach for the stars."
By the way, a college's choice for its commencement speaker is a better indicator of its status than its US News & World Report ranking. The more prestigious institutes of higher learning bring in a Nobel Prize-winning artist, writer, or scientist to inspire the new graduates. Less-secure colleges grant honorary degrees to Captains of Industry and local politicos. There is less inspiration, but, hopefully, a hefty financial contribution from the grateful recipient.
What the newly-minted graduates need to hear at Commencement is not high-flying, cliched oratory, but down-to-earth advice as they venture from the ivy-covered Halls of Academe to the Post-It-covered walls of Cubicle World:
"Graduates, your life will change dramatically from this moment on. In college, you could roll out of bed at 7:45 AM, toss on shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops, neglect personal hygiene, stroll across the Quad and still make that 8:00 class. In the Real World (not to be confused with the TV show), you need to rise and shine at 6:00, shower (body odor easily wafts over cubicle walls), shave your face or legs (or both, depending on your gender or sexual proclivity), and don "corporate casual" clothing (including those foot coverings called "socks" that you haven't worn since last winter).
But I can do all that in a half-hour. Why get up at the ungodly hour of 6:00, you may ask. Because your daily commute is not a stroll across the Quad any more. It's thirty minutes of hell in rush hour traffic or on crowded public transportation the stress of which at will likely undo the benefits of that deodorant that you hopefully remembered to apply earlier. Always carry a back-up supply of anti-perspirant in your brief case, kids. Your co-workers will thank you for it.
Your working day in Cubicle World will be very different from your average day here on campus. Instead of dull, boring lectures and seminars leavened by transmitting hilarious You Tube videos and snarky comments on your trusty laptops, you will sit through dull, boring meetings with Corporate IT monitoring your tweets and IMs for anything remotely obscene or non-complimentary toward management. Resist the temptation to photo-shop the head of a talking gerbil onto the body of the Corporate Safety Director no matter how rodent-like his beady eyes and protruding teeth. You achieved everlasting fame when you photo-shopped Yoda's head onto Professor Smith back in Econ 101 and everyone high-fived you after class when you added the caption, "Invisible hand, it is, driving markets to efficiency", but a stunt like that will get you a pink slip in Cubicle World.
Your working day will eventually end. After the homeward commute, you are starving. In college, you waltzed in to a Dining Hall, swiped your meal card, and food magically appeared. In the Real World, there is no Lady in the Hair Net replenishing the trays on the steam table. You are the Lady in the Hair Net and that Hamburger Helper isn't going to cook itself. Or buy itself either.
Sure, this sounds scary, you may say, but I will get paid in Cubicle World. I never got paid in college and it was hard getting credit from the drug dealer down on the corner.
Ponder this, graduates! Your annual starting salary will likely be less than a year's tuition, room, board, and expenses here at college. Is it worth all those early morning wake-ups, forced personal hygiene, uncomfortable clothes, and humorless corporate management?"
At this point, the Class of 2011 might rise as one and demand re-admission to college. The parents of the Class of 2011 rush the dais and dismember the Commencement Speaker Who Dared Tell The Truth. Most juries would consider it an act of justifiable homicide.
By the way, a college's choice for its commencement speaker is a better indicator of its status than its US News & World Report ranking. The more prestigious institutes of higher learning bring in a Nobel Prize-winning artist, writer, or scientist to inspire the new graduates. Less-secure colleges grant honorary degrees to Captains of Industry and local politicos. There is less inspiration, but, hopefully, a hefty financial contribution from the grateful recipient.
What the newly-minted graduates need to hear at Commencement is not high-flying, cliched oratory, but down-to-earth advice as they venture from the ivy-covered Halls of Academe to the Post-It-covered walls of Cubicle World:
"Graduates, your life will change dramatically from this moment on. In college, you could roll out of bed at 7:45 AM, toss on shorts, a tank top, and flip-flops, neglect personal hygiene, stroll across the Quad and still make that 8:00 class. In the Real World (not to be confused with the TV show), you need to rise and shine at 6:00, shower (body odor easily wafts over cubicle walls), shave your face or legs (or both, depending on your gender or sexual proclivity), and don "corporate casual" clothing (including those foot coverings called "socks" that you haven't worn since last winter).
But I can do all that in a half-hour. Why get up at the ungodly hour of 6:00, you may ask. Because your daily commute is not a stroll across the Quad any more. It's thirty minutes of hell in rush hour traffic or on crowded public transportation the stress of which at will likely undo the benefits of that deodorant that you hopefully remembered to apply earlier. Always carry a back-up supply of anti-perspirant in your brief case, kids. Your co-workers will thank you for it.
Your working day in Cubicle World will be very different from your average day here on campus. Instead of dull, boring lectures and seminars leavened by transmitting hilarious You Tube videos and snarky comments on your trusty laptops, you will sit through dull, boring meetings with Corporate IT monitoring your tweets and IMs for anything remotely obscene or non-complimentary toward management. Resist the temptation to photo-shop the head of a talking gerbil onto the body of the Corporate Safety Director no matter how rodent-like his beady eyes and protruding teeth. You achieved everlasting fame when you photo-shopped Yoda's head onto Professor Smith back in Econ 101 and everyone high-fived you after class when you added the caption, "Invisible hand, it is, driving markets to efficiency", but a stunt like that will get you a pink slip in Cubicle World.
Your working day will eventually end. After the homeward commute, you are starving. In college, you waltzed in to a Dining Hall, swiped your meal card, and food magically appeared. In the Real World, there is no Lady in the Hair Net replenishing the trays on the steam table. You are the Lady in the Hair Net and that Hamburger Helper isn't going to cook itself. Or buy itself either.
Sure, this sounds scary, you may say, but I will get paid in Cubicle World. I never got paid in college and it was hard getting credit from the drug dealer down on the corner.
Ponder this, graduates! Your annual starting salary will likely be less than a year's tuition, room, board, and expenses here at college. Is it worth all those early morning wake-ups, forced personal hygiene, uncomfortable clothes, and humorless corporate management?"
At this point, the Class of 2011 might rise as one and demand re-admission to college. The parents of the Class of 2011 rush the dais and dismember the Commencement Speaker Who Dared Tell The Truth. Most juries would consider it an act of justifiable homicide.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)