Gen Y: a state of being

Ah yes, a young person with too much time on her hands starts a blog, it really is only a matter of time before she starts ranting about the whole Generation Y thing.  Gen Ys kinda arch up at the way we are depicted in the media etc, and it is often justified – we get a really bad wrap for our anti-social and ungrateful ways. However, I am not about to arch up* because I am, quite frankly, both anti-social and ungrateful.

But I am going to argue that Gen Y is not an age bracket, or even a generation at all – but a state of being. How many older people (men often) do you know who have an iPhone and know all the lingo and play video games etc etc etc? Like at least 4 right? If everyone knows at least 2 that’s actually quite a significant percentage of the population acting like Gen Y-ers who aren’t Gen Y-ers at all.

And, on the other hand, I know a bunch of well-dressed, well-spoken, organised, punctual, grateful, respectful and generally perfect humans who are 18-25 years old. Can we really call these people Gen Y? Sure, they were born in the 15 or so years after the Gen Xers all grew up, but they don’t fit any of the other defining characteristics. They fail at being Gen Y, which should technically make them win at life in the eyes of older people. It never seems to redeem them though; those poor fucks get lumped in with the rest of us despite their good personal hygiene and lack of twitter accounts.

So, dear reader – you might be asking yourself now, ‘shit, am I Gen Y or not?’ This seems like a pretty stupid thing to be asking yourself, given that you are currently reading a blog and probably simultaneously watching a Youtube video, illegally downloading songs and eating nutella from the jar. But anyway, there is a sure fire way to test your Gen Y status. I speak from absolute experience on this:

Ask yourself, have you ever been lying in bed at night in a location (probably a fabulous holiday location) with little reception and been so desperate for contact with the outside world (be it text, tweet or status) but too lazy to get up that you’ve sleepily held the phone high above your head, arm fully extended, and then DROPPED IT ON YOUR FACE? Well have you?

That is the moment dear friends, when you must concede that no matter how old or socially adequate you are, you do in fact belong to that technophilic, whiney, disrespectful cohort known as Gen Y. Welcome, we’re looking for people to start a social netball team.

*Except to say that it is almost predominantly members of Generation Y (and little old ladies) who consistently thank the driver when they get off the bus. I’m just sayin’…