A few days ago, I took issue with some comments around the blawgosphere from Gen Y (“Y” for whiners).  I’ve been accused of harping on the subject, as some don’t like to hear anything beyond how special they are, and perhaps the subject has been beaten to death around here.  But a post at Bad Court Thingy, responding to my geriatric vitriol, was just so good that it warranted one more post.

Before getting to the beef, there’s one thing about Bad Court Thingy that demands note:  The name.  Where did this seemingly bizarre name for a blog come from, asks the silly old man.  The explanation:

The Simpsons were a big and probably unhealthy influence to me growing up. There’s a good chance that explains what’s wrong with my generation. Lionel Hutz, the sleazy attorney was always one of my favorite secondary characters on the show. The title of my blog comes from an exchange between Hutz and Judge Synder, from the Marge In Chains episode.

Hutz: And so, ladies and gentleman of the jury I rest my case.
Judge: Hmmm. Mr. Hutz, do you know that you’re not wearing any pants?
Hutz: DAAAA!! I move for a bad court thingy.
Judge: You mean a mistrial?
Hutz: Right!! That’s why you’re the judge and I’m the law-talking guy.
Judge: You mean the lawyer?
Hutz: Right.

The Simpsons.  Could it get any more Gen Y than that?

So BCT, painting me as Mr. Wilson (do they know who Mr. Wilson is?), so prune-like and cantankerous as to delight in  “telling the neighborhood kids they can’t have their Frisbee back” while listening to my Victrola (did they ever play Stairway to Heaven on a turntable?), explains the world.

First up, we’re [the] product of feel-good, Boomer parents. We’ve been raised by children of the sixties and Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers Neighborhood to believe that our happiness is the most important thing in the whole wide world, and if something doesn’t make you happy, it’s not worth doing. We’ve been told how special and unique each one of us is, and we can do anything we want.

Guilty.  When you were very little, and afraid that you couldn’t kick the ball as far or as hard as little Jimmy, we didn’t want you to cry and run away.  We wanted to encourage you to keep trying, to be the best Little Bad Court Thingy you could be. 

But we never told you that if it didn’t make you happy, it wasn’t worth doing.  We wanted you to keep trying, not give up.  You got the message wrong.  But this was our fault, since so many of you got the same message.  So it is our fault for sending the wrong message.  But you were only six years old then.  We thought you would grow up eventually.

Then, throw in our consumer culture. I have no idea if our society has always placed such a high value on material goods, probably not to the extent it does now. From shows like MTV Cribs and My Sweet 16 and fashion magazines, our media is sending the message that unless you have the best house/car/clothes/gadgets/party, you’re worthless.

Guilty.  We didn’t have “things” like this when we were young.  They didn’t exist.  Or if they did, our parents, products of the war and perhaps even the depression, were too frugal to buy us trinkets.  We saw things as they were invented that we thought were cool, and swore that someday, when we had kids, we would give them the things that our parents denied us.  So we did.  And it gave rise to the consumer culture that now permeates society, and is causing us such distress as people sacrifice their financial security to buy stuff for themselves, their kids, and, mostly, proof of their existence. 

The irony of the consumer economy is that the 60s was a time of anti-materialism.  We rejected our parents desperate need to show their financial stability through a shiny new car and the house in the suburbs.  But as we grew up, and had children who demanded meal after meal, and who only seemed to smile when we bought them a new toy (and we so dearly wanted our children to smile), we fell right back into the parent trap.

Real life, however, does not care if what you’re supposed to do makes you happy. Real life doesn’t care if your billable hours are making you depressed. And therein lies the first problem, we’ve been told if it doesn’t make us happy, its not worth doing. But if not having the latest iPhone (which I really want) means you’re not the cool kid on the block, then what do you do?

The simple answer is, you suck it up and play the game. 

Exactly.  That’s the point.  No, neither Little Jimmy nor Little Bad Court Thingy are going to be TV stars or the president or get to sit in front of a Wii and have BMWs magically appear outside their door.  Our day will be over soon.  We’re getting older and you are coming into your own.  We may not like the idea of handing over the reins, but it’s going to happen no matter what.

We thought you would watch us and understand that there’s a lot of life that sucks.  It always has, and success is understanding that it will be a struggle, that there will be accomplishments and setbacks, but that you still have to keep pushing through.  Ten percent inspiration and 90% perspiration. 

What we never expected was that you would take Mr. Rogers seriously.  It was a kids show, a young kids show at that.  We thought it was fine for the age, but that you would grow out of it. 

So why isn’t Generation Y convinced that partnership is next to godliness, why isn’t there any loyalty to the firms that gave these young attorneys a job? Because we’ve watched what has happened to our parents generation. Jobs have been cut, downsized, rightsized, outsourced, and every other euphemism for being fired. Maybe this is just me because I grew up in the Rust Belt, but I’ve seen it way too often. People getting fired who did everything they were supposed to do. Go to college, get a useful degree, be a loyal company man or woman; and then get told we’re paying you too much, we can hire 3 people right out of college for what we pay you. Assuming they’re not shipping your job to India.

Again, true.  But this was part of the lesson that life was difficult and unfair.  Do everything “right” and there’s still no guarantee that you get the gold watch at the end.  We wanted to teach you that if the going gets tough, the tough get going.  Instead, you learned to quit and whine about it.  So our message didn’t get across very well.

My take on it all is this. Very few people are truly happy at their jobs. I’m actually a little suspicious of any lawyer who says they love what they do. But at some point, you make a decision. You either find take a job that keeps you financially comfortable and hope your soul doesn’t rot away. Or, take the chance and do something you really want to do. My generation needs to realize that the Boomers are still running the show, and ultimately they’re the ones setting the rules, for now. Yeah, not getting the BMW right away might suck (I’d rather have a Cadillac myself). Wearing a suit isn’t always fun. But those are the rules as they stand right now.

Not everyone is treated like garbage.  Somebody gets to sit in the corner office.  We wanted to make you strong and independent, capable of being the one to grab that golden ring.  We wanted you to want the BMW, but expected that it would be the incentive for you to work hard, achieve and earn it for yourself.  We thought you would have a wonderful childhood, but that eventually you would grow up and come to terms with reality.

For too many, they have rejected reality and thrown a temper tantrum.  We’re not going to play. Waahhh.  It’s too hard.  Waaahhhh.  It’s not fair.  Waaahhhh.  But you are correct, the message we hoped to teach was not communicated properly, and you received the wrong one.  That’s our fault.

But now you are grown up.  To the extent the boomers failed to deliver, get over it.  Who do you plan to whine to when we’re gone?  We won’t be there to wipe your noses or your bottoms, so you better be able to wipe them yourselves.

But Boomers, be nice to us. We’ll be picking out your nursing homes.

We may have been too nice to you.  And you will have the opportunity to pay us back one day.  Our biggest fear isn’t that you will put us in some disgusting nursing home, but that there won’t be anyone operating nursing homes because you will all be sitting in your childhood bedrooms playing computer games, waiting for mom to bring you an afternoon snack.

Boomers wanted their kids to succeed, to be more brilliant, more successful, happier than we were.  We did something very wrong, but now it’s up to our children to overcome our indulgent child-rearing and figure out how to accomplish goals for themselves.  Whining, complaining, demanding, tattooing, piercing, quitting isn’t going to do it.  You have the tools to succeed.  Use them.  Despite us.