2008 Woodie Awards
Happiness or status---defining success
Lauren Barnard
Issue date: 2/9/07 Section: The LO Down
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How to get rich and Don't die in debt seem to be typical themes in my father's book collection. Ever since I was five years old, he always seems to be reading up on how to become a millionaire, or how to become successful.
The need to find the ever-elusive "success" is ingrained in our minds in early childhood. We were required to memorize the alphabet when we were five-years old, our times tables when we were eight. We would color pictures of what our dream job looked like and establish this feeling in our guts that we had to stay in school, ultimately attend college, so we could achieve that dream job.
I am a full time college student and I work part time in retail. It isn't a glamorous job in the slightest, but who needs glamour in college? This is supposed to be a time of struggle and learning. We are supposed to discover that working in retail is not fun and that a college degree will make our lives better.
We become inspired by our pitiful jobs at the mall, working at Hollister Co. for minimum wage and realizing that life as a "brand representative" is, contrary to popular belief, actually quite lame. These "ah-ha" moments of realization make us respect the path we have chosen---going to college and pursuing a degree.
At least once every few months a parent of an Ivy League college student will come into the photo lab-mailing center in which I work. They tend to mail care packages to their elite college-attending children. I always notice them sizing me up in their button down Nieman Marcus sweater. They eye me, ask me how old I am, and where I go to school, and ask "Have you figured out what you want to do yet?" I have figured out "what I want to do." What's it to them. Do they want to feel assured that the success of their child?
It is commonplace at parties to find yourself on a mingling spree, only come across at least one new face who asks you, "So, what do you do?" before they even know your name. Why don't people ask, "So, what makes you happy?"
Granted, in some situations people are made happy by their jobs, by what they "do." However, is that what makes us worthy of life these days---what we do for a living?
The rat race doesn't appear to be ending anytime soon. I will likely end up at a computer in a cubicle somewhere---New York City if I'm lucky. I'll be making mediocre money. I will always wonder though, what life without status would feel like.
The need to find the ever-elusive "success" is ingrained in our minds in early childhood. We were required to memorize the alphabet when we were five-years old, our times tables when we were eight. We would color pictures of what our dream job looked like and establish this feeling in our guts that we had to stay in school, ultimately attend college, so we could achieve that dream job.
I am a full time college student and I work part time in retail. It isn't a glamorous job in the slightest, but who needs glamour in college? This is supposed to be a time of struggle and learning. We are supposed to discover that working in retail is not fun and that a college degree will make our lives better.
We become inspired by our pitiful jobs at the mall, working at Hollister Co. for minimum wage and realizing that life as a "brand representative" is, contrary to popular belief, actually quite lame. These "ah-ha" moments of realization make us respect the path we have chosen---going to college and pursuing a degree.
At least once every few months a parent of an Ivy League college student will come into the photo lab-mailing center in which I work. They tend to mail care packages to their elite college-attending children. I always notice them sizing me up in their button down Nieman Marcus sweater. They eye me, ask me how old I am, and where I go to school, and ask "Have you figured out what you want to do yet?" I have figured out "what I want to do." What's it to them. Do they want to feel assured that the success of their child?
It is commonplace at parties to find yourself on a mingling spree, only come across at least one new face who asks you, "So, what do you do?" before they even know your name. Why don't people ask, "So, what makes you happy?"
Granted, in some situations people are made happy by their jobs, by what they "do." However, is that what makes us worthy of life these days---what we do for a living?
The rat race doesn't appear to be ending anytime soon. I will likely end up at a computer in a cubicle somewhere---New York City if I'm lucky. I'll be making mediocre money. I will always wonder though, what life without status would feel like.
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