An elevator revelation

I'm fascinated by Gen Yers.

Why?

Because I am one. Because there are 90 million of us.

Because one day, the fate of our planet and our human race will fall gently or tumultuously into our precious little hands and I need to better understand what kind of minds will be in charge. It’s obvious to me that Gen Yers are searching for their place in the world; feeling for a motivation, a voice and an ability to create the foundations for change as well as a steady, reliable existence. But then again, I usually find that we’re all still just a bunch of kids.

This week I attended a networking event with a few of my colleagues, hosted by an international organization that works to unite Gen Y scholars from all over the world. I walked into the reception area to find that I was very underdressed and a bit out of my element. I can talk a big talk sometimes, but these Gen Yers seemed to walk a big walk. There were 70 or so students present, ranging in age from 18 to 24, from 35 different countries. Political science majors, international communication backgrounds, law, you name it. I was a Journalism major once at a state university in California, only because I loved to write, felt the need to have a Bachelors in something and was too chicken shit to stray too far from home… And here I was, somewhat lost at 25, surrounded by lively, super-intelligent, young individuals sharply dressed in pressed suits, ties and heals who were effortlessly networking away with public figures, event organizers and each other. 

We had been invited that afternoon by the conference director who kindly introduced us to some really great contacts; some important people to know in Prague and probably in life. And it was inspiring to see so many young people eager to learn, participate and make their mark on the world.

But, it eventually came time to leave. As we reached the elevators, my colleagues and I realized we wouldn’t be getting to the first floor any time soon; the lifts were packed and the lobby was full. When the one nearest us eventually opened, I walked swiftly to the back and closed my eyes; it seems that each passing year brings with it a more intense fear of tight places. Everyone crammed together, sensors causing the doors to open and shut. The last woman squeezed in as the group from inside insisted she’d fit; what was one more? Cameras flashed, we squished some more. Loud, uncomfortable and seven floors down...

I have no idea why, but it’s during these probably meaningless, insignificant, senseless times that I wonder whether the efforts by my generation will actually turn into some tangible results. Will we ever possess the poise, knowledge and experience to make an effective impact at all? Or are we moving with the best of intentions… finding we’re just along for the ride.

Comments

Posted on 7/23/2009 by

Beth Mitchell

good thing no one farted!!!!

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