Chandler

I’m having a lot of trouble with this piece. You wanted me to look at kids who grew up too soon, right? So I thought I’d talk to people who were getting married at like, 20, 21—like our parents probably did. I don’t know why my parents got married, but everyone I talk to tends to do it because they’re really religious. Most people aren’t getting married anymore, not this young, anyways, because the focus has shifted to travelling, working, not to mention, fucking a lot of people. Anyways—I didn’t think there was much of a story in religious people getting married, since that’s something that seems pretty cut and dry.

But everyone has to graduate. Despite the popularity of the fifth and sixth year “victory lap,” we all have to leave the hallowed halls of U of T sometime. I remember being confronted with this possibility in first year, after receiving an email from student services about a seminar on “What to do with your English or Philosophy degree.” I was a little baffled. Hell, I never thought there was going to be an upside to my humanities degree that didn’t involve academia. And I was correct. The presenter gave us an example of someone who used their English degree’s “critical reading skills” to read a book on fixing computers and then started up their own computer repair company. I don’t know how the rest of it went because that scared me and I left. I’m not even particularly sure that I need to do something. I’ve been middling along in school for quite some time now—and this summer is going to be the first time in my life that my September isn’t planned. The idea that I get to work for a living—even if I’m just at a bar—is kind of appealing. So is the comfort of another September in school. But there are lots of people for whom graduation is a frightening prospect, and they’ve started laying out the brickwork for their lives.

I think I might remember Benjamin Bach. I saw him sunk in a chair at a house party in my first year. Later on, when someone told me that he dropped out of school to start a real estate company, I shot him an email. This is what he said to me: “I was speaking to a family friend who had recently started a real estate business, and she suggested it was an entrepreneurial venture I should take a look at—she thought I would be natural…When I decided I was finished at U of T, after my third year of political science and American history, I decided to start a real estate business.” This sounds like the perfect decision—Ben knew exactly what he wanted to do, and took a stab at it. As a bonus, he got to drop U of T before they were done with him. Adds Ben, “I’ve had some success with my business; I won the Gold Award for Favourite Real Estate Agent by Kitchener Record, the local paper…I’ve helped my clients buy and sell millions and millions of dollars worth of real estate—everything from a condo for $106,000, to a 31-unit apartment building for over $2 million.”

The last thing I accomplished was a B+ paper.

There’s no quarter-life crisis for Ben. He made the nine-to-five transition smoothly. Not even his parents posed a problem— “They knew that I wasn’t receiving great academic benefit from my time at U of T”—and he doesn’t give a shit about anyone his age who doesn’t understand—“Some people look at me like I’m nuts when I tell them I have a business and wake up early and work hard. I sort of think they’re nuts.” Ben’s Facebook profile also features clips of himself giving motivational speeches— there is not a trace of existential angst in this 24-year-old.

I remember Pedram Kaya as the guy who wore a suit and tie to the JCR en route to his job as finance commissioner of the UC Lit. A while back, I ran into him and he told me he was already working full-time at an accounting agency—at age 23. I turned 21 a month ago, and the bar I work at hasn’t opened up for business yet.

“The reason I started working immediately was mostly due to the opportunity that presented itself. At U of T St. George, the commerce program invites recruiters to campus representing major employers in the worlds of finance, accounting, and the like, to showcase the opportunities their organizations can provide to graduating students.” Pedram was considering moving on to a post graduate degree, but it’s hard to say no when employers come into your house. I don’t remember the last philosophy company that asked to hire me.

His work experience has gone well—he makes plenty of money, gets to travel, and loves what he does. I think he owns a Porsche, too. At the point of graduation, he still had some trepidation: “Well, honestly, I didn’t know I was sure until about September of 2005…I was anxious about what would happen if I didn’t get an offer, and as far as I was concerned, I was totally alright with continuing along with my status quo, which would have been to perhaps take a year off to travel, and spend time with my family…I mean, you can plan all you want, but at the end of the day, there is no guarantee that the path you want, or what you know, as you saw, will actually happen.”

I think being a grown up means making decisions. The people I interviewed know what they want, go after it, and now they’re reaping the benefits. So is it no risk, no reward, or high risk, high reward? Despite working the dreaded nine-to-five, Pedram is all smiles: “As for regret…no, sir. I am very happy right now…getting a steady paycheque is great, but what’s better is getting up in the morning and knowing that you’re going to have fun today. And I think that’s the point—if work, or travel, or class, or just moping around is what will make one happy, then do it and don’t look back.”

I’m certain that if I started working in an office, my brain would shut down. Maybe I’ve watched Office Space one too many times, but isn’t that what happens? Still, I needed a lynchpin for this story—I couldn’t just root for the corporate guys. I met Mark last year in class when he submitted a personal essay for the UC Review. Mark started doing sales at 19, working “six days a week for the first couple of months.” Then the perks rolled in, and he was soon shipped to England to help a client rejuvenate a flagging enterprise. “In the end I was working seven days a week, 15-hour days, and making more money than I knew what to do with.” If everything kept coming up aces, Mark would have kept grinding. “It was great until we started losing money…I lost everything I had made, my second year in. It felt like I had wasted two years of my life, every day, all day, to have nothing.” Mark’s response to corporate failure was typical, but horrible—pumping more and more hours into work. “My health was horrible, I was self-medicating with nine coffees every day, McDonald’s and Wendy’s for every meal, and whiskey at night. My morning routine was to wake up, be sick to my stomach, get dressed and go again. Most days I was so burnt out I didn’t even realize I had woken up until I was standing at the elevator in my condo, waiting for the door to open. I wouldn’t even remember getting up, let alone getting dressed.”

Mark’s lifestyle was killing him—he found himself physically sick. Eventually he pulled it together, and at 23, quit. However, he still doesn’t regret the initial decision. He told me that if it hadn’t been for the low, he wouldn’t have been able to put his life into perspective and figure out what actually mattered. Mark’s spent the last five years studying philosophy and travelling to Asia every other year. Last time we spoke, he said he was going to Thailand in a few weeks to apprentice at a tattoo parlour.

So, that’s why I’m having trouble with this story. Nothing seems to matter—I just can’t find a pivot point. Who cares if you grow up too soon? No one I spoke to was living with any regrets. They all managed to pull something out of their experiences— whether it was short-term loss for long-term gain or owning a Porsche. No one I saw was paralyzed by fears of graduation, they just saw what they wanted, and bit in.

Anyway—I have no idea what to do with all this.

Adnan