"Some Cynical Guy" No. 70: April 21, 2002

The Post-Yuppie Handbook

The last quarter of the twentieth century just happened to coincide with the golden age of yuppiedom. To be young, smart, urban and professional in that lost era was to enjoy the same exalted status as a gladiator in ancient Rome, a knight in medieval France or a gangster in 1920s Chicago. You amassed scandalous amounts of money, dined at the most rarefied restaurants, outfitted yourself with the most culturally desirable garments, gadgets and dogs. You ordered regularly from Sharper Image and J. Peterman; you were the pinnacle, the Rolex of creation. But all that is history now, blown away by events that not even a Palm handheld organizer could control. When you observe that firemen are now accorded more respect than investment bankers, you know the jig is up. So how do you adjust to the rude realities of the post-dotcom, post-Seinfeld, post-9/11 era? How do you make the transition from self-pampering yupster to regular human being, especially now that the latter is actually more prestigious? The road will undoubtedly be a bumpy one. But you can start by following these helpful pointers for the recovering yuppie:

Buy an American car, preferably a Chevy.

Have dinner at a local diner and order the meat loaf.

Don’t carry a pager unless you’re an M.D. or a drug dealer.

When you go to a bookstore, spend more time checking out the books than sipping latte.

Don’t choose a place to live based primarily on the reputation of its school district.

Don’t even consider a neighborhood that has a guarded gate at the entrance.

Buy a house with a porch, and talk to your neighbors as they pass by.

At work, have lunch with co-workers who aren’t on the leadership team.

Try to leave the office before most folks are having dessert.

On business flights, choose a window seat, put away your laptop and enjoy the scenery; always look for the Mississippi River if you’re crossing it.

Reduce the influence of mousse in your life, both as a dessert and a hair additive.

Get to know your local shopkeepers by name, and shoot the breeze with them.

Buy an inexpensive watch that keeps good time.

If you don’t enjoy playing golf with your colleagues, don’t play golf with them.

Don’t choose your friends because they look good.

Don’t choose your friends because they have prestigious jobs.

Don’t confuse contacts with friends; a friend likes you even if you’re not useful.

Make friends with people older, younger, richer and poorer than you.

Dare to name your kid Dolores or Grover.

When you’re on the road, consider spending the night at a rustic wood-paneled motel instead of a bland national chain.

Spend an afternoon flying a kite at the nearest park.

During the winter, go sledding before you go skiing.

Shun white pizza, white chocolate and white country clubs.

Dare to look your age; growing old isn’t as downscale as you think.

In matters of gadgetry, favor the hand-mower over the handheld organizer.

Choose a $40 paper organizer over the $400 electronic one; it’s not only friendlier but more efficient.

Lose the cell phone for a week. Rediscover phone booths.

Realize that balsamic vinegar and sun-dried tomatoes, however pleasant, are not indispensable food groups.

Spend an hour at a mom-and-pop hardware store, preferably an ancient one with wood-plank floors.

Don’t push your kid into pre-school at the age of three. We spend much too hefty a chunk of our lives at school as it is, and then there's work.

If your local public school isn’t a den of crime, let your kid go there.

Don’t talk your kid into choosing a college because you’d like to display its decal in your car window.

If you spend a week at the shore, try a ramshackle Victorian hotel instead of a deluxe condo.

Resist the temptation to check your voice mail or e-mail while you’re away; vacation time is your time.

Dare to buy wrinkle-free polyester-blend garments at JC Penney.

Realize that you can stay fit without knowing all your muscles by name.

As much as possible, stay away from designer clothes, designer eyeglasses and designer dogs.

If you want a dog, try a breed you liked when you were a kid.

For that matter, try a career you would have liked when you were a kid.

Write occasional letters that require actual stationery and postage stamps.

Eliminate the following words and phrases from your vocabulary: leverage, prioritize, productivity, team-building, value-added, good career move.

Replace the above words and phrases with ‘Oh boy!’

If a headhunter or interviewer knocks you for staying too long at your current job, maybe you should stay a little longer.

Keep in mind that you (and everyone else) are more than what you do for a living.

Don’t buy a book because it’s on the bestseller list; buy it because it excites you.

Don’t read lawyer novels unless you’re a lawyer.

Read a work of pre-twentieth-century literature by someone other than Jane Austen.

Realize that you don’t need separate shoes for running, walking, golf and web-surfing.

It’s fine to try raspberry-flavored beer, but don’t make a habit of it.

Don’t worry about turning into your parents unless they were criminals.

Keep a few childhood friends for life; they’ll remind you who you are even if you forget.

Cynic's Pick of the Week

So Colin Powell returned from the Holy Land with no solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and pundits are loudly proclaiming his mission a failure. That's like criticizing him for not being able to halt the hostilities between cats and dogs. I doubt if God himself could find a workable solution to this crisis.

©2002 by Bridget Petrella Media Relations. "Some Cynical Guy" appears here by permission of the publisher. If you'd like this column to appear regularly in  your own site or publication, write to UPBEATmag@aol.com.

Profile of a Cynic...

Bayan, who claims to be a "kinder, gentler cynic," lives with his wife in a 100-year-old former livery stable in Philadelphia. His weekly column, "Some Cynical Guy," is published and syndicated by Upbeat Online.