Generation X

Generation X came of age between 1991 and 1999. We’re the inbetweeners: book-ended by the baby boomers and the millennials. We're the last generation to hoard albums on vinyl, make mix tapes, read newspapers . . . the last generation to express any sort of resistance to corporate servitude. Xers are self-conscious, detached, sceptical, and questioning. Be it culture or chemistry, we’ve got a lot rattling around in our heads, sometimes maybe too much.

Over-educated

Most of us pepper our daily life with obscure references (obscure films, dead TV stars, high-brow literature, niche indie music, etc.) as a subliminal means of showcasing our education, connecting with kindred spirits, and disassociating from the world of mass culture. This shorthand is baffling to strangers, and too much like hard work for the Millennials.

“Her hair was totally 1950s Indiana Woolworth perfume clerk. But the dress was early ‘60s Aeroflot stewardess- you know- that really sad blue the Russians used before they all started wanting to buy Sonys and having Guy Laroche design their Politburo caps. And such make-up! Perfect ’70s Mary Quant, with these little PVC floral appliqué earrings that looked like antiskid bathtub stickers from a gay Hollywood tub circa 1956. She really caught the sadness- she was the hippest person there. Totally.”

- Douglas Coupland, Generation X (1993)

Under-employed

“McJob: A low-pay, low-prestige, low-dignity, low benefit, no-future job in the service sector.”

- Douglas Coupland, Generation X (1993)

Nadja repped for Rentokil, I worked as a photography assistant and waited tables at night, Hay-sus worked in a dive bar. Amid these God awful jobs, we dreamed of the of that first rung of the corporate ladder: the veal-fattening pen- those small, cramped office workstations built of grey wall partitions- named after the small pre-slaughter cubicles used by the cattle industry.

Mid-Twenties Breakdown

This mind-numbing drudgery brought on my mid-twenties breakdown. I sunk into a period of mental collapse, probably caused by my inability to function outside of school or structured environments, coupled with a realization of my essential aloneness in the world. I just wanted to curl up in the garage with a bag of dog biscuits. Instead, I turned to drugs, cigarettes, and alcohol.

Live Fast, Die Young, Win Fabulous Prizes

“Is it worth the aggravation

To find yourself a job when there's nothing worth working for?

It's a crazy situation

But all I need are cigarettes and alcohol!“

- Oasis, Cigarettes & Alcohol (1994)

For five years after grad we partied hard, drank a fuckload of booze, and did enough drugs to fell a concrete elephant. Getting off your face several school nights in a row was fine; our dead-end jobs were so un-taxing, so dull that we could come home at five am, sleep til six, then shuffle to work and sit there numb and embalmed til home time. What cash we did earn were just fun vouchers for more good times.

It’s Better to Burn Out Than to Fade Away

In January 11, 1992, Nirvana's Nevermind album reached number one. Two years later Kurt Cobain shot himself. He wrote the Neil Young lyrics “It’s better to burn out, than to fade away” in his suicide note. Hearing the news, the world felt shittier, like we’d all lost something that day. A big piece of our innocence fell away, like a crumbling ice shelf plunging into the sea.

The Rise of the Millennials

“I'm losing my edge. The kids are coming up from behind.”

- LCD Soundsystem, Losing my Edge (2005)

Britney killed our generation. Everything changed with her arrival in 1999: The Xers' groovy, indie music-and-second-hand-store-style heyday was out; consumer hell was in.

The millennials, spawned during the last days of disco, speak with none of the doubt and scepticism that have marked - and - hampered Generation X. They just LOVE stuff. They love celebrities. They love technology. They love name brands. They love everything. They're happy to do whatever advertising tells them to do. So what if they can't manage to read anything longer than an instant message? If anything, it's an advantage. Because literacy leads to self-reflection and critical thinking, and self-reflection and critical thinking open the door to doubt and scepticism and stuff like that just gets in the way when you're trying to get ahead.

In a Cold World, You Need Your Friends to Keep You Warm

The clung-to myth that there will always be a financial and emotional safety net to buffer life's hurts, usually in the form of our parents- doesn’t apply for most of us anymore. Friends are the new family now. The most precious thing we can give each other is love, kindness and understanding- mirrors for each other to show us how and where we're at.

“Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.”

- Kurt Vonnegut (1997)

McJob

“McJob: A low-pay, low-prestige, low-dignity, low benefit, no-future job in the service sector.”

- Douglas Coupland, Generation X (1993)

As the last days of varsity approached, and the real world juggernauted into view, I was terrified. I felt the trepidation of a young virgin bride, cowering behind the sheets, dreading being roughly rogered for the first time.

Shotguns and Milk Stout

My first post-Rhodes job was as a cowhand in the remote hills of Zululand. I was given a shotgun, a 4x4, and told to ferry cows from farm to farm. The mountainous roads were notional at best, and after a particularly heavy Natal rainstorm, just getting to work through the mud was a sliding, churning, get-out-and-dig affair. It was a glorious job, but the danger, my lack of Zulu, and aversion to milk stout ended it all too soon.

Smirnoff Tongue

Job two was as a photographer’s assistant in a studio in downtown Cape Town. The hours were long, work exhausting and I worked for free. Such is the norm when you’re breaking into a photography career. A low point was spending hours setting up a Smirnoff vodka shoot, and getting the lighting on the bottle just so, that we daren’t move it a hair. The vodka looked misty in the studio light, so we had to get it out, without upsetting our meticulous display. Short story: I had to drill a hole in the bottle top, suck out the vodka with a straw, mouthful by mouthful, and spit it into a bucket. Not the nicest thing when you’re already labouring under a Guiness hang over. I threw up four times, my tongue went white, and I couldn’t taste anything for days. We did get the shot though.

Would You Like Fries with That, Motherfucker?

To pay for beer, Styvies and rent, I got job three at a pizzeria in Cape Town, after the day’s work at the studio. Being forced to be obsequious to pita bread munching proles knocked the stuffing out of any “but I’ve got a degree” arrogance. The only job satisfaction was using a stashed magnet to blank the credit cards of unsuspecting customers who didn’t leave a tip on their bill. 

These Days

I slowly discovered that finding a job I liked was a process of trying things I’d quickly realise I didn’t want to do, and slowly gravitating to what I did. I generally like my work now, it lets me be creative, and the good projects do get me out of bed early sometimes.