THIS summer, thousands of newly-graduated Celtic Tiger Cubs will enter the workplace, fresh from four years of college and eager to get a piece of the financial pie. You couldn't pick a better time to come of age in Ireland, right? Wrong. Though they no longer have to join dole queues or take the mail boat to Liverpool for the promise of a job, the youngsters of Ireland are finding it hard to join working society. They can't deal with the early morning starts. They don't know why they are stuck answering phones when they should be earning Pulitzer prizes. They don't understand why a BA in English doesn't immediately guarantee them a job hosting The Late Late Show.
The Americans, of course, coined a term for this sense of loss and disappointment long ago. It has come to be known as the Quarter-Life Crisis, and is characterised by feelings of frustration, confusion, depression, nostalgia for college life and an overwhelming feeling that everyone is doing better than you. Nothing new, then. Many students give up on 'real life' altogether, scampering back to the cosy environs of further education to study for yet another Master's degree. Others regress even further, and the last fortnight saw hundreds of mature students swapping office politics for history and geography when they re-sat the Leaving Certificate. Many are in their 20s, willing to pay hundreds of euro for sitting the exams that give them the chance to start over.
For a close encounter with the quarter-life crisis, all you have to do is switch on any episode of I'm An Adult, Get Me Out Of Here. Those twenty- and thirtysomethings who have swapped independence for the safety of the family home could well do with some counselling. Curiously, it seems like the success which the last generation worked so hard for is the very thing causing the Celtic Tiger Cubs distress.
Too much choice. Should I stay and work for a few years, or just head to Australia now? And of course, a successful economy relies on competition.
Maybe the Cubs are traumatised when they enter a work place that's all about getting ahead, earning more, buying (sorry, I mean renting) a bigger house: it's very different from those blissful college days when the only competition you had to worry about was getting served at the bar.
There's always someone to capitalise on these kinds of things, and in the past few years, hundreds of life-coaching centres have sprung up throughout the country, each promising to deliver inner peace and serenity to disaffected 20-year-olds . . . at a price, of course. "Do you want it all and want it now but still aren't sure what 'it' is?" goes one website catering to those going through the crisis.
It seems we can cure the Celtic Tiger Cubs with just a few short sessions at a very reasonable rate.
This wouldn't have been the case years ago. People would have been told to cop themselves on and get on with it, not spend money on that most ethereal thing, life-coaching. I have no doubt that it does help people; I'm just not sure whether they really need it.
But maybe it really isn't all the Cubs' fault.
Graduates enter the work place bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, thinking that now is the time for all the hard work to start paying off. We're taught that if we study hard, get a good Leaving and a college education, the world is our oyster. We can go anywhere, do anything, and get paid a king's ransom for it all.
Maybe we need to start telling them the truth.
Life isn't beautiful. Nothing comes for free. We all have to work hard. Unless you're a life-coach, of course.
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