25 and sitting on $25 million
11/28/2013, 6 a.m.
When I was in college, I assumed I was going to graduate and receive $80,000-$90,000 a year. Yeah, I really thought that way. And that was going to be my starting salary, which wasn’t great, but you know, I’d deal.
For everyone who has graduated college, I’ll wait for you to finish laughing. For all the readers who are still in school, yeah, I’m sorry to break it to you: I don’t know what to tell you. This dream isn’t going to happen. You’ll be lucky to land an unpaid internship when you graduate.
I graduated college three years ago and moved to New York City to take my wonderfully demanding magazine internship at Maxim—which was unpaid. I cleaned out my savings for a $1,500 apartment that’s about the size of your bathroom and was ready to take on the world with my first pair of overly expensive Gucci slippers because, dammit, I worked at a magazine, and I was in New effin’ York.
I finished my internship program, which hired no one upon completion because why would you hire someone when you can get a fresh bunch of 20-somethings to do the work for free? I broke up with my girlfriend, and I moved back home to the Bronx.
I finally got a job, and then quit and got another job, and then quit and got another job, and now, here I am: 25 and employed by a company that pays me pretty well. That’s all well and good, but where the hell is my Lamborghini?!
Why don’t I drive an Aston Martin or Maybach? Why am I not sitting courtside every night, giving helpful pointers to LeBron James in Miami? Why are my pillows and sheets not Versace, and why have I not won a Grammy?!
Our generation has grown up thinking that we are young, we are talented and we deserve boats and women. The other day, my 18-year-old cousin was voicing his disdain for some 15-year-old DJ who is now some kind of critically acclaimed electronic/house music prodigy.
“He’s so young!” my brother said, disgruntled.
“You’re 18!” I said, incredulously.
“Yeah, and I’m not famous yet,” he snapped back.
It seems as though somehow, we have all seen the exception and now believe that this is the standard of living. Every time I go out with my friends, the boys in our group decide that we have to get a table. No matter the financial situation any of us are in, we are going to party at a table that costs a grand. We are going to drink Ciroc that is way too expensive and sit in a crowded room that is way too sweaty, and we are going to take Instagram pictures because this is how we live.
We have rented limos to drive us around for nights of club-hopping, planned weekend trips to Atlantic City to stay in presidential suites and bought VIP tickets to events that were completely unnecessary. Why? Because Big Sean does it. A$AP Rocky does it. Because Tyga hasn’t had a hit since “Rack City,” and even he does it. So why don’t we?