Is $100,000 middle class in America(əˈmerikə)?

By Heather Long

There’s a prolonged(-ˈläNGd,prəˈlôNGd) pause(pôz) when I ask Lyft driver Gaby Osegueda if her family is middle class. Her smile(smīl) fades(fād) as she thinks about it for a while.

“Yeah, I think so. I don’t even know what the middle class is anymore,” says Osegueda(ôsigādə), who with her husband(ˈhəzbənd) earns nearly $100,000 a year in the San Francisco area(ˈe(ə)rēə).

The majority(-ˈjär-,məˈjôrətē) of Americans — 62 percent(pərˈsent) — identify(īˈdentəˌfī) as “middle class,” according to a Gallup(galəp) poll conducted in June(jo͞on). It’s the highest percentage(pərˈsentij) of people feeling that way since 2003. But a lot of Americans(əˈmerikən) are like Osegueda: They feel middle class, but they aren’t sure what it means(mēnz).

Just who exactly(igˈzak(t)lē) is middle class is in the national(ˈnaSHənəl) spotlight(ˈspätˌlīt) again as President(ˈprez(ə)dənt,ˈprezəˌdent) Trump and Republicans(riˈpəblikən) in Congress(ˈkäNGgrəs,ˈkän-) craft(kraft) tax(taks) cuts(kət) for individuals(ˌindəˈvijəwəl) and corporations(ˌkôrpəˈrāSHən) that they say will primarily(prīˈme(ə)rəlē) benefit(ˈbenəfit) the middle. Vice(vīs,ˈvīsē,ˈvīsə) President Pence(pans) called the plan(plan), which is still being fleshed out, a “middle class miracle(ˈmirikəl)” this week. But amid(əˈmid) this discussion(disˈkəSHən), the middle class has been defined in different ways. Gary(ˈgarē,ˈge(ə)rē) Cohn, Trump’s top economic(ˌekəˈnämik,ˌēkə-) adviser(ədˈvīzər), recently discussed how a “typical family” making $100,000 a year would benefit. Trump has espoused(əˈspouz) the value of the plan to truckers(ˈtrəkər), who make around $41,000 a year.

There is no exact definition(ˌdefəˈniSHən) of middle class, and a deep look at the data shows a wide(wīd) variety(vəˈrīətē) of individuals could be part of it, depending on where they live(liv) and how big their family is. The middle class in San Francisco, where Osegueda lives, is not the same as it is in Peoria(pēˈôrēə), Ill(il).

https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/wonk/wp/2017/10/25/is-100000-middle-class-in-america/

Benjamin(ˈbenjəmən) Franklin

By Walter Isaacson(īsaksən)

CHAPTER ONE

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN AND THE INVENTION(inˈvenSHən) OF AMERICA

His arrival(əˈrīvəl) in Philadelphia(ˌfiləˈdelfēə) is one of the most famous scenes(sēn) in autobiographical(ˌôtəbīəˈgrafikəl) literature(-ˌCHo͝or,-ˌt(y)o͝or,ˈlit(ə)rəCHər): the bedraggled(biˈdragəld) 17-year-old runaway, cheeky(ˈCHēkē) yet(yet) with a pretense(priˈtens,ˈprēˌtens) of humility((h)yo͞oˈmilitē), straggling off the boat and buying three puffy(ˈpəfē) rolls as he wanders(ˈwändər) up Market Street. But wait a minute. There’s something more. Peel(pēl) back a layer and we can see him as a 65-year-old wry(rī) observer(əbˈzərvər), sitting in an English country house, writing this scene, pretending it’s part of a letter(ˈletər) to his son, an illegitimate(ˌi(l)ləˈjitəmit) son who has become a royal(ˈroiəl) governor(ˈgəvə(r)nər) with aristocratic(əˌristəˈkratik) pretensions(priˈtenCHən,prēˈtenCHən) and needs to be reminded(riˈmīnd) of his humble(ˈhəmbəl) roots.

A careful look at the manuscript(ˈmanyəˌskript) peels back yet another layer. Inserted into the sentence(ˈsentns) about his pilgrim’s(ˈpilgrəm) progress up Market Street is a phrase(frāz), written in the margin(ˈmärjən), in which he notes that he passed by the house of his future wife, Deborah(ˈdeb(ə)rə) Read, and that “she, standing at the door, saw me and thought(THôt) I made, as I certainly(ˈsərtnlē) did, a most awkward(ˈôkwərd) ridiculous(riˈdikyələs) appearance(əˈpi(ə)rəns).” So here we have, in a brief(brēf) paragraph(ˈparəˌgraf), the multilayered(ˈməltiˈlāərd,ˈməltī-) character(ˈkariktər) known so fondly to his author as Benjamin Franklin: as a young man, then seen through the eyes of his older self, and then through the memories later recounted by his wife. It’s all topped off with the old man’s deft(deft) little affirmation(ˌafərˈmāSHən)—“as I certainly did”—in which his self-deprecation(ˈdepriˌkāt) barely(ˈbe(ə)rlē) cloaks(klōk) the pride(prīd) he felt regarding(riˈgärdiNG) his remarkable(riˈmärkəbəl) rise(rīz) in the world.

Benjamin Franklin is the founding father(ˈfäT͟Hər) who winks(wiNGk) at us. George(jôrj) Washington’s colleagues(ˈkälˌēg) found it hard to imagine(iˈmajən) touching the austere(ôˈsti(ə)r) general on the shoulder, and we would find it even more so today. Jefferson and Adams(ˈīdəms) are just as intimidating(inˈtimiˌdāt). But Ben Franklin, that ambitious(amˈbiSHəs) urban(ˈərbən) entrepreneur(-ˈnər,ˌäntrəprəˈno͝or), seems made of flesh(fleSH) rather than of marble(ˈmärbəl), addressable(əˈdresəbəl) by nickname, and he turns to us from history’s stage with eyes that twinkle(ˈtwiNGkəl) from behind those newfangled(-ˌfaNG-,ˈn(y)o͞oˈfaNGgəld) spectacles(ˈspektəkəl). He speaks to us, through his letters(ˈletər) and hoaxes(hōks) and autobiography(ˌôtəbīˈägrəfē), not with orotund(ˈôrəˌtənd) rhetoric(ˈretərik) but with a chattiness and clever(ˈklevər) irony(ˈiərnē,ˈīrənē,ˈīərnē) that is very contemporary(kənˈtempəˌrerē), sometimes unnervingly(ˌənˈnərv) so. We see his reflection in our own time.

https://www.amazon.cn/Benjamin-Franklin-An-American-Life-Isaacson-Walter/dp/0684807610/

Developing Extraordinary(ikˈstrôrdnˌerē,ˌekstrəˈôrdn-) Resilience(riˈzilyəns)

By Leo Babauta

We’re all beset with difficulties, obstacles(ˈäbstəkəl), pain, tiredness, and a thousand other setbacks, small and large.

What determines whether we take these setbacks in stride(strīd), or let them bring us down, is something that psychologists(sīˈkäləjist) call “resilience.” It’s an ability(əˈbilitē) to come back from setbacks, adapt(əˈdapt), learn, but not be dragged down by these setbacks.

I’ve found resilience to be an important factor in my own journey(ˈjərnē), from struggling through finances(fəˈnans,ˈfīnans) and health changes over the years, to navigating(ˈnaviˌgāt) the scary (ˈske(ə)rē) and uncertain waters of running my own business.

Resilience has allowed me to:

Run several marathons(ˈmarəˌTHän) and an ultramarathon(ˈəltrə) (among other physical(ˈfizikəl) challenges(ˈCHalənj)) despite(diˈspīt) injuries and other training setbacks.

Write numerous(ˈn(y)o͞om(ə)rəs) books and courses(kôrs), even in the middle of personal challenges, fears, delays(diˈlā) due to procrastination(prō-,prəˌkrastəˈnāSHən), and more.

Face challenges such as debt(det) or declining(diˈklīn) income with a positive(ˈpäztiv,ˈpäzətiv) attitude(ˈatiˌt(y)o͞od), and deal with the challenges as they come.

Raise(rāz) six kids (with perhaps a little help from my wife) no matter what difficulties they face, or what personal baggage(ˈbagij) I’m bringing as a father.

Deal with deaths(deTH) in the family with an open heart, not only finding compassion(kəmˈpaSHən) for my own grief(grēf) but helping(ˈhelpiNG) my family members in the midst(midst,mitst) of theirs.

None of this is to brag(brag), but it’s to show the power of simple resilience. I’m not greater than any other human, but resilience has helped me deal with these difficulties, as I’m sure it has for many of you.

It’s such a powerful thing, resilience … but how do you develop it? Because make no mistake: it’s a set of skills, a set of capacities(kəˈpasitē), that can be developed over time. Some people might be born with greater tendencies(ˈtendənsē) toward resiliency, but we can all get better at it.

I’m going to offer a set of practices(ˈpraktəs) that you can work on, if you want to develop extraordinary resiliency. I hope you find them useful.

…
https://zenhabits.net/resilience/

Are Honey(ˈhənē) Nut(nət) Cheerios(ˌCHi(ə)rēˈō) Healthy(ˈhelTHē)? We Look Inside the Box(bäks)

By Danny Hakim(həˈkēm)

I had a bowl(bōl) of Honey Nut Cheerios recently. It’d been awhile. Regular(ˈreg(ə)lər,ˈregyələr) Cheerios are more my thing. But sometimes I finish my box faster than my kids do and find myself straying(strā) to their side of the cupboard(ˈkəbərd).

Honey Nut is America’s best-selling breakfast(ˈbrekfəst) cereal(ˈsi(ə)rēəl), and by a comfortable(ˈkəmftərbəl,ˈkəmfərtəbəl) margin(ˈmärjən). Roughly(ˈrəflē) 151 million boxes and other containers of various(ˈve(ə)rēəs) sizes were sold over the past year, well ahead of the second best-selling breakfast cereal, Frosted(ˈfrôstid) Flakes(flāk), according to IRI, a Chicago(-ˈkägō,SHiˈkôgō) based market research firm(fərm).

I had no idea. The only thing I could think about when I ate it again for the first time in years was how incredibly(inˈkredəblē) sweet(swēt) it is. I looked at the back of the box and could see why. Three of the top six ingredients(iNG-,inˈgrēdēənt) are sweeteners(ˈswētn-ər,ˈswētnər): sugar(ˈSHo͝ogər), brown(broun) sugar and honey.

Previously(ˈprēvēəslē), I assumed(əˈso͞om) Honey Nut Cheerios was a slightly(ˈslītlē) sweeter Cheerios, but you learn things when you finally get around to reading the back of the box. It actually(ˈakCHo͞oəlē) has about nine times as much sugar as plain Cheerios, per serving. An Environmental(-ˌvī(ə)rn-,enˌvīrənˈmen(t)l) Working Group analysis(əˈnaləsis) of a number of popular cereals — a report that linked sugary(ˈSHo͝ogərē) cereals to the “nation’s(ˈnāSHən) childhood(ˈCHīldˌho͝od) obesity(ōˈbēsitē) epidemic(ˌepiˈdemik)” — put Honey Nut Cheerios’s sugar content second only to Fruity(ˈfro͞otē) Pebbles(ˈpebəl). The same group found that one cup of the cereal had more sugar than three Chips(CHip) Ahoy(əˈhoi)! cookies.

I asked General Mills about this, over a period(ˈpi(ə)rēəd) of several days. They did not come to the phone, but responded with a series(ˈsi(ə)rēz) of communiqués.

“You mentioned that three of the top six ingredients in Honey Nut Cheerios are sugar, brown sugar and honey,” Mike Siemienas, a spokesman(ˈspōksmən) for the company, wrote in a statement. “What you didn’t mention is that the number one ingredient is oats(ōt). To be so singularly(singularly) focused on one ingredient — sugar — is irresponsible(ˌiriˈspänsəbəl) and doesn’t help consumers look at the total nutrition(n(y)o͞oˈtriSHən) offered.”

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/11/10/business/honey-nut-cheerios-sugar.html

Fish don’t know they’re in water

By Derek Sivers

Fish don’t know they’re in water.

If you tried to explain(ikˈsplān) it, they’d say, “Water? What’s water?”

They’re so surrounded by it, that it’s impossible to see.

They can’t see it until they get outside of it.

This is how I feel about culture(ˈkəlCHər).

We’re so surrounded by people who think like us, that it’s impossible to see that what we think are universal(ˌyo͞onəˈvərsəl) truths(tro͞oTH) are just our local culture.

We can’t see it until we get outside of it.

I was born(bôrn) in California(-nēə,ˌkaləˈfôrnyə) and grew up with what I felt(felt) was a normal upbringing(ˈəpˌbriNGiNG) with normal values.

I was speaking to a business school class here in Singapore(ˈsiNGəˌpôr). I asked, “How many people would like to start their own company some day?” In a room of 50 people, only one hand (reluctantly(riˈləktənt)) went up.

If I would have asked this question to a room of 50 business school students in California, 51 hands would have gone up. (Someone would have run in from the hallway just to raise(rāz) their hand.)

Thinking maybe they were just shy, I asked, “Really!? Why not?” - and asked individuals(ˌindəˈvijəwəl). Their answers:

“Why take the risk(risk)? I just want security(siˈkyo͝oritē).”

“I spent all this money on school, and need to make it back.”

“If I fail, it would be a huge((h)yo͞oj) embarrassment(emˈbarəs) to my family.”

Then I realized my local American culture. The land of entrepreneurs(-ˈnər,ˌäntrəprəˈno͝or) and over-confidence(-fəˌdens,ˈkänfədəns). I had heard this before, but I hadn’t really felt it until I could see it from a distance.

All of my Singaporean friends live with their parents(ˈpar-,ˈpe(ə)rənt). Even pretty successful ones, even married ones, even up to age 35, live with their parents at their parents’ home.

When I told one that I left home at 17, she was horrified(ˈhär-,ˈhôrəˌfī). She said, “Isn’t that horribly insulting(inˈsəltiNG) to your parents? Weren’t they devastated(ˈdevəˌstāt)?”

Then I realized my local American culture again. The emphasis(ˈemfəsis) on individualism(ˌindəˈvijo͞oəˌlizəm), rebellion(riˈbelyən), following your dreams. I had heard this before, but I hadn’t really felt it until I could see it from a distance.

My culture isn’t in the center. It’s off on the edge(ej), like one petal(ˈpetl) in a flower(ˈflou(-ə)r), like they all are. Not right or wrong - just one of many options.

Yes, the rest of the world can enjoy a good laugh at the stereotypical(ˈsterē-ō,ˈsti(ə)r- ˈtipikəl) American - just now realizing he’s not the center of the universe.

I’m just a fish who didn’t know he was in water.

https://sivers.org/fish

How to Get From a 7 to a 10?

By Steve Pavlina

A frequent(ˈfrēkwənt) question I ask when trying to improve some area of my life is: If I were to rate(rāt) this area’s current performance on a scale(skāl) of 1-10, with 1 being the worst imaginable(iˈmaj(ə)nəbəl) and 10 being the best imaginable, where am I right now?

Very often I find that areas get stuck somewhere in the 6-8 range, usually(ˈyo͞oZHo͞oəlē) at a 7. A 7 seems very close to a 9 or 10, but often a 7 is a local maximum(ˈmaksəməm) — you can’t get any higher by continuing to follow the same path that got you to that 7 in the first place(plās). You’re already at a peak. The only way to reach a true 9 or 10 is to climb(klīm) back down (sometimes back to a 2 or 3) and take a new path.

How many times do people get stuck at a 7 and remain(riˈmān) there for years? Is your job a 7? Your health? Your relationship? Your family life? Your self-esteem(iˈstēm)? Is it likely to improve much if you keep heading down the same path you’ve been on for the past year?

A 7 is pretty(ˈpritē) good. At this level you feel generally content. It’s OK, fine, acceptable(akˈseptəbəl), satisfactory(ˌsatisˈfakt(ə)rē).

A 7 is above average(ˈav(ə)rij). Compared to most people, you’d say your 7 isn’t bad at all. You feel like you’re ahead of the pack.

People often get to a 7 and then coast for a long time. At a 2 or 3, you know something is very wrong, and you’re probably driven to action. But a 7 is like a warm bath(baTH). It’s cozy(ˈkōzē) and non-threatening(ˈTHretn-iNG). You feel fairly(ˈfe(ə)rlē) safe at a 7.

So why are you stuck there? Are you waiting for everyone else to catch(kaCH,keCH) up?

Getting past a 7 is hard. It can take more effort to get past a 7 than it takes to reach a 7 in the first place. Some people would complain(kəmˈplān) that it takes too long to get past a 7. But the truth is that the time is going to pass anyway. Even if it takes 5-10 years, you might as well get yourself to a higher level within that time, since the years are going to pass anyway.

Whenever I feel I’ve gotten stuck at a 7, I stop and ask myself: What would a 10 look like?

…
https://www.stevepavlina.com/blog/2005/07/how-to-get-from-a-7-to-a-10/

Dune(d(y)o͞on)

By Frank(fraNGk) Herbert

In the week before their departure(diˈpärCHər) to Arrakis(ə ä), when all the final scurrying(ˈskərē) about had reached a nearly unbearable(ˌənˈbe(ə)rəbəl) frenzy(ˈfrenzē), an old crone(krōn) came to visit the mother of the boy, Paul.

It was a warm night at Castle(ˈkasəl) Caladan(kəlādān), and the ancient(ˈānCHənt) pile(pīl) of stone that had served the Atreides(ətredās) family as home for twenty-six generations bore(bôr) that cooled-sweat(swet) feeling it acquired(əˈkwī(ə)r) before a change in the weather.

The old woman was let in by the side door down the vaulted(vôlt) passage(ˈpasij) by Paul’s room and she was allowed a moment to peer(pi(ə)r) in at him where he lay in his bed.

By the half-light of a suspensor lamp(lamp), dimmed(dim) and hanging(ˈhaNGiNG) near the floor, the awakened(əˈwākən) boy could see a bulky(ˈbəlkē) female(ˈfēˌmāl) shape(SHāp) at his door, standing one step ahead of his mother. The old woman was a witch(wiCH) shadow(ˈSHadō)—hair like matted(ˈmatid) spiderwebs(ˈspīdərweb), hooded(ˈho͝odid) ’round darkness of features(ˈfēCHər), eyes like glittering(ˈglitəriNG) jewels(ˈjo͞oəl).

“Is he not small for his age, Jessica?” the old woman asked. Her voice wheezed((h)wēz) and twanged(twaNG) like an untuned(ˌənˈt(y)o͞ond) baliset.

Paul’s mother answered in her soft contralto(kənˈtraltō): “The Atreides are known to start late getting their growth, Your Reverence(ˈrev(ə)rəns).”

“So I’ve heard, so I’ve heard,” wheezed the old woman. “Yet he’s already fifteen.”

“Yes, Your Reverence.”

“He’s awake and listening to us,” said the old woman. “Sly(slī) little rascal(ˈraskəl).” She chuckled(ˈCHəkəl). “But royalty(ˈroiəltē) has need of slyness. And if he’s really the Kwisatz Haderach…well….”

Within(wiT͟Hˈin,wiˈTH-) the shadows of his bed, Paul held his eyes open to mere(mi(ə)r) slits(slit). Two bird-bright(brīt) ovals(ˈōvəl)—the eyes of the old woman—seemed to expand and glow as they stared into his.

“Sleep well, you sly little rascal,” said the old woman. “Tomorrow you’ll need all your faculties(ˈfakəltē) to meet my gom jabbar(jəbär).”

And she was gone, pushing his mother out, closing the door with a solid(ˈsälid) thump(THəmp).

Paul lay awake wondering: What’s a gom jabbar?

https://www.amazon.cn/Dune-Herbert-Frank/dp/B00B7NPRY8/

It’s the Grim(grim) Reality(rēˈalətē) of Frequent(ˈfrēkwənt) Work Travel(ˈtravəl): Health Problems

By Tammy La Gorce

Their lives may be portrayed(pôrˈtrā) as glamorous(ˈglamərəs). In fact, they’re often the opposite(ˈäpəzit). Pity(ˈpitē) frequent business travelers.

Doctors at organizations including the Centers for Disease(diˈzēz) Control and Prevention(priˈvenCHən) and the International Society(səˈsīətē) of Travel Medicine(ˈmedisən) say they are hearing of a range of health problems in frequent travelers, from insomnia(inˈsämnēə) and weight(wāt) gain(gān) to viruses(ˈvīrəs). And they said they see a need for more comprehensive(ˌkämpriˈhensiv) research into the health compromises(ˈkämprəˌmīz) made by business travelers, both short(SHôrt) haul(hôl) and long haul.

“The whole noncommunicable(kəˈmyo͞onikəbəl) disease side of travel health is something that’s been under-researched,” said Dr. Martin Cetron, director of the division(diˈviZHən) of global migration(mīˈgrāSHən) and quarantine(ˈkwôrənˌtēn) at the C.D.C.

Lin Chen, the incoming president(ˈprez(ə)dənt,ˈprezəˌdent) of the International Society of Travel Medicine and an associate(əˈsoʊsiˌeɪt) professor(prəˈfesər) of medicine at Harvard Medical School, said that jet(jet) lag(lag), combined with a lack(lak) of access to exercise(ˈeksərˌsīz) and fresh(freSH) food while on the road and sporadic(spəˈradik) engagement(enˈgājmənt) at home, needs rigorous(ˈrigərəs) study. “Right now, it’s hard to know the impact because not enough research has been done,” she said. “But certainly(ˈsərtnlē) it’s significant(sigˈnifikənt).”

Dr. Cetron said the image of the jet-setter who flies around making million-dollar deals no longer reflects the experience of most business travelers. “The reality is that the full spectrum(ˈspektrəm) of the work force now travels. Not just C.E.O.s but the more modest(ˈmädəst) businessperson — think of junior(ˈjo͞onyər) employees(emˈploi-ē,ˌemploiˈē) at multinational(ˌməltiˈnaSHənl,ˌməltī-) companies, or aid(ād) workers who are called to respond to international crises(ˈkrīsis). Some of these people have to travel on really shoestring(ˈSHo͞oˌstriNG) budgets(ˈbəjit).” For them, flying business class or staying in fancy(ˈfansē) hotels is not an option.

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/11/27/business/business-travel-health-problems.html

How to Form the Decisiveness(diˈsīsivnəs) Habit

By Leo Babauta

I’ve had several people ask me lately(ˈlātlē) about what they can do about indecisiveness, and it made me realize that this is actually something I’m pretty(ˈpritē) good at: being decisive.

Making decisions(diˈsiZHən) can be difficult, especially(iˈspeSHəlē) when there’s no clear choice(CHois). But being indecisive, when you’re at the cusp(kəsp) of one of these tough(təf) decisions, can come at high costs(kôst):

Not taking action can cost you an opportunity(ˌäpərˈt(y)o͞onitē), or cost money and time as you delay(diˈlā).

People waiting on you to make a decision can get frustrated(ˈfrəsˌtrātid).

You can feel stress(stres) about your indecisiveness, and stress about how you’re making people wait.

People who are plagued(plāg) with indecisiveness generally know they don’t want to be that way, so I won’t belabor(biˈlābər) the point. It’s not fun, and I feel compassion(kəmˈpaSHən) for those who have this difficulty(ˈdifikəltē).

So how can we form the habit of being decisive instead?

It’s about recognizing(ˈrekigˌnīz,ˈrekə(g)ˌnīz) what’s going on when you’re stuck with a decision, as it’s happening. And then deciding to go with a new set of habits around your decision-making.

…

We can’t get rid(rid) of the uncertainty(ˌənˈsərtntē) around making a decision. We can do everything we can to research, delay, come up with a decision-making system … and we’ll still be unsure of what choice we should make. We’ll still feel anxious(ˈaNG(k)SHəs) about it.

So we might just learn to be OK with that uncertainty, and get into the habit of making decisive decisions.

Yes, there will likely be a cost to whatever choice we make. That’s true if we make no choice as well — that’s a choice, and it has costs. Over the long run, the cost of indecision(ˌindiˈsiZHən) is usually worse than the cost of making a wrong choice, because we stress out about the indecision for a long time. The stress doesn’t make the choice easier, it doesn’t make us happy, it affects(əˈfekt,ˈafekt) our health, it affects our relationships.

Instead(inˈsted), let’s just make a decision, and move on. Let go of the stress about whether it’s the right choice (there’s no such thing) and instead deal with whatever consequences(-ˌkwens,ˈkänsikwəns) we face. And learn to trust that we’ll be OK.

…
https://zenhabits.net/decisive/

Adulthood(əˈdəlt,ˈadˌəlt)

ADULTHOOD

INT: AN ICE CREAM(krēm) PARLOR(ˈpärlər)

Robin, a teenager(ˈtēnˌājər), has just started working as an ice cream scooper.

ROBIN

Is this real life? Is this what people do all day long, day after day? I’ve now wasted(ˈwāstid) two and a half hours of my life scooping ice cream onto cones(kōn) for whining((h)wīn) children with runny(ˈrənē) noses(nōz). I’m going to go insane(inˈsān). And my arm and shoulder(ˈSHōldər) really(ˈrē(ə)lē) hurt(hərt). I never realized(ˈrē(ə)ˌlīz) that using a spoon(spo͞on) could be classified(ˈklasəˌfīd) as exercise. Man, I’m going to have to do stretches before I come back here tomorrow.

Oh god, I’m going to have to come back here tomorrow. Again. Tomorrow and the day after that and every day for the rest of the summer. How does anyone have a job for longer than a week? I feel like I’ve been watching people going to their jobs my whole life and I just assumed it would be better than this. Why have I been spending seven hours a day in school learning vocab(vi-,vōˈkabyəˌlerē) and science(ˈsīəns) and calculus(ˈkalkyələs)? I don’t even use algebra(ˈaljəbrə) here, I just type buttons into the cash(kaSH) register(ˈrejəstər).

Oh, great, here come four more kids. I’ll ask them the same exact(igˈzakt) questions(ˈkwesCHən). “One scoop or two?” “Regular(ˈreg(ə)lər,ˈregyələr) cone(kōn), sugar(ˈSHo͝ogər) cone, or waffle(ˈwäfəl,ˈwô-) cone?” “Do you want a sample(ˈsampəl)?” This can’t be right. People weren’t meant to live like this. There’s supposed(səˈpōzd,səˈpōzid) to be more to it than repetition(ˌrepəˈtiSHən).

This must be a nightmare(ˈnītˌme(ə)r). No, this must be hell(hel). Oh god, no-it’s adulthood.

https://www.instantmonologues.com/preview/Adulthood