Wednesday, July 27, 2005

The Posing Class

As every good housesitter/nanny/tutor/personal assistant knows, social graces aren't what they used to be. These days it's not enough to know which fork to use or to chant "runny on the right, lumpy on the left" to oneself during a formal dinner. For 'preliminarily mobile' 20somethings, good manners is all about knowing one's place in the social hierarchy, or being comfortable with not exactly knowing one's place, but remaining nimble in the meanwhile.

Like many of my peers nearing the halfway mark to our 5 year college reunions, I've been more successful at collecting degrees than fat paychecks. This does not dissuade me, however, from planning ahead and preemptively trying on the lifestyle I aspire to. I drive a snotty European car and shop at the overpriced grocery store nearest my overpriced apartment.

This is all fine and good, but things start to get weird when I'm employed by those who've gone a generation or two ahead into yuppiedom (which, by the by, stands for Young Upwardly-mobile People) - the people who drive their late model snotty European cars to the overpriced grocery store nearest their overpriced homes, located just across the gated subdivision entry from my apartment. Most of the time, these people are gracious employers who give advice and have earnest appreciation for my efforts. Nonetheless, it's still a little weird to discuss world affairs or party-planning strategies like peers while keeping in mind who's working for $15 an hour and who's not. Oddly enough, I've sometimes felt that the more humbling end of this deal is that of the employer. There've been times when a tutoring gig has gone south and instead of throwing in the towel, I've remained on the payroll to do little more than watch parents lose arguments with their kids and get advice about neighborhood delis to check out. Sure, I'm admitting that $15 is enough to buy an hour of my time, but you're the one paying to chat it up with me rather than spending time with your family.

I've read The Great Gatsby. I know wealth and socialite fame don't guarantee happiness, and both can be disappointingly empty and hollow. All I'm saying is that it can be a very awkward task to negotiate building networks and contacts with doing odd jobs when you have more letters behind your name than zeroes in your net worth.

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