Magic Beans and the Millennial Grab Bag

As a kid I had trouble with Jack and the Beanstalk. Evidently, folks thought Jack was ripped off. “A cow for magic beans?” his mother cried. Perhaps I underestimated the value of a fine head of cattle, but I was fairly certain Jack had made a totally sensible investment.

Even in my youth, I would have been the perfect foil for a pyramid scheme. I collected my mother’s scrapped Publisher’s Clearing House alerts and while some kids waited for Santa, I kept watch for Ed McMahon. We were going to be rich.

Now, there’s something to be said for adages. There are certainly people who see their cups as half-full and others, dismally half-empty—and evaporating. I fear my weakness has been hoisting my figurative cup to the sky and rushing between cloudbursts to grab a little more.

At heart, I’m a schemer. Every job I’ve ever landed has been the perfect job. My latest plot having come to fruition, I bask in the possibilities ahead. There will be meaningful work, enough to live on. I’ve found the thing that will give my life meaning, I say.

Inevitably, though, there’s a giant lurking upstairs. Someone will ask me to write a memo (spelled BORING), call me during off-hours or betray my idealistic hopes in some other predictable way. I nod off at night with the glow of internet jobs search engines flickering over my glasses. To sleep… per chance to dream of great pay, free time and rewarding work.

I attended a conference for young nonprofit professionals a couple of months ago. The place was crawling with Millennials and our “inter-generational” break-out session largely became a moment for insular self-reflection. What else might you expect from a generation of people whose parents raised them rarely hearing the word no, getting a trophy for just trying, and weaning them from mother’s milk to immediately get hooked on the benefits of high self-esteem.

Together we moaned that our supervisors didn’t compliment our work enough and didn’t promote us fast enough. We noted, with a little shyness, that those words of encouragement were what helped many of us find value in our jobs and that without fast movement upward through an organization, we were prone to bolt. Someone suggested that the reason young professionals are sometimes treated as expendable is that we so frequently expend ourselves, rushing out the door after a year or so to chase the next opportunity. I began to wonder if I belong to a whole generation of dreamy schemers.

In some ways, I’ve started to consider Jack of lore a mascot of sorts for twenty-something’s like me. If nothing else, he had great self-esteem. He was given one task (go to market, Jack), lost his cow and came home sunny as ever to his starving mother—Look what I got! His plant grew and an anti-social giant with a serious personality disorder and tendencies toward cannibalism lived upstairs. Fine, that’s great, did you notice the goose? Jack’s the sort of guy you’d never bring along to Vegas because he’ll blow it all on the most unlikely gamble.

But Jack won. His magic beans worked. He traveled to a castle in the clouds and defeated the villain. He stole a goose and won a steady stream of golden eggs (let’s forgive thievery when your score comes from a fearsome giant). If you’ll remember, that wasn’t enough for Jack, and he went up the beanstalk again and this time lifted the giant’s golden harp.

Jack and his five finger discount. Jack and his desperate final moments trailed by a raging giant. Jack hacking down the beanstalk and, despite all expectation to the contrary, surviving. His naivety isn’t punished, nor is his greed. He was entirely impractical and kept going back for more and ended up rich and married to a princess.

As a generation, we are hopeful people. We grew up being taught about environmental catastrophe and global poverty and were instilled with the expansive confidence to believe we could fix these problems. Coached to think, I’m special. I’m talented. I’m gifted, Millennials were reared with a sense of exceptionalism. Thinking back to Jack at the beginning of the story, penniless and hungry, I can’t help but see other parallels—young adult joblessness at record highs, a Great Recession that will define us well into the future, climate change, war and that same global poverty. What’s remarkable is that so many of us can still believe that good fortune lies ahead. We all want our magic beans, and still expect them despite all indications to the contrary.

My final, fairy tale wish, is that the giants pacing overhead don’t crush this generation and that our optimistic natures survive.