The Plight of Print’s Lucky Ones
“Basically,” he goes—and Q was being totally serious when he said this—”I’m 31 and at a professional dead end. And so are most people in here.”
“I’ll be 35. What the hell am I gonna do with the rest of my life?”
And, the root of it all, entitlement:
When I graduated from college several years ago, the boilerplate career arc in publishing went a little something like this: pay your dues as an editorial assistant for a couple years, biding your time until you either 1) got promoted and became an associate, or 2) jumped ship to a magazine (or newspaper, or book editing shop) where a better gig opened up. Hang in that new station for a couple years before rinsing and repeating, upwards and onwards. It was an arc that, if you played your cards right, culminated with a six-figure job you’d stick with for the rest of your professional career.
An article filled with self-pitying spoiled brats.
You deserve to lose it all.
Welcome to real life.