Kids
When older people make sweeping generalisations about “Gen-Ys with their Twitters and their Facebooks”, I usually think they’re…well, generalising. I was born in the 80s (at the early end) and I’m pretty comfortable with technology, but I’m not ADHD about it, nor do I feel the need to post daily pictures of my lunch with annotations of “OMG LOL”. Nor do I think this is how most of my generation are. But my goodness, today made me wonder.
Nikki wanted to go and check out the Finders Keepers markets in Eveleigh, so we jumped off the train in Redfern and decided to “follow the hipsters” rather than be too particular about directions. It was a pretty safe strategy. The group of late-teen girls we ended up tagging behind were animatedly discussing a friend’s relationship where - and I am not kidding - all the action related to changes of Facebook status.
“So she suddenly went from ‘in a relationship’ to ’single’ and I was like ‘What?’ and I dunno…like, maybe I should ask her or something?”
Like they say these days, if it’s not on Facebook, it didn’t happen.
At the markets, it was a pretty mixed group: hipsters, yipsters, parents with well-dress toddlers, schoolkids - a good cross section of White People. It was cool enough, although even Nikki had to admit that after seeing 15 stalls with design grads theming their work around owls and birds and deer head, it gets a bit old.
While we were there, the live entertainment consisted of a girl who couldn’t have been more than 18 strumming her guitar and singing folky numbers. The incongruous thing was that half of her set consisted of angsty early-90s covers (The Cranberries, 4 Non-Blondes etc) and the remainder was her own compositions including songs about - here we go again - Facebook. Arguing with friends and stalking boys online. Write about what you know, I guess. But more than anything, I just want to know how someone born in the 90s even discovers 4 Non Blondes.
What I’m trying to say is this: people born before 1975, I apologise. You were right. I’m sure people my age have spent the last few decades looking just as absurd to you as these guys do. I just have one last question: how did you not end up slapping us?

After my first day in my new job, I blurted out to Nikki, “I’ve got an office, a Blackberry and a personal assistant! Who am I?”