The Taxman Cometh

While life's two certainties may be death and taxes, quarterlife's two certainties are debt and taxes.

This time of year, it's good to focus on both.

Trouble is, that tax return you were banking on to wipe out your debt might not be the windfall you wished for. Why? Well, if you're a recent grad in any field aside from pharmaceuticals, you're most likely in one of the lowest tax brackets north of the poverty line.

And if that's the case, you ain't getting much back from Uncle Sam. That's because a smaller percentage of your income was taken out of your check than that of your pharmacist pal. But your paycheck seemed miniscule, you say? Easy answer: One, you ain't making that much to start (see above), and two, the rest of your pre-tax income was pillaged by other scoundrels. Namely, your company-provided health and dental benefits (did they not remind you that 15 percent of the cost would come out of your monthly income?), social security (good luck attempting to collect that in 39 years), Medicare (good luck attempting to collect that in 39 years), and that company pension plan (let's hope the Enron accountants don't have their paws on yours).

So you're left with small paychecks that barely give you enough cash to buy no-frills-version Rice Chex, let alone the milk to wash it down. And now you're sitting in the chain-store version of an accounting office with some semi-retired 74-year-old former bank teller giving you an unabridged lesson in Savings 101. But you're hardly contributing to your 401k, you're paying off the credit card minimums on debt you've accrued since day one of freshman year (note: buying kegs and reserving keg taps on a credit card is not the best move), and you've got no Scrooge McDuck inheritance to fall back on.

Your one shot at redemption -- interest from college loans -- yields no fruit for you, however, since your parents graciously told you they'd take care of the payments while your career was getting off the ground.

Meanwhile, Granny McCountant crunches the numbers on her abacus and reveals that you're the big winner -- you don't owe Uncle Sam. In fact, you'll be getting two hefty checks -- one from the feds, the other from the state. The grand totals: $18.67 and $1.38, respectively. Not even enough to cover the minimum payment on your credit card.

Perhaps it's time to start looking for some income elsewhere. No, not the double-your-return scratch-off game from the accountant. It's time to get a better job.

Snow Day!

Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night keeps postal workers from delivering the mail. Same goes for corporate workers. Rare is the snow day in the working world. Whereas the night before a major snowstorm kept anxious kids up late with pajamas inside out in hopes of waking to hear the radio or see the news crawl deliver the best news ever -- that school is closed -- the threat of snow keeps commuting workers awake anticipating major headaches. Bottom line is, school districts can make up days at the end of the school year; businesses cannot. So they remain open during a snow or ice storm. Often with harsher implications than those facing schoolchildren. Kids often have a mildly short, though potentially treacherous, walk to school or a bus ride with some Chris Farley-esque driver. Usually within the same town. But workers often travel great distances for their daily toil. And on snow days, they might be traveling from areas that received greater snowfall totals, or that are still being socked by bad weather while their offices are out of the storm's eye. They brave the hazardous road conditions. They brave long waits at bus and train stops while public transportation catches up on salting roadways and defrosting railroad tracks. All to make the company a few more dollars. And, after all the delays, when they finally arrive at the office just before 11 a.m., they find the big boss, the immediate boss, and half their co-workers are all out -- home with their kids or cashing in a sick day in exchange for safety. The only ones at the office -- offspring-less twentysomethings and thirtysomethings in constant competition with each other and in constant fear of job security. Welcome to Snow Day Survivor. Be sure to bring extra socks.

The Shadow Knows

Happy Groundhog Day! Today we celebrate the fact that TV meteorologists are so bad at making extended weather forecasts that we prefer to rely on the prognostications of a small woodland creature, Punxsutawney Phil. But today we also celebrate Job Shadow Day, a day when high school and middle school students venture into corporate America's workplaces to shadow hard-working professionals at their workstations. These youngsters get the unique opportunity to observe the species robotus corporatus in its natural habitat -- sitting for hours in front of computers, talking on the telephone, bickering over who's going to win the Super Bowl, gossiping about celebrities and the big boss, flinging poo and, occasionally, engaging in stimulating conversations about the future of their company. Yes, for one day out of the year, the office is turned upside down to allow worker bees to spread their seeds of knowledge to unsuspecting, optimistic youths who one day dream of graduating from college and working in a 3-by-5 cubicle with padded walls. For one day, these kids' dreams come true. Then they go back into their groundhog hole of ignorance and wait for a job forecast that calls for a warm and friendly career climate for them for the next 50 years. As for the workers, they get their small moment out of the groundhog hole to share their own forecast, only to bury their heads for the next 364 routine days. Days where they wake at 6 a.m. daily knowing the man has got them, babe. [Job Shadow Day]

Sick and Fired

Career-driven employees just can't afford to be sick these days

If you want to hold a steady job, you can't afford to be sick. If you want to climb the corporate ladder, you can't afford to be sick. And if you don't have good health coverage, you certainly can't afford to be sick.

In these demanding, competitive, capitalistic waters that we're all treading, a perfect attendance record is one of the keys to staying afloat. That's because perfect attendance means you're dedicated to your job. It means you don't make excuses. It means you're making sacrifices for the "good of the company."

Unfortunately, those sacrifices are usually bigger than canceling dinner with your significant other or bailing on poker night. Sometimes we sacrifice our health (not to mention our mental stability) for the good of the company. Working weekends and holidays, or long hours that cut into much needed sleep time. Or not taking a lunch or dinner break, thinking, "A can of soda and some M&M's at the vending machine will get me by."

The unhealthy devotion to a company or career path can start to take its toll -- well beyond sacrificing free time spent with friends or family. The lack of sleep -- either from having to work too long a day or from restless nights stressing over that big project or overbearing boss -- is one of the first culprits to the unhealthy corporate lifestyle.

The long days filled with short breaks are a natural fit for quick-fix meals and sugary snacks -- vending machine treats, soda or coffee for a caffeine jolt and fast food ordered in to munch on at the computer. But maybe a select few have the time to counter the unhealthy levels of sleep and junk food with some much-needed exercise. But we'll bet our stake that we would've spent at poker night (had we had the time to play) that more often than not, that gym membership card is not getting used too often. That the spa coupon expired long ago. And those cross-training sneakers, with barely a speck of dirt on them, are about to go out of style.

That's because many of today's young, corporate employees are flexing their career muscles to the point of exhaustion. The toxic combination of working much more than 40 hours a week, job-related stress, lack of sleep, poor nutrition, dearth of exercise and the occasional happy-hour indulgence can only lead to one thing: poor health.

Sure, some people's bodies have a higher tolerance for these dangerous side effects of the corporate climb, but at some point, mentally or physically, things are bound to catch up. The body will naturally become more susceptible to illness (especially when many are working in close quarters and traveling on public transportation with other sick folks).

But what happens when the go-getter employee becomes sick? Seldom does she take a day off. Or even take an hour or two out of the day to see a doctor. Why? Because that never-ending team project is perpetually due yesterday, and she plays an integral role in making sure that project meets or exceeds management's expectations. And she needs to ace this project for her chance at moving up to the next rung in her department.

Yet even with allotted sick days, few (aside from the slacker, Office Space type) take advantage of that Get-Out-of-Work-Free card. Rather, they go to work -- coughing, sneezing, nose running, head pounding, stomach aching. Doesn't matter.

But here's the rub (no, not the VapoRub). If this overachiever-at-any-cost employee simply took a sick day or two, her body might have a chance to recover a bit. And, by not bringing her NyQuil commercial of symptoms to the office, she could save a dozen colleagues from getting the same weeklong sickness that she's harboring -- thus increasing the chances of the project being completed on time by healthy co-workers.

But will she take that chance? Hell, no. She'd rather sacrifice her health than sacrifice the chance of looking like the project slacker who took a day off when it came to crunch time on that crucial deal.

Is there a way to combat this "at any cost" mindset? Well, the bigger companies may boast a cafeteria serving up healthier eating options. Or maybe they have a gym on the premises for employees to use on a power lunch or right after work. Some nice choices, if the employee has the time. Of course, taking advantage of these services results in employees not leaving the office for a breath of fresh air over the course of their 16-hour workday, but in a city, maybe the air indoors is just as good.

Still, these on-site, healthy options only serve as a brief remedy to the larger problem -- that few will sacrifice job security or a chance at career advancement for the sake of their health.

Those willing to take a day off to rest or an hour to visit the doctor will quickly realize that job security isn't the only reason to stay at the office when they discover the price of their skimped health coverage, high co-payments and absurd prescription costs.

Diagnosis: Any way you slice it, in our career-driven society, you just cannot afford to be sick.

Seeking Fame and Fortune at Any Cost

From USA Today: "'When you open a celebrity magazine, it's all about the money and being rich and famous,' says 22-year-old Cameron Johnson of Blacksburg, Va. 'The TV shows we watch -- anything from The Apprentice where the intro to the show is the 'money song' -- to Us Weekly magazine where you see all the celebrities and their $6 million homes. We see reality TV shows with Jessica and Nick living the life. We see Britney and Paris. The people we relate to outside our friends are those people.'"

Oh, Big Brother.

According to a Pew Research Center poll, 81 percent of 18- to 25-year-olds say getting rich is one of their generation's most important goals and 51 percent said the same about being famous.

Beyond the untouchable celebrities in the fields of entertainment and sports are the everyday folks who are becoming celebs thanks to reality TV and the Web. MySpace, YouTube, Facebook -- these sites allow average Joes and Janes to become overnight sensations, whether by showing skin, stupidity and lack of sanity. As do reality shows like The Real World and Jackass. In a world void of mass media, many of these folks would be relegated to the role of village idiot, peddling their take on humor or sex at the next subway stop, hoping to wrangle a few nickels out of people.

But in a world consumed by information and multimedia, in a world where skin, stupidity and lack of sanity are heralded, in a world where William Hung could top the Billboard charts, the village idiot reigns supreme. For the village idiot has no shame and seeks fame at any cost. Why? Because if fame is attained, the cost paid is much less than the amount made. Look at the bucks and popularity some 15-minutes-of-famers have spun out of stardom on reality TV, on MySpace, on blogs.

Now, if only we could. [USA Today]

It's a Smurf World, After All

Everyone's favorite little blue creatures enter the real world

Seems there was a smurf for every smurfin' emotion one could smurf of. Whether they were created smurfy or smurfy, smurfy or smurfy, those little blue rascals from the '80s serve as a perfect allegory for contemporary twentysomethings. Here's how they turned out:

Brainy. He graduated magna cum laude from some smurfy Ivy League school and won't let you forget it. Mr. Smurf-It-All was smart enough to not follow his dreams, but rather pursue a joint degree in computer science and finance so he could take the thousands he's raking in as an IT whiz and invest it wisely. And, just to protect his smurfy little assets, he got his juris doctorate. What a smurfin' smurf.

Grouchy. This miserable son of a smurf got a crap entry-level job in publishing right out of college and, three years later, he's got the same job. And his incessant pouting ensures that everyone knows his plight.

Lazy. Unemployed and smurfin' it, he's perfectly content living off unemployment checks, smurfing around the house in his pajamas and eating bowls of Smurfs cereal.

Vanity. This metrosexual smurf spends most of his time looking in the mirror and spends most of his money on tanning salons, clothes, electrolosis and Propecia. And he has Smurf Eye for the Smurf Guy to thank for it.

Cook. Sir Carbs-a-Lot was the last to catch onto the Atkins craze. And, unfortunately, his failed bagel business -- and some chubby smurfhandles -- are all he has to show for it. Thinner and sans gall bladder, he hopes to smurf his smurf around with a butcher shop.

Greedy. Made millions selling a dot-com smurf-up a few years back, but instead of diversifying his portfolio, he smurfed all his money into what surely seemed to be a safe company -- Enron.

Hefty. All those weights really helped this smurf get smurfed, and he smurfed his way into Major Smurf Baseball, where he continued to get smurfy. He even hit the smurf to increase his smurf. But when his smurf cap couldn't fit his smurfin' head any more and they couldn't tell his tail from his smurf, he got thrown out of baseball. Thin and unable to hit homers, he frequents Greedy's butcher shop.

Clumsy. He's collected big-time from worker's smurfensation. Three times.

Smurfette. This smurfy dame sure had her share of smurfs. And after she adopted the Paris Smurf look, the smurfs just kept flocking. But alas, she is raising a mushroom-hut full of smurfs all by her lonesome, and she's got a case of smurfes she just can't kick.

Handy. The crafty carpenter became a landlord, building smurf-budget housing and renting it out for high-budget rents. A sad slumsmurf who'll get what's smurfing to him.

Poet. Smurfed his own life while listening to Marilyn Smurfson.

Farmer. His land was smurfed up by the man so the state could run a highway through his farm, and now he's smurf out of luck collecting smurferment checks.

Jokey. Though he used to get all the laughs, Jokey's obsession with exploding gift boxes got him arrested and sent to Smurftanamo.

And as for Gargamel, well, his middle initial is now W.

Corporate Survivor

Impending layoffs make for great reality TV

What happens when people stop being polite and start getting real? Just take a job in corporate America and you'll find out real quickly.

That's because in the real real world, the working life isn't as glamorous as sharing an uber-posh pad with seven strangers/co-workers bickering over who gets to go in the hot tub. The real working world is sharing a made-for-two cubicle with a Milton-esque mole-man. The working world is bickering over who gets the better office parking spot in Lot ZZ. The working world is someone's twisted idea of reality TV.

Think of the office as a TV stage set. Or the island on Survivor. There are X amount of cubicles and workstations and X amount of employees. A good fit. But when the board of directors decides to play musical chairs with the various departments at your company, someone's gonna be left seatless when the music's over. The part-timers in accounting? Forget it, they'll find a way to make the numbers work. The fraternity known as the sales department? They'll make a pitch corporate can't refuse. The how-did-he-get-that-cushy-job executive with the $500K salary? Keep dreaming. The first seat to go will be yours -- whatever remaining department that may be in. Once the tribe has spoken, it's time to take that lonely walk to the unemployment line.

But perhaps you survive the initial slashes. It's on to week two of this show. And now is when it starts getting personal. After the first cuts, departments and colleagues start banding together, forming coalitions, establishing allies. But someone is the mole. Either laying low and listening intently to every rip made on upper management or urging the scorned to fight back. Be forewarned -- talking smack about the boss may come back to bite you in your soon-to-be unemployed ass. The tattletale almost always wins immunity.

Soon, the first round of practical cuts and second round of rabble-rouser evicting prove not to be enough. It's time to cut the fat. This is when you'll be thrilled to have that entry-level salary you've held preciously for the last five years. Some too-big-for-his-britches, big-headed, mid-level manager is about to walk the plank from his love cruise. Hopefully for you, it's your jackass boss.

Week four, and you're still around. Off in the background. You know your role. But perhaps it's time to step into the spotlight. To show you're no average Joe. Hold on there, champ. The next person who decides to shine in the void left by the middle management bozo is doomed. The spotlight is only going to bring to light the fact that there is actually a bigger ass at the company than the one that just got the boot. And to that person, the big wigs will be glad to say, "You're fired."

Onto week five, and the skeletal staff is tiring from longer hours, increased workload and playing hide-and-seek with the layoff legion of doom. It's time to energize. Time to load up on java, caffeine pills, speed. And time to practice up on buttering up to the remaining supervisors. Nothing quite like sounding chipper in a sea of Debby Downers. Just don't be too perky. Brown-nose too much and you'll begin to stink like ... On the flip side, don't get caught with your head resting on your silicon-filled mousepad in the midst of your team's crucial task. Sleep, lunch hours, bathroom breaks -- they're all time away from your work. Cave in to life's necessities and you'll quickly find out that the one with the weakest bladder is the weakest link. Goodbye.

Hiding in the bathroom half the day pretending you ate some bad sushi may have worked in the early rounds of this reality show, but now that you're a finalist, the cameras are going to follow you around every corner. Every email you write, scrutinized. Every phone call you make, taped. Every non-work-related web site you visit, flagged. Every quirky tie you wear, noted by the business casual fashion police. Do one thing to stray from the conformity of corporate culture -- from phrases you say to clothes you wear on wacky-tie day -- and you'll soon find out that for no good reason, you just don't fit in.

Sweeps week is upon the office, and you're officially cleaning up on this show. You've worked it out, and your boss even noted that "we've got a hot one tonight." Don't let the corporate culture shock fool you. That we're-smaller-but-closer mentality is just an illusion cast by some Gargamelian brainwasher of a CEO who's still earning his $1.6 million before annual bonus. Maybe you've even had some dialog with the chief executive recently. But the power trip could become a final destination to Laid-Offville if you get too chummy. A few hearty guffaws with the big cheese are swell; joking about her ex-husband is off limits. When it's time to go to that meeting of the few and brave survivors, once again, you'll see there aren't enough seats. You though, you in? Oh, you out.

For the season finale, all that's left at the company are senior executives, janitors and a tech guy -- oh, and you and your ferocious competitor battling it out for the position of junior assistant associate director of absolutely nothing. A giant task laid out in front of each of you -- restructuring the company budget so your salary can still be a line item -- and no one's left to hide behind or place blame on. Imagine that -- accountability in a corporate setting? Unfortunately, the accounting on your final task cashes you out a few bucks below your wily opponent. Though you may have the personality, he has the business savvy to earn the company some money by converting downsized employees' workstations into charge-by-the minute computer terminals for job seekers. So when they haul your ass into the boardroom and let you know you're fired, please don't ask, "Is that your final answer?"