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Generation (Hard) Y(akka)

7 Jul

When I applied for the overseas volunteering opportunity, I was struggling to find employment as a recent double-degree graduate. I completed my studies at the end of 2008. Just after the GFC unleashed itself on the world.

It’s tough being a Gen Y graduate. There are more university graduates in the jobmarket than ever before. Competition is fierce. It was particularly so after the GFC. No one was hiring.

An article written by a member of Gen Y, or, as I would call it, Gen Hard Yakka, struck me. I’ve reproduced some of it below:

Young people have simply never known what proper job security is. We are so acutely aware of how difficult it is to find a job that when we eventually get one, we work incredibly hard to protect it and remain wary of how fleeting it may be.

We entered the workforce when a job was a rare privilege.

Some of us work with the fear of being fired and accept that as legitimate because, well, that’s just the way things are these days. If you’re not the best at your job then employers are entitled to get someone who is.

This attitude shocks baby boomers who entered the workforce before unionism went out of fashion along with bell-bottomed jeans. To baby boomers, the casualisation of the workforce is a one-fingered salute to workers’ rights. To generation Y, it is an entirely acceptable and pragmatic reality of our uncertain financial times.

Influenced by an endless conveyor belt of strikes and memories of glorious unionists during the 1960s and ’70s, boomers have always believed their job is their right and no one would dare sack them for having a few off days and a sickie or two. They never experienced the distress of being a qualified, ambitious, industrious graduate desperately looking for a job in a threadbare market.

Generation Y aren’t just harder-working and more enjoyable to work with because they’re young and fresh. We have an appreciation for a job that our parents [baby boomers] simply don’t.”

I agree in large part with the above views. I hope this post didn’t come across as a huge whinge, especially as I feel very privileged to have steady and interesting employment right now.

I’m merely pointing out, as this young lady has, that a young university-educated person in Australia has a precarious short-term future.

University graduates in Vietnam have better prospects of gaining employment (corresponding to their profession) than in Australia. The competition is far too high in Australia.

However, new occupations are emerging, such as social media analysts and consultants, which did not exist 30 or even 10 years ago.

Hopefully, positions in the developing labour market will be filled with bright young minds which will bring about transformations of existing structures, systems and the status quo.

Pangs of Jealousy

1 Jun


This is my 10th blog on this thing. What have I learned? Do I feel more resolved because of this? In short, lots and yes. I am starting to realise that perspective is everything in development and beyond. It is the reason why volunteers are effective. My experience was both humbling and rewarding. Writing and publishing about my time in Peru has caused me to seriously reflect about what I want the world to know about them and what I did. Of course, in doing so, I hope that others would want to volunteer with Peru’s Challenge one day but I think the reason why I love blogging about it so much is for me. To retrieve my experiences from my brain to something tangible provides a sense of closure. It reminds me that my experience was real.

PACE are sending a new Macquarie Uni group to volunteer at Peru’s Challenge this July. I am really happy for the new volunteers because their lives are going to be changed forever and they are going to have the time of their lives just like me only a few months ago. But in all honesty, I am jealous of the experience they are going to have. I am jealous that they get to see my favourite kids, Cynthia and Doris. I am jealous they get to live in the house that I lived in, surrounded by lush mountains. I am jealous they get to work with Jane and Selvy, the NGO founders, and I am jealous because it’s not me this time around. I know that it should never be about me, but I have realised that those kids mean more to me than I can imagine and they have done more for me, more than I could have ever done for them. Just being around them makes me want to be that little bit better.

The thing I fear the most right now is that the kids will forget us. Or worse, replace us with the new group. I hope they don’t. But if they do, then I pray that all the future volunteers would love these kids the way that they deserve. I hope that these kids would squeal in delight while playing with the new group. I hope that they latch onto the new guys like they did with us. They deserve big brothers and sisters who will lift them up and spin them around. They deserve piggy back rides and hand clap games. They are kids. Sometimes they are forced to grow up a bit faster because they are obliged to look after the family and complete a tonne of chores, but in their heart of hearts, they are just kids.

Pop quiz time!

30 May

Q. What do you do when you return from your volunteering experience overseas?

A. Bore your friends and family with endless stories of your wild adventures and amazing interactions with the locals.

B. Go back to your office job and muse over that hazy, distant dream.

C. Reflect on your amazing experiences and use them as a launch pad for your journeys back home.

D. Become disillusioned and promptly leave the country, bound for more traveling adventures.

I did all of the above, and permutations of combinations in between as well.

As a ‘returned volunteer’, you’re a piece of the puzzle that doesn’t fit. You generally have to find a spot to fit in, or carve your own spot. I prefer the latter.

Thinking about different worlds, and how people live in such different worlds sometimes does my head in. Sometimes I see the cleaners in my office block, and I remember the maid I had in Vietnam and the wonderful relationship I developed with her.

Some of you out there are understandably thinking, ‘You exploitative pig!’, in response to the fact I had a maid. Sure, I initially was against it. However, it’s a legitimate and respectable occupation, and if I can pay her rather generously for her services, and help her put her daughter through tertiary education (very rare for girls in Vietnam), then I’ll happily do it.

There’s a guy who comes around and waters the many plants in my office block, and tends to them, by wiping them of dust etc. He comes around once every fortnight. I have a bit of a chat with him whenever he’s around. He’s really nice and I’d like to do that job or something like that at one stage in my life. Or a window cleaner of buildings. It’ll be like rock climbing each day. How fun! These individuals have jobs which are a bit out of the ordinary (as compared to office workers).

It reminds me of being a jigsaw piece that doesn’t quite fit.

I recently moved to a new division, new branch, new team in my organisation. Everyone is nice, but I can tell they find it a bit difficult to suss me out. They aren’t sure where or how I fit in the work environment. I need to carve out my own space.

For me, I’m comfortable being an unfitting jigsaw piece. It’s liberating. I have the freedom to dream, to be creative, to determine my own journey. I attribute my older brother and sister as key shapers of this ‘philosophy’.

At the beginning of my final year in high school, they painted a painting for me for my birthday in February. It depicted a hand pushing aside long grass to reveal the sandy shores of a beach with blue, blue sky extending upwards. The words “Do not follow where the path may lead. Go instead where there is no path and leave a trail” were stretched across the top of the painting.


It was such a strong message of encouragement from both of them, particularly as I was being pressured to embark on certain paths at that point in time. I wasn’t very confident at that point in time either. So that gift was such a force in my final year of high school. I ended up choosing a path in university that I’m very happy with. That message still resonates with me, and was definitely pivotal in my decision to leave Sydney (and family and friends) to volunteer in Vietnam for a year. To leave physical comfort and lack of fulfilment, for physical discomfort and much-needed life-changing and self-shaping experiences and wonderful challenges and opportunities along the way.

Being an unfitting jigsaw piece suits me fine. It’s much more interesting for me that way.

Oh, home! Let me come hooooome!

15 May

I moved to Canberra a few months back to start a new job. I’ve been riding my bike to work, and I ride my bike until I get home.

I really enjoy riding my bike. Back in Hanoi, I was seen as strange and backward because I preferred to ride my bike to riding a motorbike/motoped/scooter. I did eventually contributed to another motoped on the congested roads of Hanoi. And it was awesome. But I still maintained that riding a bike was also very awesome. In Hanoi, a motorbike is a status symbol. Riding a bike denoted poverty/being a student/being a street seller. I told my workmates (who were environmentally aware) that I chose to ride a bicycle to lower my carbon emissions. They still gave me confused looks.

Here in Canberra one morning, I was riding on my way to work and caught a bit of the song, Home, when passing by a cafe that was playing music out of its speakers. I really like that song. I especially like how passionate and in-the-moment the artists are when they perform that song. It’s evident they truly enjoy making the music and their words come from within.

So while I was riding and humming to that song, I thought about where home for me is, now that I’m living in Canberra. Is it home? Or is Sydney still home, considering I grew up there, and my family and old friends are there? Then I thought about the saying, “Home is where the heart is”. Where is my heart? Part of it is in Hanoi, where I volunteered for 12 months. Part of it is in Puku Cafe.

The friend I mentioned in my last post asked if I were to come back to visit Hanoi after I returned to Australia. I said that I really wanted to, depending on my finances and my circumstances. He said that one way to ensure I return to Hanoi was to leave something there with a friend. That’s what he did. He left some of his books and possessions with a friend in Sydney, to ensure he would return someday to visit.

It’s a nice thought.

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