At least twice a week I get accosted by angry members of the younger generation who insist I’m clogging the job pipeline and have to get out of the way so they can pursue their careers, make their first million, get a promotion and kick me out of my office onto 45th Street. That’s not asking too much, is it?
My goals are modest. All I want is to collect a paycheck, pay the mortgage, enjoy an occasional piece of grilled salmon and play fetch with the dog. I never made a million, I can’t remember my last promotion and I have a cluttered desk with lunch leftovers buried beneath piles of paper.