Friday, February 13

401k life

i just got out of my architectural engineering management class and today we talked about comparing job offers, benefit packages, and retirement plans. we ended the hour with a 401k example. i learned that if i start working at age 24, make $50K a year, contribute 5% of my income to my 401k with the company matching 2.5% that i will retire in 42 years with approximately 2.5 million dollars. then the teacher said, "every one of you will have at least 2 million when you retire. you'll need more because 2.5 million won't be worth as much in 42 years. but you'll all be millionaires." i put my pencil down.

i felt trapped and disgusted. do i have a choice? is sitting here in this major, in this classroom destining me to become something i have no control over? because that's how it feels. the pull is so strong. over the years the command to be loyal to success and professionalism has washed over me so many times i have become numb to it.

the department of architectural engineering is an automaton factory. it produces mindless followers. everyone reaches the same conclusions about what is important. everyone agrees on how to dress for interviews, how to speak with employers, and what the acceptable procedure/format is for our homework. we pretend we are talking to building owners (our instructors) when we give presentations. we even dress up for them! what kind of sick fantasy is this? i was offered a polo by a girl in my group when i wasn't wearing the appropriate clothing for a mock company presentation, though i knew it was coming and kept this in mind when i got dressed that morning. i went home and changed.

the sad part is that everyone is happy about this. eagerly awaiting their chance to graduate and make it big in industry. students throw around numbers like they have no value. they check their stocks in the computer lab and complain about how they're doing. and they're more than happy to tell you what their return is on their online savings account.

honestly, what's the big deal about retirement anyway? really? 2.5 million? what exactly are you planning to do in the last 10-20 years of your life? people like to believe they go somewhere nice when they die. but i'm not sure they really believe it. why else does everyone seem so intent on creating their own personal heaven during the last years of their lives?

i refuse to 'save' myself for retirement. i refuse to 'take care of my body' so that i can use it well when i'm 60. use it well for WHAT? will i be able to go back and pour myself out into all the missed opportunities?

i want to be well used when i die. i want to be worn out. faded. torn. chipped. dinged up. repaired. stripped and repainted.

partly in defiance i chose to do senior project MEP (mechanical, electrical, plumbing) instead of structural. and i'm going to be a carpenter after college instead of an engineer. this confuses the crap out of almost everyone i talk to. they don't get it. why would i switch things up? when everyone starts to think they have me figured out, when they have me put in my little cubby and know my place, it makes me mad. and i won't be defined by what everyone else thinks i should be.

i don't think anyone's trying to do it on purpose. the professors are generally good people. but something's just not right about it.

seaton hall, we have made so many memories together. but i won't miss you.

5 comments:

  1. i wonder if education has always been this self-centered. it's all about self-propagation.

    sigh.

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  2. quitting seaton and that department as a fifth year was the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.

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  3. it's tough knowing how much is too much. where is the difference between saving money and hoarding it? i don't have an answer.

    to counter the culture and live in the tension is the name of the game.

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  4. crime and punishment was my least favorite all the dostoevsky books i've read in a lot of ways. brothers is very different and just so good. not nearly as dark.

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  5. Wow, Jeff, way to put your foot down. That's intense.

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