Gen Z Graduates

Gen Z Graduates: Welcome to the Thunderdome (aka the Job Market) - May the McOdds Be Ever in Your Favor

So, graduation. That magical time when the world is your oyster, and by oyster, we mean a lukewarm Filet-O-Fish you'll be serving at 2 AM. Remember those inspiring commencement speeches about changing the world and reaching for the stars? Yeah, throw those out with the crumpled remains of your 30th ghosted resume. Because for Gen Z, the only thing reaching for the stars involves a step stool to clean the McDonald’s "Employee of the Month" plaque.

Let's be real, kids. That shiny Computer Science degree? Adorable. All those late nights fueled by instant ramen and the faint hope of becoming a cybersecurity wizard, battling digital dragons and saving the internet from itself? Quaint. Turns out, the late-stage capitalist economy has a different role in mind for you, and it involves a headset and the phrase, "Would you like fries with that?"

You spent four years mastering algorithms and data structures, only to be mastered by the unforgiving algorithm of online job applications that apparently filters out anyone with a pulse and a desire for a living wage. Who needs to protect against cyber threats when you're busy protecting your meager paycheck from evaporating due to inflation?

Forget the corner office with the ergonomic chair. Your office is now a sizzling grill, and your ergonomic support comes from wearing two pairs of non-slip shoes. That dream of coding complex security systems? Replaced by the complex security system of ensuring no one steals extra ketchup packets.

The irony is thicker than the grease on the fryers. You, the generation raised on technology, fluent in coding languages that would make your grandparents' heads spin, are now tasked with the ancient art of flipping meat patties. The pinnacle of your digital prowess? Mastering the touchscreen ordering system, a feat of engineering that makes cracking encryption look like child's play.

And let's not even talk about the pay. That "minimum wage" you'll be earning? It's less a living wage and more a "barely survive wage," perfectly designed to keep you perpetually hustling for the next shift, forever out of reach of that elusive "financial stability" your parents vaguely remember.

So, congratulations, Class of Whenever. You've successfully navigated the treacherous waters of higher education, only to be shipwrecked on the shores of minimum wage reality. Embrace the uniform, perfect your "sorry, the ice cream machine is broken" spiel, and maybe, just maybe, you can hack the employee discount system to afford that extra-large McFlurry.

The good news? You'll develop a whole new set of valuable skills. Like lightning-fast reflexes to catch falling fries, the ability to decipher mumbled orders through a broken intercom, and the unwavering determination to show up for a job that actively chips away at your soul. Those are transferable skills, right? Right?

So, chin up, future burger barons. Your CS dreams might be on hold, indefinitely. But hey, at least you'll have a steady supply of lukewarm coffee and the satisfaction of knowing you're on the front lines of the gig economy, one McChicken at a time. The revolution will not be televised, but it might be served with extra pickles.