Hi, I'm the California Yuppie! - #68
Hi, I’m the California Yuppie! You may not know me outside of the Golden State, but if you live in Los Angeles or the Bay Area, you’ve seen my strut these streets in my Warby Parkers. Some of you commie kids might label me a “West Coast elite” or a “woke capitalist”, but I’m more a “typical upper-class liberal” of the late Gen X variety, some flattering me with “early Millennial”. You guessed right — I’m the yuppie from the 80s and 90s who worked his ass off to become the person I am today: a Winner.
My beliefs are simple, straight forward, and most of all, rational: socially liberal, fiscally conservative. You see, I’m down with the LGBT and the BLM – just please don’t defund the police, raise taxes, or build government housing next to my château. No Asian Hate, of course, but raise your rent in Koreatown? Absolutely.
That’s right, I’m your landlord! I “maintain” a few rental properties so I can live comfortably in Mar Vista, Marina del Rey, Pasadena, or any small, welcoming community away from the crack addicts and homeless people. My tenants’ shit jobs subsidize my bullshit lifestyle, like my art therapy, yoga classes, Brazilian jujitsu, and wine tastings. I love my single family home, its green lawn, and the fact that its property value is bankrolled by all the poor people living in the inner city apartments. It’s true!
Now, I can’t fund my stupid hobbies and dumb house by robbing a third of people’s incomes, so that’s why I have a cushy, 9-to-5, bullshit job in the fill-in-the-blank sector: brand specialist, PR lobbyist, financial researcher, corporate lawyer. CONSULTANT. White privilege? Born on a silver platter? Hey, I worked hard to get here, pulling weekends and not calling Mom. I had to do a lot of unpaid internships early on to get where I am today, and the struggle continues – you try crafting a takeover bid while the cleaner is yapping and vacuuming. At least in the end, it pays off: three weeks paid vacation (four if I impress the Chief Executive Genius!). I’m a worldly traveler who enjoys getting lost in exotic locations like Cancun, Cabo, or Tulum. Don’t believe me? I have a million pictures to back it up, a few even with my two kids.
One younger, one older. My precocious boy Percy attends a private academy; can’t let the public school system turn him into an idiot. No delinquents to humiliate his glasses, no teachers standing in his way. It’s the perfect institution to prepare him for college from the sixth grade. And although I love Percy, my favorite is Zoey, my biracial, biethnic, bisexual daughter whom I've pressured to succeed. She hates me now but she’ll thank me later. Her boyfriend is a good kid; I wouldn’t let just any boy get silly with my princess. He told me over golf that he has a fair shot at getting into Berkeley, or some dumb liberal arts college to study Sports Marketing — I said, “Hell yeah,” then swung for God. I love my kids, conditionally.
I hold an Equinox membership. I frequent Whole Foods. The Citizen app is my best friend. I know all the business podcasts. All enjoyed from the comfort of my Tesla, my empty confirmation that I “made it”. Yes, I drive a stupid fucking Tesla not because I give a shit about the planet but more because my neighbors bought a Tesla and I don’t want to look like the odd one out with my Porsche so I trashed that beauty of German engineering for the vehicle of tomorrow. The dumbass contraption runs on Windows Vista, sure, but what's the alternative? Walking, cycling, public transportation? With all those smelly blue collar folk? Gross! Riding the bus is for those that didn’t work hard enough – I use a car because that's what smart people do.
I make things happen. I change the world. I am the Winner of the American Culture (and its complicit upholder), unlike all you little people – the garbage man, the gardener, the bartender, the barista, the flight attendant – no, I run this place. Err, one day I will. Maybe I’ll start that business idea I’ve been holding onto for years. Or start beekeeping. I am, after all, the California yuppie.
Photo by Maurice Williams on Unsplash
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