career – Michmutters
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Australia

Loving your job is a capitalist trap, say some Gen Zs and millennials. They’re rejecting the 9-to-5, but how are they coping financially?

Wake up, eat, go to work, come home, eat, sleep, repeat.

Living the dream, huh?

“Personally, I believe I’m not meant to work. I’m meant to do this all day,” says an audio track on TikTok that went viral for its candid message: working a 9-to-5 job is no longer the ideal lifestyle for many.

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One video that uses this audio shows a woman sitting at a cafe, enjoying a coffee and croissant. Ella’s phone camera pans around, revealing a dozen others leisurely doing the same.

It has over three million views.

The video-based app has become a hub for Gen Zs and Millennials to create apathetic and pessimistic commentary about their disillusionment towards work.

What’s fueling this? Toxic workplace culture, minimal flexibility, no work life balance and of course, the pandemic.

Deloitte’s Global 2022 Gen Z & Millennial Survey revealed four in 10 Gen Zs and nearly a quarter of Millennials would like to leave their jobs in two years.

Roughly a third would do so without another job lined upthe report found.

However, if you love what you do, is it true that you’ll never work a day in your life?

Engineer-turned-career-development practitioner Naishadh Gadani said the dream job is “an overly simplistic and misused term”.

“Rather than thinking of it as a dream job, we should be questioning whether it’s a fulfilling job,” Mr Gadani told ABC News.

“Questions like: What fulfills me? What brings me happiness? What kind of workplace or organization do I like? – [these] can help us.”

Juliette had ‘golden ticket’ job but quit and now works casually in hospitality

Juliette, 22, from Victoria, landed her first white-collar job from her sister’s roommate at the time, who worked in the public service.

After hearing that she was looking for trainees who required no qualifications, Juliette applied and was offered the job.

“It was a golden ticket because I was 20, had no qualifications past a mediocre ATAR, and was now working full-time and getting paid a decent wage.

“I received a lot of praise from friends and family. It was a job that my family could gloat about,” she said.

After nine months into the job, Juliette quit. She said she felt like a failure.

A young, brown-haired woman in a black suit and white shirt with a lanyard over it stands in front of a house
Juliette on her first day of her public service job. (Supplied: Juliette Melody Grace)

“I had spent months toying with the idea of ​​whether money or my mental health was more important,” she said.

Four months after she quit, Juliette traded full-time work for a casual job in hospitality and she has never been happier.

“My job isn’t who I am. I don’t base my worth on my productivity within capitalism.”

Despite her reduced working hours, coupled with a rising cost of living, Juliette remains “optimistic” about the future.

“As bad as things are economically, it’s just a cycle. There are bigger problems than my wallet.”

Alex’s dream was to play in a band. I realized it was not as glamorous as it sounded

Alex, 32, was in his first year of university when a friend asked what he wanted to do for a career.

“She said to ignore the money and say the first thing that came to mind. I blurted out: ‘I want to play in a band.’

“That’s the moment I decided playing in a band was my ‘dream job’,” he said.

A black and white photo of Alex Carrette performing on stage with his guitar
While it’s not his “dream job”, Alex’s day job is in the aerospace industry.(Supplied: Alex Carrette)

However, as Alex became more involved in Brisbane’s music scene, he saw how the life of a band member wasn’t as glamorous as their fans might suspect.

“Playing shows to hundreds of fans sounds incredible, but this is only a small part of a touring musician’s life,” he said.

Over the years, Alex decided he wouldn’t let a job consume his identity, so he allowed himself to simply “have a job.”

His current “day job” is working in the aerospace sector. But he hasn’t given up on ditching the 9-to-5 routine.

“I’ve recently gotten into making my own YouTube videos as well as editing them for clients. So, that’s another possibility,” he explained.

Alex said his ideal situation would be to play local shows in small venues, as opposed to touring nationally or internationally.

“I don’t see that as a failure. So long as I’m enjoying playing music, that’s a success in my mind,” he said.

Owning a home is ‘unachievable’ for Ishara, but she believes this is no longer the dream for young people

During primary school, Ishara Sahama, 23, dreamed of becoming a vet.

It wasn’t until her final years of high school — when she gravitated towards the humanities and social sciences field.

After graduating university with a major in geography in 2019, Ms Sahama spent a few years volunteering and gaining work experience.

She now works part-time in the social enterprise and entrepreneurship space.

“Ever since I started working, I’ve seen people who are either in their mid-20s-30s, or in their 40-50s, resign from the public sector and move to private, or vice-versa,” Ms Sahama said.

A photo of Ishara Sahama smiling
Ishara Sahama says “the Australian dream” is a luxury that doesn’t reflect the realities of young people. (Supplied: Ishara Sahama)

“Pushing young people to pick a dream job — or will it into existence — can be detrimental to their personal growth.”

“The past two years have changed the way work is conducted. A 9-to-5 job, five days a week can be condensed to four days,” she said.

“And, yet, people who do or don’t have this work structure may still struggle to keep up with Australia’s rising cost of living.”

Ms Sahama saves on certain costs by living with her family, paying for petrol and groceries, costs that have only increased over time.

While these costs are manageable for her, Ishara feels indifferent when it comes to buying a home.

“The idea of ​​owning, or leasing, a property in the future is now unachievable for me, considering current economic circumstances,” she said.

“The ‘Australian Dream’ is a luxury and a privilege. It doesn’t reflect everyday realities of young people who must change and adapt to the workforce in a post-COVID world.”

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Categories
Sports

Inside the Game: Hard work, sharp skills, high footy IQ and getting better after 30 — how David Mundy found the fountain of youth

For centuries, nay millennia, people have been obsessed with finding the fountain of youth. Rich mythology from the times of Alexander the Great and the legends of Greek history onwards have spoken about the quest for eternal youth.

Conquistador Juan Ponce de León was said to have been searching for the fabled fountain in the 16th century when he met his untimely demise in Florida, becoming an early example of “Florida Man”.

Perhaps Ponce de León would have been better off searching in and around Seymour: That’s where David Mundy hails from. Despite the endless march of the clock, Mundy seems to get better each year.

On Monday, Mundy called time on his illustrious and lengthy career. Since 2005, Mundy has been a rock for the tribe in purple, a constant force.

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His journey is unique, aging like a portrait of Dorian Gray and following a path that few, if any, players had forged before.

Blue Mundy

Mundy’s place as one of the competition’s best midfielders in the 2020s would have been utterly inconceivable in late 2004. Back then, Mundy was a talented junior player plying his trade for a talented Murray Bushrangers’ side, as well as for Vic Country.

A Fremantle player holds the ball in front of him as he looks downfield while a Sydney player grabs onto his shirt.
David Mundy started his career with the Dockers in 2005 in defense.(Getty Images: Adam Pretty)

But Mundy wasn’t playing through the middle, instead playing as a full-back.

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A surplus of talented midfielders for the Bushrangers led the coaches to call for volunteers to play down back. The selfless Mundy volunteered for the new role, and he thrived in it.

Mundy started his career in defense, with his first AFL season ending with third place on the Rising Star list.

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But Mundy’s future was in the middle, a move that has paid dividends. His years in defense improved his ability to read the flight and bounce of the ball. Mundy is able to snatch the ball from the grasp of opponents at will.

His teammates — such as longtime teammate Michael Walters — attribute his ongoing ability to his footy IQ.

“He’s one of the smartest players I’ve ever played with. He knows his way around the footy field which obviously gives him the longevity,” Walters said last year.

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On the field Mundy shapes as the hardest worker out there, often jumping and reacting before others can get a jump on the play. It’s perhaps why his game has aged so well, reliant less on speed than smarts.

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That’s not to discount his athletic abilities. One of the reasons that Mundy was a credible, tall defender was his sheer size and strength. At 193cm and 93kgs, Mundy was arguably one of the first of the current wave of “big bodied midfielders”, paving the way for Patrick Cripps, Marcus Bontempelli and Christian Petracca.

A dot map of David Mundy's disposals in the 2022 AFL season, with blue dots for kicks and orange dots representing handballs.
David Mundy’s disposal locations in 2022.(Supplied: Cody Atkinson and Sean Lawson)

Few can win the ball on the inside then drill the perfect ball down the throat of a leading forward. Mundy is able to release the ball to teammates via pinpoint handballs or shred opposition defenses via foot, with his disposal skills getting sharper over time.

He’s also got a knack of impacting the game when it matters.

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Mundy stands almost alone for how his game has aged and improved over time. His 20 Brownlow Medal votes last year was the most of his career, and the most for a player over 34 years of age since 1985.

help the aged

Major milestones have become a regular occurrence for footy fans in recent years. Of the 98 players to play in at least 300 games, 63 have played in the 2000s.

In the past three years, the 10 “oldest” sides in VFL/AFL history have all been fielded by the ladder-leading Geelong.

The rules about player age and performance are being rewritten on a yearly basis, with improved fitness regimes and sports science programs as a contributing factor.

However, the long hangover from the Coulter Law — instituted in 1930’s VFL, capping payments and outlawing sign-on bonuses and other inducements — and lessons learned from it, might have finally eased on selection panels and recruiting departments across the league.

In the last round of the 1947 season, Melbourne spearhead Fred Fanning walked off the field triumphantly after kicking 18 goals in an afternoon of footy.

Despite the Fuchsias missing the finals by a game, Melbourne had real hope for the future, led by their 25-year-old goal master.

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However, it would be Fanning’s last game in the red and blue. Fanning received an offer for at least three times more money to play and coach in his wife’s home town of Hamilton. Fanning led his new club to a premiership immediately and kicked bags of goals for years to come.

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Fanning was far from the only player to leave the VFL in their prime. Peter Box is the only Bulldog to win a Brownlow Medal and a Premiership and was just 25 years old when he played his last VFL game. Box left for more money in towns like Goreng Goreng and Narrandera, where he dominated the competition.

The Coulter Law, in existence from 1930 to 1970, limited players to a meager wage, three pounds, for much of the time. Players would often build a platform in the VFL, before chasing proper professionalism in the VFA or lower leagues.

That law chased older and successful players out of the game, and gave clubs with good commercial contacts a huge edge.

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