Weighted name.

A warm, irritable May day…

Kel: “Hey dear, can you go talk to the kids for me?”
Spencey: “Whatever you want, Princess.”
Judson: “I think you just took that too far.”

I’ve always hated the nickname Princess. It seems to me that it’s either disgustingly romantic and sappy or bitterly sarcastic. It’s a name of entitlement.

I read a question yesterday (yes, in CosmoGirl, which I hate by the way) that asked: Do you think Gen Y feels entitled?

Entitled to what? The immediate answers below were accusations of older generation saying that we don’t believe we should have to work for what we get. I think to some extent this is true. I also think–like nearly everything under the sun–entitlement as a concept isn’t absolute; it isn’t necessarily good or bad, it just is.

It tends to have negative effects, so I think that’s why the connotation of being called ‘entitled’ is so awful. I have a handful of memories in newspaper or times editors felt ‘entitled’ to write on their own schedules. This made the other staff writers upset, as they had stricter–and earlier–deadlines.

And this, my friends (and Spencer), is life. Of course Gen Y feels entitled; the whole world feels entitled. Every single individual feels like they deserve something.

Corporate America, my lovely niche of employment, believes certain individuals are entitled to certain privileges. I had the opportunity to regulate paychecks yesterday. If a salaried employee came in, he or she was free to find his or her check and grab a few for an employee in a nearby cubicle, no questions asked. If an hourly (aka factory) employee came in, he or she had to provide identification to receive his or her check. Furthermore, taking another’s check required signing off on various forms.

I’m not saying this is wrong. I do believe that the salaried employees show more responsibility, especially judging by their past preparations. At the same time, I understand why the factory employees feel snubbed.

One final story of entitlement: during the Hall Sweep one morning, I was caught in the hallway by Mr. Cunningham. I was not wearing an I.D. The consequence of being Kelly Frye was this: he said hi to me and asked me how my morning was going. And then left with four other students about to get detentions.

Princess? Nah. My “weighted name,” as Evie once called it, doesn’t entitle me to a full-ride, amazing job, or free gas. Being Kelly Frye doesn’t do that. It just gets me out of detention.

Tags: amusing slashes against Spencey, entitlement, royalty, stories