misAdventures of Workmonkey 3.0

I am currently working on an ad assignment for Cingular that is set to launch on Myspace.com. The target group I am supposed to try and "connect to" is between 13 and 24 (like any ad has ever "connected" to anyone beyond an intimate relationship of annoyance). As part of the project briefing, the account team provided a list and "adult translation" of the interests of this youth demographic: the music they listen to, the shows they watch, the words they use, the products they buy.

By the time I reached the names of today's popular bands and products, I realized just how far from these "youth" I am at this point in my life. It is painfully clear I understand 21 year-olds roughly as well as I understand 4th Century Visigoth women. These youth have become as a lost tribe of natives from Papua New Guinea, where I am the faggy western explorer with khaki shorts, wicker hat, and pale white calves furiously trying to communicate with them.

Not only had I never heard of any of the bands on the list, but upon returning to my desk, I realized my iTunes is exclusively filled with bands from the early and mid-90s, which is the last time I put any (unsuccessful) effort into being cool. I still consider Pearl Jam to be an emerging band. Artic Monkeys who? Mims what? Daughtry where? Granted, even in college, I was never into that whole "underground" band thing. People who ruled out music only because it was popular were in serious need of a physical realignment, courtesy of my fists. Those people took so much pride that the only stuff they listened to was shit most people had not heard of, like they were auditory explorers, delivering true music to ears of the special. They would fucking huff a little too much when you told them you had never heard of some band called "The Fingerlings", and derided you for listening to 2Pac. Dragonhair was a lot like that, come to think of it.

In any event, as a 31 year-old white out-of-touch purveyor of mass media, I officially have nothing to say to the youth of America. In practice, it takes well too much effort to stay cool. You basically have to research cool. These days, I'd rather read about politics than hot spring cashmere fashions. I'd rather watch Lost than take the subway up to Queens to find obscure new bands. And I'd rather eat carrots than drink AirForce NutriSoda (according to the brief, the hot drink for youth). But that's fine by me. The last thing i want to become is one of these alternadads, these married gayboys in their late 30's with a few kids who think they are severely cool cause they still wear Pumas, listen to StellaStar, and own lowrider bicycles. This is a movement I cannot support. If you are a 38 year-old dad, act like one. Accept your place in the pecking order. You are are old and pasty whether or not your wear Adicolor Shoes (another item on the "cool" list I was provided with. On a side note, this list of "what's hot" for kids was somewhat comical. Apparently, there are youth research agencies that hold focus groups to find out what is cool among youth, then sell their compiled lists to companies like ours for about 30 grand. But it is all a bunch of shit. Here are some items pulled from the list of what's hot: Assassin (?), Matisyahu, Experience as Currency, and Hydration Stations at Parties).

The truth is, though, all these things are cool precisely because people like me don't know about them. These things are designed to appeal to kids, which, I no longer happen to be. If I knew about these things, they wouldn't be cool, would they? Kids are always racing the older people to find new, cool shit. The very minute the old people find out about what the kids are doing, it stops being cool. It justifies the Observer Effect (not to be confused with the Uncertainty Principle). In other words: the exact second Mark Anderson hears of a cool youth band, is the exact second that band changes, and becomes uncool.

Ultimately, I will sell an old, white ad to the old, white people at Cingular that we all think is cool because it uses a product from the cool list (Borba Infused Cupcakes or Imogen Heaps). Then some kid on MySpace will see it and barf (or chunk up, which is how they say it today). But that's fine. I am serving my place in society. I accept my fate. Just as I'm not trying to be a 40 year-old right now, neither will I try to be a 20 year-old. Unlike the alternadads, I make my own list of cool these days rather than follow that of my children. And what's cool? That's right.

Pearl Jam.