If there were ever a more important time to network, I can’t remember it. I’ve been to so many going-away parties in the last few weeks that I’m starting to wonder what I’m still doing here. People who thought they’d played it professionally safe — bankers, lawyers, significant others of bankers and lawyers — are suddenly finding themselves among the nation’s growing jobless. And even those who remain gainfully employed are hoarding their cash, certain they’ll be the next to go.

So we young people do what any sane person would do: We spin the old mental Rolodex. We note all the people who don’t hate us and might be of some use. And then we send messages that read something like this:

Hey, Person I Need!

Long time no talk! How are you?! Sorry I haven’t written you in 17 years — boy have I been busy — but here’s some contrived anecdote to show I’ve been thinking about you. Thought you’d like to hear these few random things that are going on with me, too. Oh, by the way, I was thinking you could hire me/refer me/help me in some other way I’ve been generous enough to dream up for you. And since I’m sure you’re dying to read my resume, it’s attached. Totally can’t wait to catch up!

Sincerely,

Most Transparent Jobseeker Ever

If that sounds extreme, believe me, it’s not. I have, in fact, received a number of notes not unlike this myself in recent weeks. And for the record, it isn’t that I wouldn’t be happy to help if I could. It’s just that the approach is so completely disingenuous that it’s actually detrimental to the person’s cause. (And we Yers tend to be more prone to it because of our sometime lack of social graces, the quick and familiar way we communicate, and the broad if not deep virtual networks we’re able to maintain.)

As understandable — and essential — as the urge to work one’s connections is in times like these, there’s still an art to doing it. It’s rooted in basic common sense and good manners, and it applies in every situation, whether you’re sending an e-mail, Facebook message, smoke signal, singing telegram, or (gasp) letter. So, in the interest of maintaining our networking dignity, here are a couple suggestions for reaching out the right way…

1. Be honest — no, really. It’s important that any networking note we write contains the usual niceties (a “hope you’re doing well,” and some punctuation, for example), but don’t overdo it. When we try too hard to be all “great”s and giggles — especially in an attempt to obscure the fact that we want something — it usually has just the opposite effect. Not only does it draw attention to our self-serving motives, it can also be fairly insulting to the intelligence of the recipient. Why not, instead, try telling the truth? “I know it’s been a long time,” you might say, “but I recently started looking for a new job and, since you’re one of the people who’s offered help in that arena over the years, I thought I’d check in.” (And if the person’s a legitimate friend, a light-hearted nod to the awkwardness often diffuses any tension: “I’m so sorry you’re only hearing from me now, when I need you, but I hope you won’t hold it against me forever.”) It’s nothing revolutionary, but with trust in short supply these days, a little sincerity goes a very long way.
2. Ask for advice, not a gig. It’s never really proper to ask for a job outright unless you’re in an actual interview. But with the job market in the state it is, and everyone worried about their own job, it’s particularly poor form right now. Some people may not even respond to you if they feel pressured to produce a possible job or broker an introduction, so focus your energy on seeking out good advice, insights, and resources. If, for instance, there’s a job you’re interested in at an acquaintance’s company, write to ask what s/he thinks of the department, not to look for the hookup. This tack is flattering — after all, who doesn’t like the idea that their perspective might be valuable? — and it puts you in the positive light of a potential protégé or close colleague, someone that your contact may think of (fondly, and maybe even first) should a job prospect arise. This way, if they have a post or person to share with you, they can do so on their own terms. And if all they have to give you is a few words of wisdom, at least they know that’s worthwhile to you, too.
3. Do not attach your resume. And for that matter, don’t attach any other representations of your wonderfulness that are likely to lock up people’s inboxes, even if you’re sure they like you. Not only can it seem presumptuous, it also looks a bit desperate. Even if you’re posting to a group of friends about your job search, it’s much more effective (not to mention safer) to just include a few sentences about what you’re looking for and what you’ve done, rather than giving them your entire work history, which they’re not likely to read anyway. As a rule, re-establish contact first, then ply with documents.
4. Facebook doesn’t change anything. In our age of social networking, it can be tempting to use the relaxed attitude of tools like Facebook to take the work out of networking. It’s so easy now to just “friend” a person you haven’t talked to in years — without so much as a, “Remember me from high school?” — then hit them with the old, “I really love your company, so…” But take it from me, that isn’t going to be received any better by a Facebook friend than it would be by anyone else. Even on the Web, people know when they’re being used, and they don’t like it. So apply the same amount of courtesy and concern there as you would everywhere else.
5. Show a little gratitude. Remember that everyone, from the C-suite all the way down, is under pressure right now. So thank them for their time, and if they make an effort to respond, even if they don’t say much, realize it means something — and say so. Not just because it’s the right thing to do, but because it fosters a continuing relationship. We’re so connected, and it’s so easy to maintain those connections in today’s world, that there really is no excuse not to build and nurture as many substantive relationships as you can. (And just to be clear, by substantive, I don’t mean poking and gifting, but actual communication, like with words.) That may seem like a big investment of time for not very much immediate return — and goodness knows many of us really need the return at the moment — but trust me, you just never know.

It seems so obvious to write about President Barack Obama right now, whether you’re a fan or not, that I think I’ve been avoiding doing it. I was in Washington, D.C., on Inauguration Day. I saw the camaraderie of the crowds. I watched in amusement as CVS clerks and CPK waiters tried their best to cope. I hummed along as Wyclef Jean sang a sweet but less than Grammy-worthy freestyle presidential tribute. I applauded the honesty of the Inaugural address, I held my breath as the new President got out of the car, and I thanked goodness that no one had gone tiger, in the words of the immortal Chris Rock, in this capitol circus. And as the first blush of love faded — confirmation hearings will do that to any relationship — and the real work of rebuilding began, I hoped that the young people who’d been so energized by “Yes We Can” wouldn’t be enervated by “Yes We Did That Already, And Now We Have To Do All The Other Way Tougher Stuff For Which There Will Be No Uplifting Slogans.”

Then Superbowl Sunday came around, and President Obama — chatting with Matt Lauer and smiling that easy smile of his — put my fears to rest. As my friend put it, “It’s kind of amazing to have a President who can say ’shoutout’ credibly.” Don’t get me wrong: His vetting game is clearly far from airtight, and I, unlike him, have never been a huge fan of Steeler football. But what stood out about the President that day — and more recently, when he admitted he “screwed up” with the Tom Daschle nomination, and even when he called Wall Street bonuses “shameful” last week — is that he can and will talk to us, about subjects heavy and light, and in a voice we can both relate to and respect. (After all, his shoutout wasn’t to his boys back home; it was to the troops.) It may be calculated — and it probably is — but I for one appreciate a little strategic thinking in my politicians. And if they use it to keep me in the loop, all the better.

What may be even more striking, though, is Obama’s seeming desire to behave both like what I imagine a President ought to be and like the nice, cool, more or less sincere young man about campus I’m always hoping the President was at some long lost time in his life. It’s no small feat to be both youthful and presidential, and it’s even harder when you’re admitting mistakes and promising fixes. But what it communicates, whether the President means to or not, is that — for the generation of young people who will call Obama a role model — you really can do it your way. Yes, we all have to be accountable and work hard, for instance. But who’s going to have to work harder or be more accountable than Obama will? And if he can still tell jokes and enjoy a good game while he’s doing it, well, maybe we can, too.

All of this — the dialogue, the insight, even the inspiration of a grown-up guy with just about the hardest job around laughing like he means it — fosters an inclusiveness that is ultimately more empowering for young people at this moment than “Yes We Can” could ever be. Because now we are part of a conversation that’s happening not on the fringes, but in the most hallowed halls of power. And we’re talking to a man who, whatever you think of his politics, seems willing to listen.

Every time I watch a confirmation hearing or hear talk of a stimulus plan or find out about yet another inauguration to-do, I can’t help but think about how much work there actually is to do.

This, I’m told, is a very Gen Y impulse, the product of being young, sleep-deprived, and raised on Mr. Rogers, who told us we really could do whatever we liked. But I think it probably has more to do with getting older, and coming to grips with what exactly our future might hold. Sure, we’ve got the Wii, and HDTV, and Google, but those only go so far when you’re unemployed, drowning in debt and lamenting the plight of the polar bear.

It’s a topsy-turvy world out there, and while every generation has experienced some of that, the real grown-ups in my life say that feeling does seem more pervasive than ever, reaching into just about every aspect of life – from foreign policy to the domestic struggles of young vets, from student loans to the greatest economic instability since the Depression, from joblessness at home to the perils (human rights, environmental and otherwise) of globalization abroad. Or maybe we just hear about it more.

Regardless, I know this worldview might appear a tad extreme, so in the spirit of sharing, I thought I’d give you a little insight into what I saw and heard this week to put me in such a lovely frame of mind - a small snapshot of one Y perspective.

5 signs of the apocalypse, and why they made me think of you…

1. Gold might as well be fur. Last night, I told my boyfriend I’m off gold. I’m not that flash to begin with – and I’ve been off diamonds for a while for obvious reasons – but after reading National Geographic’s January cover story, “Gold: The True Cost of a Global Obsession,” I couldn’t believe I hadn’t already known to eschew gold. “For all of its allure, gold’s human and environmental toll has never been so steep,” author Brook Larmer writes. At this rate, I’m going to have to take up an ascetic lifestyle. I already had to stop eating shrimp. My sister’s even done with Coca-Cola. And if anyone ever marries me, it’ll probably be without a ring (and not because I’m easygoing). It’s easy to dismiss as a whole lot of fanatacism, but with the amount and visibility of information that’s out there, we’re going to learn some things we don’t like. Ignoring them won’t make them go away. On the contrary, we should be grateful we do know, and doing our best to act on that knowledge when we can.
2. Everyone owes $50k! According to a financial aid counselor at a well-known Washington, D.C., university who my siblings chatted up last week, $50,000 to $60,000 in educational debt from undergrad is just about expected these days for her institution and schools of its caliber. There’s so much to say about that, and yet, no need to say anything at all. Because, as the College Board says, educational debt is an investment in your future, and a bachelor’s degree is all but essential these days just to be competitive (someone with a B.A. will earn $800,000 more than someone with a high school diploma over a lifetime), so young people hardly have a choice. But that doesn’t make it any less shameful.
3. Kids use Facebook for (not annoying) good. Believe it or not, and whatever you might think of the situation in the Middle East, I found the following rather encouraging: The 14-year-old daughter of close family friends recently updated her Facebook status – which people use to say everything from “Joey is ‘eating spaghetti,’” to, “Sarah is ’so, so, so excited to be engaged!’” – to read, “R. is ‘702 Palestinians murdered by Israel in Gaza (more than 230 children & 100 women) & 3100 injured. Donate your status.’” Now this is a little girl I’ve known since she was a baby, and whose young adulthood I’m so in denial about that I assiduously avoid her Facebook page, lest I find anything I don’t want to know. And Facebook is running out of ways to surprise me. But unlike the 101 groups for this or that cause, or messages from people actively proselytizing, this just had an earnest, honest, youthful sincerity to it that grabbed me. And  how nice to find that on Facebook.
   
4. The government hates animals. New York’s Governor David A. Patterson has proposed “an immediate 55 percent cut and elimination of zoo and botanical garden funds altogether in 2010,” writes Andrew C. Revkin on the New York Times’ Dot Earth blog. All right, I get it — the state’s in trouble, and the $5 million it’ll save by slashing the zoo’s funding will no doubt go a long way in stabilizing things. Doom a hedgehog, feed an investment banker, and all that. But really, how sad. It isn’t enough that we’re destroying natural habitats all over the world, now we have to target the artificial ones we’ve created to shelter the few animals who might survive us. What difference does it make if my kids never get to see a red panda or Bengal tiger? (Never mind the American pika, a cute-as-a-button rabbit relative that’s on its way to becoming the second animal to join the endangered species list because of global warming, behind the polar bear. NatGeo can be such a downer.) Sheesh. The Wildlife Conservation Society’s pithy but pointed video response to the budget cuts is perfect. I hope someone listens.
5. And I love my Mom, but what about the elderly? And in what could have been my own personal apocalypse, on New Year’s Eve, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. And last week, she had surgery to remove it. It’ll be a few months of recovery ahead, but the way she handled it – bouncing right back better and bossier than ever – reminded me of that Boomer resilience that some say (and I hope) we’ve inherited. But it also underscored how important excellent health care is: While watching doctors dote on my mom was a relief, I couldn’t help but think about all the people who don’t have that, not just all over the world, but right here at home. And while nine million uninsured children is a disgrace, our aging population will be larger than ever in the coming years – because of both the number of Boomers, and their lengthening life span – and adequate health care will be essential for them. Not meeting those needs would be a disgrace, too.

So that’s what I’ve been thinking about, guys. What does it all mean? I don’t know yet, except that there’s a long road of recovery and rebuilding ahead for us, too. Have I fallen off the maudlin cliff, or do you feel it, too?

So it’s a new year, and in the interest of all of us getting/staying employed in 2009, I thought I’d share some news about a recent beta launch that promises to help. It’s called Gotta Mentor, and yes, it is a social networking tool of sorts. Given my very public paranoia about how hokily-titled networking sites are diluting our real connections, you can imagine my skepticism. But where Facebook and MySpace are more or less for keeping up with friends, and LinkedIn is a sort of professional contacts list, Gotta Mentor is about engaging a small group of individuals who are focused exclusively on assisting you in developing your career, according to president and co-founder Ronald Mitchell.

Technology’s already been at work in the mentoring world, but as any mentee who’s suffered through a chemistry-free mentoring lunch can tell you, it’s mostly been to create huge databases of random facts that are about as good for matching people as personals ads. And that tends to make structured mentoring programs hugely unsatisfying. So it’s no surprise that the question Mitchell gets most is, “Why would people want to mentor?”

“The answer is simple,” he says. “Most people already do mentor. We believe that people want to give guidance and support to others. They just don’t want to give it to everyone. They want to invest their time in people they have an affinity with.” So in addition to facilitating mentoring relationships for people who already know each other, Gotta Mentor’s MentorMatch makes it easy to find a match based on what you already share—whether it’s family, college, a sorority, a sport, ethnicity, gender, employer, or all of the above.

Professionals from finance, consulting, marketing, education and other areas are already signed up, along with students from such schools as Yale, Harvard Business School, and the University of Pennsylvania. (The service is open to people at all levels, though.) And while their common experiences are great for engagement, Gotta Mentor doesn’t rely on that alone. In addition to resources such as personalized career coaching and searchable career development advice, Gotta Mentor formalizes its mentoring relationships: Mentors agree to a timeline, and advisees must share their career goals and expectations just to be connected. “We would rather you engage five people more substantively around your career than connect to 500,” Mitchell says.

To be frank, I’ll have to see it to believe it. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t state the obvious: The best mentors are the people who teach you over a lifetime of talking, thinking, and living, not necessarily the ones who give you a killer online resume review. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t room for Gotta Mentor’s brand of career guidance, too, or that relationships built in this sort of online community can’t translate elsewhere.

And streamlining the less organic parts of the mentoring experience certainly has its appeal, especially considering how embarrassing it can be for all parties concerned when someone levels the dreaded, “Will you be my mentor?” So I’m willing to give Gotta Mentor the benefit of the doubt. Because it just might work — and because I learned my lesson a few years ago: I had a similarly suspicious initial reaction to fellow Gotta Mentor co-founder John Rice’s education nonprofit, Management Leadership for Tomorrow, when I wrote about it in 2006. At first look, MLT — which aimed to get more diverse students into top MBA programs and beyond—seemed like yet another well-intentioned, but far too optimistic organization. But by the time I’d finished meeting some of its obsessed staffers, gushing Fortune 500 sponsors, and actual students who were now headed to Top 10 schools — it was clear Rice had proved me wrong. Just in case he’s done it again, give Gotta Mentor a look — and as always, let us know what you think.

Just when I think the Gen Y conversation’s gone stale, a new theme emerges that proves me wrong, and this year, it was a social one. But perhaps not the one you’d expect: It wasn’t social responsibility, or even social networking, but (our lack of) social connection, and by extension, aptitude. If it seems I’ve been harping on this a bit (witness “Making true connections in a Facebook world”), I have — because this might be the area where we have the most to learn, and the most to lose if we don’t learn it.

What better time to start those lessons, then, than right now, as many of us head home to family and holiday parties galore this December, situations that often traditionally elicit at least as much dread and drinking as goodwill? So this December, I vote we actually (gasp) talk to people, and (double–gasp) mean it. As New Year’s resolutions go, it’s a basic one, I know. But after all my cheerleading and translating for our cohort, I’ve also learned a few things about where we fall down. And making substantive connections, whether they’re on or off the web, is increasingly becoming one of those places, especially if what I’ve been hearing from you all is any indication.

Consider Hannah Seligson’s November New York Times story, “For Help Finding a Job, Friends in Low Places.” Hannah, a Gen Y author I met when I wrote about her book last year, told me I might be the “contrarian” voice in her piece, which explored Yers’ efforts to utilize their peer network — instead of, say, their parents’ friends — to find job opportunities. Hardly in a rush to read my curmudgeonly comments, I waited a while to read the story.

And then an odd thing happened: I started to get e-mails and calls from people (my own younger sister included) thanking me for being honest and realistic about what one Yer might have to offer another, especially over something like Facebook. “It’s very easy to just send out a friend request,” I’d told Hannah, “but when you are looking for jobs, you want to make sure your peer network is comprised of people who can speak to your qualities, not just vouch for you as a friend on Facebook.” It certainly wasn’t revolutionary, but it resonated, likely because — like me — many of you are finding yourselves drawing that new distinction between Facebook friends and real ones, too. And let’s just say Facebook friends don’t always make great references, mentors, or, well, friends.

So in the interest of having real relationships, let’s treat every connection we make from now on as sincerely as possible. And let’s keep the connections we already have from going generic. That friend you only see on IM? Drag him or her out to lunch. If you’re home this break, take the time to catch up with old friends in person, rather than updating them via Facebook status (or relying on that most formidable of networks, the Former PTA Moms Phone Tree).

Or if you run into someone you haven’t seen in a while on Facebook, take the time to write a quick note instead of sending a blank friend request. This makes you a person, instead of a profile your would-be friend has to poke around in till s/he remembers who you are and confirms that you aren’t insane. (And this goes double for people you don’t know, but would like to; they’ll be much more likely to respond to an “I love your work!” than nothing at all.)

Even when it comes to folks who’ve made themselves available as part of your university alumni network or company mentoring program, reach out to them first as an individual and second as an opportunity. And always do it with some humility and gratitude. After all, there’s a huge difference between an e-mail that says, “You’re in a field I love, and I’d really appreciate a bit of advice,” and one that says, “Here are the three jobs I’d like at your company, and my resume’s attached.” (Both of which I’ve gotten, by the way.)

The moral of the story: Use all the tools available to you, but use them to build relationships, not just networks, social or otherwise. A Boomer parent/executive stopped to chat with me recently about the seeming contradiction between Gen Yers’ affinity for technology and our need for interpersonal connection, and as we wrestled with it, he said something that stuck with me: “The technology is actually getting us back to where we used to be.” A few generations ago, one’s hometown alone offered a lifetime’s worth of deep connections. In today’s sprawling, mobile, hyperactive world, not so much. And while technology’s helping us to (re)create some of that community online, we’re still a long way from replicating the lasting bonds that used to form naturally in our neighborhoods and help shape us into the people we were supposed to become.

Good news is, those bonds still do exist in the real world. So, as a present to ourselves and everyone who’ll ever have to know us, let’s go get them back.

As stressful as the last few weeks have been to anyone with a pulse and a 401(k), nothing’s been quite so disturbing to me as the inordinate number of times I’ve been asked, “With the economy the way it is now, will Gen Y stop being so demanding?” It may sound innocuous at first, but once you’ve heard the line a few times, it quickly becomes clear that what it really means is, “Now that you don’t have any choice, will you finally stop forcing us to do right by you and just settle like everyone else, for crying out loud?”

Well, thanks, folks. Good to know that, in all this turmoil, the silver lining for some people is the potentially broken Gen Y spirit.

But don’t start celebrating just yet. As a high-profile Los Angeles businesswoman told me last week, what said schadenfreuders don’t realize is that the outcome of the financial crisis may not be a defeated Gen Y, but a more determined one — determined, that is, to follow fulfilling work. “There won’t be any trust in companies,” she said. And the fact of the matter is, without that trust, corporate America becomes even less attractive to standout young employees than it was before the recession hit. The security that a Lehman Brothers or Merrill Lynch business card used to mean — never mind the cachet that they carried — began to evaporate as even those peers who chose the “stable” path of, say, financial services found themselves jobless. And as the list of the white-collar unemployed grows longer every day, it’s beginning to look like they’re gone for good.

Believe it or not, a paycheck doesn’t necessarily make up for all that. True, it may get a few young candidates in the door. It may even get them to stay a little while. But as today’s far more footloose Yers wait longer for spouses, kids, and mortgages — the trifecta of entrapment for the company men of generations past — they’ll be harder to corner. Every time they get a paycheck, they’ll be wondering if it’s their last. And they will always resent a company that uses that paycheck as a shackle — not to mention as an excuse not to improve the myriad other aspects of worklife — rather than as a reward for a job well done. So much so that the moment something better appears– whether it’s an NGO in Bangladesh, their own small business, or a plain old better job as the economy stabilizes — they will be out like The Flash.

So what’s a company do? (Besides advise managers not to hope for a generation of employees cowed by financial instability, of course.) It’s simple: See this time as an opportunity, not to snare young candidates while they’re down, but to distinguish your organization as one that can shine in difficult times and, as a result, attract and retain the very best employees. Yers are all about partnership, so talk to them about the challenges your company’s facing, and use those challenges to build that stirring startup energy that gets young hearts beating. And even when layoffs are a must, do them humanely, so all your employees can stay and go with dignity (and without saying mean but true things about you on every blog this side of Gawker).

As a Washington utility executive reminded me recently, Shakespeare wrote, “Sweet are the uses of adversity.” We Gen Yers are learning that, I think. Let’s see if the people in charge can, too.

Author and workplace expert Tamara Erickson — someone many of you longtime Gig readers will remember from posts such as “Job-hopping Gen Yers aren’t disloyal. They’re smart,” and “Money v. meaningful work, the battle continues” — has a new book out, and since she’s been such a source of good advice, we thought we’d give you a sneak peek. 

Plugged In: The Generation Y Guide to Thriving at Work focuses on Yers’ advantages — our fresh perspective, motivation, and willingness to take risks — and offers some guidance to help Yers fully connect to their colleagues and engage in the changing work world. In the following excerpt, Tammy introduces the “career curve” framework, one she says can help Yers identify the best job and career path to meet their work and life needs. 

What shape will your career take? The line of your career is not an even progression. The amount of time, the intensity of your involvement with the work, the pulls of family, and many other concerns all influence the shape at any given moment of that path — what I call the career curve.

The career curve framework guides you in thinking about the practical reality of what will work for you. How much money do you consider enough (or need so that you can pay off the debt that you are carrying from school loans)? How much time would you like to devote to work? What role would you like it to play in the mosaic of your life’s other activities?

Older adults have tended to think about one career curve. It used to be that the progression of a career meant a steady rise at one workplace through the years, and then a sharp and abrupt end — rather like falling off a cliff — when workers retired. That pattern is being replaced, by and large, by more of a bell curve: entry-level, full involvement and advancement, and then a winding down or deceleration phase as workers transition out of work. Gen Y’s, however, should be thinking of multiple curves. Quite likely, you will have ups, downs, and do-overs. For you, the career curve framework might better be called career carillon, because the line of your career is likely to resemble a series of bell curves.

As you think about different options for your career curve(s), consider these issues:

• Time: What other priorities do you have for your life? How much time would you like to devote to work? On the surface, this question is probably the most straightforward of all the considerations, although it’s also one of the most dependent on other choices you make. To a large extent, the amount of time you choose to devote to various activities, including work, will end up depending on how much you enjoy each one relative to the others. Nonetheless, it’s important to consider that, realistically, some careers are far more time-consuming than others.

• Rhythm: Lots of people say they’d like more flexibility in their work arrangements, but what would that really mean for you? How much spontaneity or predictability do you need to accomplish the other priorities in your life? Do you anticipate having other activities that are highly regular (for example, training for an athletic event that could be conducted at the same time every day), or are your other priorities more likely to be spontaneous (for example, going on an impromptu trip)? Would working four long days every week — the same four days — be more appealing to you, or would you rather work in episodic bursts? Various career choices allow very different rhythms.

• Economic reality: Get out your pencil or spreadsheet. It’s time to set some approximate financial goals. How much money do you need at this stage of your life? What standard of living will be comfortable for you? This is not a book about financial planning — there are plenty of those — but I encourage you to do some now. Be sure to take into account not only living expenses but also money required to pay off any student loans and to save for dreams you may have for the future. Consider the amount of help that you can realistically expect from your parents and family. Having a rough sense of your economic requirements will shape the choices that make sense.

• Challenge: Consider the extent to which you do want (or don’t want) to take on difficult or challenging roles at this point, including the level of commitment you would be willing to make to learn new skill and capabilities. How new and how difficult do you want your future work to be?

• Responsibility: Responsibility is a measure of the interdependence of your work with that of others. How willing are you to take on roles, including managerial tasks, that directly affect others? Are you comfortable having others depend on you? Are you willing to have people look to you for leadership or direction?

These questions help you shape the tangible reality of the work you prefer. Time and money may not be all that counts, but they are an important reality to factor in as you search for your passion.

Reprinted by permission of Harvard Business Press.  Adapted from Plugged In: The Generation Y Guide to Thriving at Work by Tamara Erickson.  Copyright 2008 Tamara J. Erickson.  All rights reserved. 

What a day, right? I’m on my way to vote and, frankly, I look a little crazy because I’m so excited that I hardly slept a wink. And it isn’t difficult to see why. So much of the Gen Y discussion we’ve had over the last year or two has been about our entitlement, our coddled youth, our lack of accountability, perspective, and work ethic. Our generation, I’ve been told so many times, hasn’t really been through anything. (Sure, there was 9/11, but could that one day compare to  prolonged coming-of-age crises like Vietnam or the Great Depression?)

Well, I think it’s about time we put that argument to rest. Maybe two wars and $4-a-gallon gas this summer weren’t enough to get us the generational street cred, but surely the last few months have finally elevated us to that highest echelon of suffering. As Thomas Friedman put it in his column on Monday, “Never has one generation [i.e., them] spent so much of its children’s [i.e., us] wealth in such a short period of time with so little to show for it as in the Bush years.” Thanks, Mom and Dad.

And for the record, it’s only just beginning. Whatever entitlement we have exhibited will, I think, be quickly quashed by the rapidly approaching obligations of our future. Not only will it cost far more (and be much more necessary, given the competitive landscape) to put our kids through college and beyond, we will also be caring for parents who are living longer and saving less, often because of the circumstances they’ve faced, like layoffs, rising healthcare costs, and of course, the high price of raising us.

All that to say, please, for the love of goodness, go vote. Whatever the immediate stakes for our country, the long-term significance of this day for us simply can’t be overstated. When sociologists look back at the formative moments of our lifetime, will 2008 be the year whose financial crisis began all our troubles, or the one whose election set the tone for our country’s recovery? Every election, there’s big talk of the youth vote, and just about every election, it amounts to a big pile of hype. (Howard Dean, anyone?) So this year, think of it as a life vote. Whatever your views, whomever you support, you actually do have a chance to shape the rest of our collective life today. Take it. Or don’t — and your friends (and I!) will hold you personally responsible for every calamity that befalls us forever more.

I saw snow for the first time this season last week. I was on a train from Philadelphia back to New York and — after spending the night listening to Phillies fans in the streets and waking up at 6 a.m. to spend the stormy morning on a Gen Y panel – I was exhausted. But when I looked up from my book (Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere) to the snow swirling against the rust and mustard of autumn trees and a winter-gray sky, it gave me a little rush of joy.

While it certainly meant the onset of winter and, as we say in my family, a *suckster* commute, it mostly reminded me of being a kid. Those of you from comparable climes will know what I’m talking about: waking up to white everywhere, waiting with bated breath for the local radio or TV guys to confirm school was canceled, and clambering into your snow-day finest to go act a (frozen) fool outside with your friends.

But as lovely as that memory was, it also made me think of a conversation I’d had with one of the panel attendees that morning. A thirtysomething father of three living in the Philly area, he came up after the talk to ask what I thought the youngest Yers would be like as they grew up. But before I could get a word in, he started talking about his own kids. I’m going to kick them off the games and the phone and send them outside, he said. “None of that.”

And then he told me about his three-year-old, who had been wreaking barefoot havoc on his tricycle on the curb recently, and attracted a neighbor’s concerned attention. “He comes running across the street,” the Xer dad told me, laughing, “meanwhile his 12-year-old is wearing a helmet on his Razor scooter in the driveway. He said we just have different parenting styles.” And while coddling parents worried this Xer, something else really stressed him out: A friend complained recently that his 16-year-old had sent 11,000 text messages in one month – “My wife and I calculated,” he practically yelled, “that’s 366 a day!”

When people ask me what I think will be Yers’ challenges moving forward, I often cite technology. And not because of the technology itself, but because of all it enables. Parents now have to work to get their kids out of the house, instead of working to get them in, the way our moms used to at dinnertime. And as much as tools like texting and Facebook have made it possible for us to maintain more “friendships” than ever, I’d argue that those same technologies have made it more difficult to cultivate the few close relationships that shape every person over a lifetime. There’s something about actually being together, talking all night, and even getting in fights that can’t be replicated on a laptop or iPhone — and that’s essential to being a person, never mind a success.

After all, how can you lead or manage if you’ve never learned to really, substantively, fundamentally connect to other people, in the truest sense of the word? And let’s be honest, you can’t do much of that and send 366 texts a day. (Which, incidentally, speaks to something else I’ve been getting angst-mail about lately: Mom and Dad, take your grown kids off your cellphone plan! Sheesh.)

It’s nothing that’ll be solved in a day, and maybe some of it is nostalgia for a simpler, less wired past. (Hah.) But I’m already hearing some working Yers say that they’ve started carving out downtime from all the pinging and buzzing in an effort to stay sane and centered. As it stands, we’re at that moment when — with so many new and exciting tools and not much sense of what their long-term effect will be — we’re more or less letting it all run wild. But that can hardly go on forever, and I can’t imagine it’ll be too long before we reach an equilibrium where we can exploit the great aspects of these tools without falling victim to the more problematic ones.

That occurred to me, too, on that train: Sitting in the “quiet car” on the Acela — where the woman next to me actively shushed other people on the train, pointing imperiously to the “Quiet Car” sign above — I was struck by how annoying the endless click-clacking of BlackBerrys and laptops became, and how much I missed the low hum of, you know, people that used to make travel fun and interesting for me. But perhaps most disturbing was that I succumbed to it myself, curled up in my book like some sort of sad sleeping snail passing time till more favorable conditions emerged. And that’s why it was so nice to look up, surprised, and be reminded that there’s a world out there, and I used to – and should – enjoy it.

It was a strange day on 50th St. yesterday. And for more prosaic reasons than you might think. For the last four years, my walk to the office from our subway stop has gone more or less like this: I stop at the crosswalk in front of the Lehman Brothers building. I marvel at the incredible weirdness of the giant screens on its exterior playing video of a Lehman logo floating across nature scenes. I cross, look up, and laugh about the line of young men’s backs in that oh-so-familiar pale Wall Street blue leaning on a window ledge a few floors up in some regular morning meeting. And I arrive at the doors of the old Time & Life building, happy on my funky writer’s proverbial high horse.

But yesterday, when I got to our block, the Lehman building’s screens all said Barclays. The mountains and sky tape had been replaced by a static cerulean background. And who would’ve guessed — I felt a little pang of sadness. The woman in front of me on the sidewalk stopped to take a picture of the new look, and I couldn’t help but notice that, against all sense and precedent, I was nostalgic for Lehman and that lame loop.

Whatever you think of what’s happened over the last 10 days or so, it sure has been a reality check. And while everyone’s been affected, I think we Yers have gotten it even more from all sides. There is, of course, the crisis itself, which underscores so much of the discussion we’ve had on The Gig concerning Yers’ skittishness about corporate America. (Remember “Job-hopping Gen Yers aren’t disloyal. They’re smart”? But well before things got into $700 billion bailout territory, the broader distrustful youth story was already shaping up, and each day seemed to bring an event more shocking than the last. First, there was the obvious hook — the 9/11 anniversary — something that’s been so formative for our cohort and whose impact doesn’t seem to have dimmed much. I’d scarcely started planning that post before news hit of David Foster Wallace’ssuicide, and while he clearly wasn’t a Yer, the voice of Xer disaffection was well loved by many of my friends, and his death seemed to make us all take a step back and reevaluate in a way that other losses haven’t.

All of which might have been worth discussing, until 10 seconds later, when the headlines about Lehman and Merrill Lynch got hysterical. By the time I headed out last Monday morning for a quick business trip to Southern California, I was cringing in fear every time I turned on the TV or got on the Web. And just in case the big picture was too far removed, there were all sorts of more personal reminders, like the cab driver on the way to JFK who told me about a young man he’d dropped off early that Monday — the kid had just gotten married on Sunday, was heading to Greece for his honeymoon Monday afternoon, and on the morning he should’ve been basking in the newlywed glow, he was heading to Lehman to pack up his office and trying not to think about what he’d be coming home to in a few weeks.

Who could blame us for being afraid? And let’s be honest, given recent events, obviously our wariness isn’t exactly unjustified. It used to be that going to a company like Lehman was the “stable” path, and just look where those folks are now. (Not to mention where they will be; as career management consultant Paul Bernard told CNNMoney, “Only 20% to 25% of Lehman employees will eventually land Wall Street jobs. There are just not that many jobs.”)

And while the big bailout may save the hour, all the current flailing just keeps reminding me of something many of you have heard over and over already — that we will be the first generation in recent American history to be economically worse off than our parents. Perhaps, in the past, I understood this intellectually, but it’s a reality now — and one so stark it sort of explains Yers’ collective neurosis. Whatever the course correction, however successful, it seems we — and that means everyone, but especially Yers — are in for it.

Because, in case you didn’t know already, we’re in all kinds of debt, our parents have no real savings, and by the time we have kids, well, a decent kindergarten could cost as much as college did for us — all points that led my friend and editor to write in an e-mail, “Boy, are you guys wimps!” Easy for him to say; he’s the boss, and old enough to tell stories about walking uphill both ways to school barefoot in the snow. So while, to him, I know even talking about the situation in which we find ourselves sounds like whining, I think that’s mostly because it’s such a debacle that any discussion would sound a bit whiny. And hey, when you consider what the previous generation’s mistakes could cost us in the long run, I think we’re entitled to some complaining.

There is an upside, though, and it too fits into the Yer philosophy — but on the optimistic, rebellious, save-the-world side. Roger Cohen touched on it last week in his New York Times column, “The King Is Dead”. ”When I taught a journalism course at Princeton a couple of years ago,” he writes, “I was captivated by the bright, curious minds in my class. But when I asked students what they wanted to do, the overwhelming answer was: ‘Oh, I guess I’ll end up in i-banking.’ It was not that they loved investment banking…it was the money and the fact everyone else was doing it.” Not so much anymore. And while I am going to miss the morning love affair Lehman and I had, if a small shift in the narrow thinking Cohen criticizes is what comes out of all this for us, I think I can live with that. Now we just have to start saving for (our parents’!) retirement.