Do we suck? That’s the question I was provoked to ask by Vanessa Sievers’ (’10) apology on Monday to the Grafton County Executive Committee.

Yes, Sievers did a pretty slack job for an elected official charged with managing, among other things, a $230,000 reserve fund and budgetary transactions in the millions of dollars, and yes, she skipped out on monthly meetings over conflicts with her “class schedule” and conducted a good part of her work over Blitz.

In other words, she treated her job as Grafton County Treasurer as if it were a second-rate board appointment at a third-rate COSO organization. The government and people of the county have cause to be pissed at her. But the question begs: would we, Sievers’ peers—hotshots, hard guyz, crème de la crème, all of us—have done things any differently?

From my lofty tower of detachment, I’ll concede that I don’t have all the facts in this matter. Please indulge me as what follows involves quite a bit of speculation. Most importantly, if this comes off as a personal indictment of Sievers herself, it is only to the extent that she belongs to a generation whose qualities might be worthy of scorn and declinist hand-wringing.

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I’ll concede that I’ve had some nasty things to say about the Baby Boomers. From their high school days to the present, the dopey, narcissistic “Me” generation ruined fashion, military service, American hegemony, and the financial system, and will continue to ruin things as they retire faster than immigrants or their children can replace them. I will never forgive them for it.

But what happens when the most culturally destructive generation in American history tries its hand at raising children of its own? Between 1980 and 1995, the Boomers fornicated with abandon (in their filthy, anarchic way) and produced an “Echo Boom,” also known as “Generation Y” or “the Milennials”—in short, us. The Boomers recognized the failures of their own unstructured, trouble-free upbringing and sought to make right in raising us. Recognition and reconciliation, right?  Kiss the boo-boo and American society will be all better again, ready and willing to free the slaves, fly to the Moon, and whoop the Nazis in round two.

In reality, their grand experiment in parenting culminated with the “helicopter mommy” and the “play date.” Our Boomer parents wanted us to excel at the sports they never played and master the instruments they never touched. When, despite all the TLC, we didn’t make the varsity tennis team or take first place at the state debate meet, they invented the “participation award” so we could still be the little winners they so dearly wanted, who would make amends for their years spent smoking weed behind the auto shop and sneaking into Grateful Dead concerts. How they longed that we would develop a healthy competitive spirit! But with their bleeding heart sensibilities, they couldn’t help but stop short of holding us to competitive standards.

Flash forward to 2010, with millions of Milennials in the work force and millions more waiting in the wings. How has it all turned out? Certainly the Boomers succeeded in imbuing us with potent ambitions. As a generation, more than any of our forbears, we strive for wealth, fame, power, and prestige. When our parents were this age, they thought these things were dirty. It’s probably good that we don’t. But that also doesn’t tell the whole story.

As citizens of an ever-more populous and increasingly global meritocracy, we Milennials must compete like never before to make that success happen. Look at Dartmouth: hence why “nobody rages anymore” and everyone compares SAT scores on their DOC trips. Hence the relentless anxiety over pledging an “A-side” house and landing that sweet banking job (is that so 2008?) post-graduation. 

We fanatically seek out opportunities to test our mettle against one another because we’re addicted to the accolades they confer. But isn’t that exactly the problem? We play these games because we expect the blue ribbon, the “A for effort” that comes with a job well done, not because we enjoy the thrill of the fight. Everything becomes a means to an end—an end we feel entitled to and aren’t above cheating to reach.

Think on it. How many of us got into Dartmouth by padding our resumes? Don’t blush if you feel guilty on that note, because the truth is, for all but a lucky few of us with superhuman talent or solid connections, we all did to some degree, however small. So you were elected secretary of the National Honor Society but didn’t do jack shit. Or maybe you were vice president of Operation Smile but missed most of the meetings. It’s alright—it was all worth it because you made it to Dartmouth where you’re free to be true to yourself and will flourish in due time in your own, beautiful way.

It’s not as if that sort of thing happens here. It’s not as if you joined DSIE because you thought it would improve your chances of winning that job at Goldman. It’s not as if you ran for County Treasurer because nobody else was in the primary and it looked like you’d be a shoe-in on Obama’s coattails and you’d be in charge of $18 million in County assets which would look great later when…and I’ve already said too much.

Employers report that those Milennials already in the workforce are hungry for rapid advancement and yearn for great autonomy and responsibility. At the same time, we’ve got a poor work ethic and an entitled attitude, we rely too heavily on technology to do our jobs for us, and—as Vanessa Sievers is learning the hard way—this irks our older superiors. 

And who can blame us? After all, the average American nowadays can expect to work six different careers in a lifetime. Who hasn’t known someone who’s taken a job out of school with the expectation of working there for two, three years, max, before fluttering off to bigger and better things? How many of us have the same kinds of plans? In many sectors nowadays—especially those where our kind tend to flock—this is the norm, the expectation. Where you get, and what you achieve while you’re there, is nothing more than propellant to burn on the way to your next destination. Why get that gelled hair all mussed up working one job when you’ll have a better one at a new company in a couple of years? Why skip class to attend those Executive Committee meetings? You already made IvyGate and The New York Times when you won the election—what more is there to be done?

This has been our generation’s game since we were children and we aren’t about to stop playing it. The problem is, as we leave the comfy, sheltered havens of the scholastic world for the real economy, many of us are finding that our skills as ladder-climbers aren’t translating into the kind of success we’ve enjoyed thus far as students. Maybe this is why we’re also acquiring a reputation as the “Peter Pan Generation,” delaying well into our late twenties the onset of adult roles and responsibilities and eschewing permanent careers in favor of grad school, sabbaticals, and volunteer work. Maybe we know damned well that when we finally make it to the next rung, there won’t be any gold stars or blue ribbons for participation waiting for us there, that our abilities alone will carry us to the next level—or nowhere at all. Maybe we’re terrified at the prospect of having to find success and satisfaction where we are rather than where we’re heading.

Maybe we’re just a bunch of irresponsible sycophants; a generation of careerist phonies with a knack for overselling ourselves but no real talent otherwise, a nomadic horde of marauders moving from high place to high place, pillaging money and prestige along the way and leaving only ruins behind.

Then again, maybe it’s just the economy.