The Frustrated CFO

The Frustrated CFO on Ozempic®: Segment 1

If you, the reader, ever decide to delve into my crime memoir I Built This Prison,  you will find out (fairly quickly too, I must say, as I go into the whole "fat pig" thing as early as page 12 and then really expound on the matter in chapter 4 - Bucket of Tears... and Blood)  that I have been struggling with my weight since my toddler years... Nearly six decades now, dammit!

Pear-shaped, as the Nature supposedly intended, plus the squatty stature, plus the slowest metabolism in the history of the universe, plus the propensity for depressive eating... Dieting, severe dieting, extreme dieting... No fats, then no carbs...Atkins in my 30s for so long - I'm still working the accumulated cholesterol off with pills... Counting calories, like forever... Still voluptuous even in the thinnest of times... Then eating everything in sight for days, weeks, months, years... Terrible self-hatred and low self-esteem... Couldn't even blame it all on genetics - no one else in the family ever got THAT fat... A lifetime of endlessly galloping that vicious circle - both vicious and circular - with no escape...

And I'm not making national news here by telling you that with age, not only losing, but even just keeping the weight off becomes a virtually impossible ordeal for pretty much everyone. (Except maybe for Calista Flockhart, or Lara Flynn Boyle, or Meredith Grey... Sorry, I mean Ellen Pompeo.) It's not just the loss of the lean muscles and the further deceleration of the metabolism either. Nowadays, getting older comes with more uncertainties, more stress, more anxiety, more depression - hence, higher levels of cortisol. And it's no joke: even with my notoriously ravenous appetite, it used to be so much easier for me to stay hungry. At 20, I was able to do a seven-day water cleanse... I can't even think about it now. Seriously: as years went by, fighting off hunger got progressively harder and harder.   

Unless, of course, you are forcefully placed under the special conditions of deprivation... In nearly three years of my imprisonment, which happened to stretch between the 57th and the 60th years of my life, I ended up losing 70 lb. After 16 months of being out on bail and battling my criminal-proceedings anxieties with some pretty grotesque overeating, I went in as a blob of fat size 24, but came out as a yoga-practicing size 14.

Don't get horrified (Why would you? But just in case.), thinking that NYS DOCCS starves people in prison. They don't. Well, the food is pretty awful (it's prison food - there is a special section about it in Part III of I Built This Prison called Our Daily Bread and State Mandated Waste); and its level of nutrients ranges from low to nonexistent; and the last meal of the day they serve you is the 5:30 pm dinner, which technically imposes 14 hours of intermittent  fasting during the most difficult hours - in the evening, after work/school/programs... Nevertheless, I totally could've (and many do) gained, not lost, 70 lb.: people get packages full of carbs with long shelf life; buy a lot of bread, pancake mix, pasta, and boxes of Little Debbie treats at the commissary, thus mitigating incarceration with indulgence...

But I didn't: I didn't get food packages and I had strict rules about my commissary buys: mixed-greens salad pouches were the highest priority, then whatever proteins I could get within the imposed limits... Little Debbie was classified into the same mortal-enemy territory as the most antisemitic of correctional officers... I think the psychological reality of the Bill's of Rights loss as a punishment for my crime helped me to be as vigilant with my diet as I used to be very long time ago -  during the periods of intense romance in my youth.

Plus, I was made to walk everywhere - pretty long stretches on a large campus sprawled over the cheap land of Western New York. While writing I Built This Prison, I used Google Earth to calculate the distances I actually covered on an average prison day: it came to 3 miles... Just imagine - if you walk on your treadmill at a brisk pace of 3 miles per hour, it would take 1 whole hour to match that effort.

Stay on that regiment for 3 years (not 3 weeks or 3 months) and you get the 10-sizes body reduction... Then I came back into the "free" life...

I'm not going to keep you (oh, the hopeful me!) in suspense: 18 months later I was back at my pre-prison weight! Who does that?!!! And yes, I overindulged at the beginning... NYC and its limitless options, you know... I forced myself to never think about it while I was behind the barbwire and 370 miles away... But when it's right in front of you and most of it is literally at your fingertips inside your iPhone? For a life-long epicure like myself? After prison?...

...I don't know about you, but I loved all of David E. Kelly's Law-in-Boston shows, including The Practice. (I don't think it can possibly be qualified as a "spoiler" 22 years after its airing, so I'm not going to apologize for it): Season 7 finds one of the main characters, Lindsay Dole (Kelli Williams), in prison, serving a life sentence after being found guilty of a first-degree murder. Her husband Bobby (Dylan McDermott) comes for a visit and brings her a burger... Watching her devouring it within seconds, he marvels, "I've never seen anybody eating a burger this fast..." And she goes, "I'll talk to you after you go to prison..." Or something to that effect - I'm not going to look for the exact quote... But you get what I'm talking about, right?...

So, as fat as fat can be - again! Weighing as much as my daughter and son-in-law together. Granted, they are skinny people. Still, two humans... I despaired, then got a grip, and embarked on the same course of actions I've always employed under similar circumstances in the past: stopped cheating with the calories counting and faithfully limited them to the maximum of 1,250 per day Sunday through Friday with a 1,500 allowance for the relaxation Saturday; got back on the rowing machine, and even bought a walking pad. Of course, who's got the time in the "free" world to voluntary walk 3 miles? At - what counts for me as speed-walking now - 2.5 mph, it's like 1 hour and 12 minutes!!!! But! I do 3/4 of a mile absolutely every morning - no excuses... A lot of foods got banished entirely and the ordering-out was pretty much outlawed... It's a hungry and emotionally draining life... Talking about the struggle being real! 

And that's when the whole weight-loss-after-sixty factor became vividly evident... Here's the sad truth: After two years of sticking to that strict regiment... I've cumulatively lost 9 lb....

And yes, the vanity is still there: "It's not fair!!! I cannot fit my arms into my fancy suit jackets!!!" and stuff like that... But on top of that, there are far more detrimental aspects of being overweight in the twilight of your middle age: particularly the exacerbation of the natural body wear, which manifests itself through such unpleasantries as degenerative arthritis of your knees (a few episodes before the very end, Raymond Reddington [played by James Spader, who is 8 months older than I am] says, that it's the knees first and then the eyesight); or nonalcoholic fatty liver (and that's just heartbreaking - I've never drunk!); or the rising blood sugar (I don't even sweeten my coffee or tea and never drink soft drinks!).

The knee pain is particularly troublesome - it turns any type of stairs into a torture and completely removes the tiny grains of joy out of walking and rowing, turning any and all exercising into pure misery... So, a few months ago, during the semi-annual visit to my primary physician, I broke my "everything is fine as usual" routine and talked to him about the knee, and the walking, and the rowing, and the watching calories... And he went, "Well, there's Ozempic..."

"O-o-what?!" ...Now it seems inconceivable, but until he spoke that word I've never heard of it. Never-ever... Well, primarily, I guess, because I don't follow the mainstream celebrity gossip... AT ALL... But, once you know about it, of course, you see it everywhere...

The doctor said, "I know you always research everything. So, do that..."

The first thing I did, I mentioned it to my daughter. "Well, mom," she texted back, "Ozempic is the reason why Natasha Leone looks the way she does..." Damn! Having watched Poker Face, I was actually wondering about that... "Do you know its mechanism?" I, the life-long nonbeliever in weight-loss drugs, asked. She didn't.   

So, I hit all my research buttons... What I found out was life-changing-ly revelatory... It turned out that semiglutide (Ozempic's chemical name) works by mimicking a naturally occurring hormone GLP-1, which stimulates insulin secretion by pancreas and lowers blood glucose (hence its primary purpose as a Type 2 Diabetes remedy). But here's the thing: As the levels of this hormone rise, the digestive system sends a message to your brain, signaling that you are full. Reportedly, these mental prompts are quite similar to the effects of bariatric (aka stomach-stapling) surgeries...

You know how once in a blue moon you literally have an epiphany that you've been missing something most crucial from your life? Well, that's what happened to me when it became vividly clear that my endocrine system simply doesn't generate that GLP-1 hormone. Because, I have never experienced the sensation of that blessed fullness... If nothing else, I've been hungry all my life.

On the other hand, I'm quite familiar with the concept of fullness: Not only that I've met people who underwent the bariatric procedures and felt nauseous after drinking a full glass of water, but I've also known naturally skinny individuals and I've observed them getting full - literally unable to take another bite - after consuming modest quantities of food... It's the reason why always say that when a skinny person says that he ate a lot and a fat person says he ate nothing, the amount of food consumed by the former is still smaller than that ingested by the latter.

And now these people (I mean, Ozempic's manufacturers) are telling me that I can get full? And quickly? On small amounts of food? This medicine will curb my appetite and will make the dieting easy? I need that shit!!! Now!!!  No, let me correct that: I've been needing that shit all my life!

And the doctor offered it! So, I can get the prescription and start my self-injecting weekly cycle, like, tomorrow! Right?

TO BE CONTINUED...

 

      

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

 

 

 

"I Built This Prison" Memoir: Teaser #4: Maslow Hierarchy of Needs for White-Collar Employees

Off the Cutting Room Floor of "I Built This Prison" Memoir: Clip #3: Methodical Corruption of the Soul

Hieronymus Bosch, Garden of Earthly Delights, Fragment

"When Nietzsche wrote, 'God is dead', he wasn't really talking about God's existence per se. On the contrary, he was commenting on the state of human morality, or rather lack thereof, in the society greatly affected by the industrial revolution... And even that is not exactly right: it was more about the pervasive preoccupation with the accumulation of wealth... For many centuries before, whether correctly or not, philosophers and writers presumed the corruption by money to be the rich people's affliction. I mean, you will not find any peasants in Dante's Inferno. What Nietzsche alluded to was that by his time everyone, regardless of the status or the class, got onto the money-mining wagon and, as a result, removed themselves from God: even those attending services, kept doing it as a habitual ritual, not because of some true faith:

'They no longer even know what religions are good for and merely register their presence in the world with a kind of dumb amazement. They feel abundantly committed, these good people, whether to their business or to their pleasures, not speak of the “fatherland” and their newspapers and “family obligations”: it seems that they simply have no time left for religion, the more so because it remains unclear to he whether it involves another business or another pleasure...'

                        Fredrich Nietzsche

                        Beyond Good and Evil, Part Three: What Is Religious

Well, we can argue that instead of formulating that snappy motto about God's demise amidst all of the 'civilized' industriousness, he should've written: We, the humans, murdered God through the distraction of morality. But he said what he said. And it created a circular effect: his audience believed him - literally, and it liberated many into further relaxation of moral codes. Because we hear what we want to hear, disregarding the true meaning of the words.

And there lies the danger of catch phrases. They become popular beyond their intended audiences. Once out there, among the millions, all ideas described by memorable slogans get separated from their origins, adapted to the users’ whims and needs, reinterpreted, reshaped, modified to the point of becoming opposite of themselves. Sometimes it’s an act of the intentional distortion, but mostly it happens without any deliberation on the part of the unthinking revisionists.

I mean, I was born into a vile society that was built on blood, hate  and expropriation masked as 'liberation' causes by the slogans of supposed freedoms. It's the reason why I ran away, idealistically hoping to be delivered onto more virtuous planes..."

                        Deleted from Chapter 5: Omni-Present and Omni-Powerful

    

Off the Cutting Room Floor of "I Built This Prison" Memoir: Clip #2: Tears of Admiration vs. Desperate Crying

 

"My, as I call it, 'crying in awe' goes a little bit further than the conventional lacrimation with the divinity of the (oh, so appropriately named!) Requiem's installment -  Lacrimosa. It’s hard not to cry together with 35-year-old Mozart over the heart-breaking truth of him being within hours from the grave and  all his life's struggles as well as our own sins and fears of the unknown punishments yet to come. Everyone with a soul, no matter how shrunken, weeps listening to that.

I, on the other hand, is known to commence the waterworks even when watching a 'comedic' act - if it's brilliance manages to impact my aesthetic receptors. Like the first time I watched Bo Burnham's 'Make Happy' on Netflix: twenty minutes in, the tears just started pouring out of my eyes in recognition of the boy's astonishing talent. Stuff like that - in the movies, at plays, in the museums, over books...

And don't even get me started on J.Ivy's poetic contribution into Kanye West's 'Never Let Me Down' - it's profound beauty invariably triggers my tear ducts, every time I listen to the song... 

Unfortunately, that's not the bulk of my tears production. Genius is rare, desperation abound...

♦♦♦

...Even though they were the biggest contributors into all that wetness, it wouldn’t be fair to place the entire blame for it on my most prevalent pain bringers – my parents first and my employers later. Even in my personal safe heavens of academic institutions – the places where my abilities and efforts have always been singled out, appreciated, rewarded, and even lauded – once in a while, there would be somebody to trigger the tear ducts. This primarily goes back to my Soviet youth – the time when I was powerless to do anything about, for instance, a Philosophy Department Chair openly expressing his surprise about what he perceived as an incongruity between my wild Jewish hair and my deep knowledge of classical marxism. (Dude! I had straight A's in everything - that's just how I was.)  And that's the truth of it - sometimes random strangers can be as harmful as people who already know your soft spots. It’s funny how this type of small stuff sometimes ends up to be so devastating. It's so difficult to shake off such pointless rudeness. Its emotional violence feels as if a metal-studded cat-o’-nine-tails landed between your shoulder blades. And then, your breath catches, and you lose control of your ducts...

And what else can you possibly do but go and let it all pour out? In secret, of course... What other quick and ready means you have for mitigating the impulses to throw punches and yell, for disarming the triggers that have a potential of sending you into scandalous fits. Effectively, it helps you to dissociate: Regardless of what was happening inside my mind and at the center of my soul, I still went to work every day and performed all my duties, attended meetings and functions; kept the bosses’ businesses and my own household running smoothly, without a single visible glitch. Never a fucking mess in public. With all the pain hidden so deeply that other people, affected by the same terribly hostile environments, would frequently marvel, "How the hell do you manage to stay so composed? How do you bear this? How do you keep yourself so calm?” And I would just smile in response, while letting the nuclear devastation scorching away my sanity... Years of control-building and the aforementioned secret crying - that's how...

Yet, the bile's buildup had to manifest itself on the surface in some ways..."

                                                                 Deleted from Chapter 4 - Bucket of Tears... and Blood  

 

  

 

"I Built This Prison" Memoir: Teaser #2: That Endless Battle: Angel on One Shoulder, Devil on the Other

"I Built This Prison" Memoir: Excerpt: High Achiever with Low Self-Esteem

From Chapter 1, Pride Desperately Seeking Validation

"...I used to think of my unhappy self as some sort of a special brand of weirdo.  And in many ways the circumstances that have shaped my life were very specific.  However, the tangible outcome, the resulting state of mind - that yearning for validation - and not by everyone, but by a particular someone - it is not unique at all.  In fact, many people live the same daily struggle and suffer the overwhelming despair that comes with it.  

Since the moment I accepted that I have a problem and began examining my own condition, I started seeing it in others as well...

...Various forms of this desire for one’s value to be acknowledged and appreciated by the specific people we anoint as our yardsticks can be traced all the way to biblical and mythological sources. “Father’s blessing” as a token of love and recognition is at the center of practically every single sibling rivalry in Genesis, Greek mythology, and Norse lore.

♦♦♦

Despite its relative commonality, it’s not easy to define this condition in one straightforward formula. It’s full of paradoxical qualities.

For example, one of the most prominent common denominators among people who suffer from the rift within their self-image in the same way I do is the drive for overachieving. In spite of the deep, dark emotional abysses inside, on the outside we go out and display the superior levels of functionality.

It’s easy to confuse low self-esteem with the lack of confidence. Even some dictionaries explain one’s meaning with the other.  But they are, by far, not the same. Somehow, being absolutely clear about the extent of my capacities and striving to fully utilize them have always coexisted in me with thinking of myself as utterly worthless. In fact, the awareness of the merit I invested into my accomplishments made my craving of the acknowledgement that much more intense.

This malady is a bizarre cocktail of contradictions. It definitely paralyzed my aspirations and stunted all impulses of positive daring, but conventionally I was doing just fine. I still went about being a straight A student, acquiring multiple academic degrees, expanding my professional expertise, positioning myself at the executive level of the companies that hired me.

It's like a dual-action trauma: on one hand, I was pounded into the chasm of neglectful diminishment; and on the other hand, I was motivated to swim up and out..."

♦♦♦

Beyond my parents "...my recognition-thirsty psyche... fixated on the worst option possible: my bosses. Granted, I’m not talking about some middle-management hired hands. At the very beginning of my professional career back in the 1990, I made a conscious choice of advancing it in the precarious environment of flat-structured, privately-held, owners-ran companies. I’ve held Controller and CFO positions since 1993 and I’ve never had any layers between myself and the Founder/CEO/President. It placed me and my efforts into the spotlight held by 'the only people who mattered' – the ones directly responsible for my appreciation and rewards.

A totally unbalanced logic led me to seek and expect (!) approval from these little Napoleons, the tiny kings in their kingdoms, the self-made entrepreneurs, from whom I chose to accept employment. It is mind-boggling that, even though I usually managed to quickly identify their professional shortcomings and human deficiencies, I remained completely blind to the futility of my hopes to be assessed by them in accordance with my merits.

Nietzsche saw the conscious understanding of one’s value as a natural distinction of someone with a 'master' mentality. And he attributed a man’s 'waiting of an opinion about himself' to the concept of a 'servant' mentality. He called the latter an 'immense atavism', implying that it belonged to the old times, when the society was clearly divided.

No matter who we are, when we submit into Employment, we are forced to adapt ourselves to the idea of servitude. And in some of us, it clashes terribly with our true identities.

♦♦♦     

Naturally, the continuous mental battle between the two modes of existence – the one, in which you know your value and are recognized for it, and the one, in which you are ignored and mistreated by those who matter the most – builds an incredibly debilitating pressure inside. This constant back-and-forth switches between someone’s recognition vs. someone else’s disregard, make you sick – and I don’t mean dizzy.       

My agitated mind needed to defend itself in one or another way. While I consciously refused to admit to myself that I had a problem, my subconsciousness has built a defense mechanism all on its own: It learned to seek comfort in the familiar groove of misery carved into my psyche by the repetitive escapes into the dark corners of depression, anxiety, self-loathing, and self-pity.

Just like a gramophone needle, I would drop into this loathsome rut and let myself run, and run, and run in it. And then again, and again, and again…  Every time I felt hurt by one or another situation, a word, or someone’s action – big or small, didn’t matter – I would habitually seek solace in an emotional state most psychiatric professionals would consider highly problematic.

I guess, my depression symptoms have always been somewhat plain to see, because even my primary physicians would suggest a medication. I’ve been on one or another anti-depressant and anti-anxiety pill for some stretches of time since I was 18 years old.  And then I’d stop taking them for the periods just as long.  Sometimes, for very legitimate reasons – like when I was pregnant. And sometimes I would quit for no reason at all. Probably, because I didn’t want to think of myself as crazy or weak.

But you see, even when I did take the medication, it didn’t really work on the internal turmoil.  Like most pharmaceuticals, psychiatric drugs are not the cures; they don’t treat the underlying conditions, they just mitigate the superficial symptoms, which is presumably important but hardly sufficient. 

I would come to a doctor and within the allotted appointment time give a brief description of the darkness and the jittery nervousness that in me manifested itself in cardiological-like aches. “It’s stress,” was the invariable conclusion that satisfied all parties involved: the doctor knew what to prescribe and the patient accepted the chronic nature of the affliction.  What can be done about Stress in the contemporary circus of bread-winning intercut with the single motherhood?  Nothing, really.  And who has the time to look closer, let alone deeper?

Meanwhile, the banal shield of 'stressful life' had completely obscured the fact that amidst the unyielding battle between my self-value and low self-esteem I have gradually become severely addicted to Praise and would do anything to achieve it."

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               

"I Built This Prison" Memoir: Teaser #1: Parental Judgement

"Moms and Dads are the most frequent appointees to our personal value-judgement benches. It appears to be a natural trait for the of humanity, not just the clinical praise addicts like myself."

                                    "I Built This Prison", p.10

Marina Guzik was my maiden name

The Frustrated CFO Suddenly Peeps Out: Did you miss me?

Илья Репин "Не ждали"

Well, would you look at that?!! It's been more than 7 (SEVEN!!!) years since my last post... One president went away; the ambitious blonds didn't manage to replace him: their archenemy won instead and then barely survived his term and its consequences; and then another president stumbled in... And even he is already three quarters of the way through his term... All sorts of fucked up cultural upheavals occurred... A pandemic happened with all of its socio-economic consequences... And all the while, the Frustrated CFO remained silent... What happened? - you may ask...

(And some of you are probably also wondering why the hell this strange person shelled out seven-years-worth of fees to keep this blog dormant, yet alive? And the truth of the matter is that I couldn't bring myself to extinguish my posts out of the Internet existence even if only one of them had a potential of attracting a single reader... But also: I knew this day would come...)

What happened was that by venting in this blog's posts my annoyance with political, social, and cultural issues - all that tangent, entertaining, but not crucially relevant shit (since 2010, no less!) - I was simply deflecting from the actual problems in my life, letting the real genuine desperation building, and building, and building... To the point when it eventually achieved a critical mass and I went kaboom! As postal as can be...

Maybe if I myself stuck to the truth I was originally propagating by starting this blog - that writing is therapy - and openly discussed my problems here, I could've prevented myself from psychological and moral deterioration... Maybe, maybe not... There were so many triggering factors in my life, which I never revealed to anybody - kept it all inside! And clearly, snapping from time to time under the "Bosses" category at the people who employed me didn't alleviate the accumulating tension...

But no, when the time of passing into the dark came, I didn't go at them with guns blazing and got it over with in one violent burst... I hate all sorts of outright violence... Wouldn't touch anyone one with my pinky... The subversive criminal violating - that's a different story... The stretched out, torturous  self-destruction of continuous embezzlement... Millions... And none the wiser - for months, more than two years - no one noticing, not having a clue, or inkling... In spite of my burning desire to be found out... So, why the fuck would I write about it here?

A few weeks after I wrote my two-blonds jokes, I finally got caught. It took mere 48 hours for me to return more than a third of the embezzled funds back and get pushed into the hands of Justice. I got arrested... and so on, and so forth.. A short stint at Rikers, sixteen months of legal proceedings, three solid years of imprisonment... The aftermath... Not exactly blogging-inducing circumstances... 

And when the time for the redemptive revelations has come, the scope of it seemed so much bigger than a series of blog posts... Hence, the memoir: "I Built This Prison" . By the time I started writing it, I was done hiding. This book is possibly the most honest I've ever been with myself... About the genesis and the perpetration of the crime. About the various punishments that I inflicted on myself and others as well as those exacted against me. Bringing it to completion took as long as the time I spent in the NYS correctional system. Go figure...

Dear God, forgive me my sins and send me readers! I will even settle for just one...

Hence, you can be sure I will continue talking about my memoir here. Ultimately, it ended up to be a therapeutical exercise - as only writing can be. And I want you to share the experience of it... 

  

   

  

 

  

Quote of the Week: Another Twist to Old Aphorism

"Money doesn't buy happiness.  But happiness isn't everything."

                                                    Jean Seberg

                                                    1938 - 1979

The Struggle Is Real for Employers As Millennials Enter the Workforce with Their Own Value System

Like many hiring execs, I still have an employer account with Monster.com, even though the time when they dominated the job-hunting market has passed.  Nowadays, they are not even at the top of the industry leaders list.  Still, we got used to them in the 17 years they've been around.  And they do try their best to provide the paying clients with value-added bells and whistles beyond the standard ad posting:  resume matching, database searching, description writing, HR Resource Center, and whatnot.  

One of these add-ons is the email service that blasts recruitment articles to all registered users.  I usually ignore these emails, but the last one had an article with an enticing title The Real Reason Millennials are Leaving Your Company.  

The first thing that caught my eye was the singular "Reason."  I thought, "The author was able to identify a single, most fundamental cause of what appears to be a case of chronic pins and needles in the millennial butts?  That's remarkable!"

I got even more curious reading the logline.  It talked about an abundance of options, "a plethora of jobs" that allow millennials to be "super selective" in their career choices.  Moreover, it promised expert advice to employers on how to keep the "valuable millennials" in the work seats.  I was like: This must be one of those sci-fi imagine-if humorous thingies, because these statements, if not drenched in undiluted sarcasm, can only refer to some remote planet in an unknown universe.  Here on Earth, right now, most of the millennials you and I know are either unemployed, or work jobs that have nothing to do with their chosen professions (let alone vocations), or stretch their schooling to avoid facing the bleakness of the job market.  I mean, there are premium cable shows and broadcast sitcoms about it.   

And, "valuable millennials?"  Yes, they exist, in small numbers and tiny clusters, and you ought to be very lucky to have them around.  But generally speaking: the state of our arts and entertainment is a testimony of young people's value and their values.  And when it comes to hiring, you need to go through 800 entry-level resumes to find 3 candidates who can write a coherent sentence, even though (I'm talking to you, senator Sanders!), all of the applicants have college degrees.     

Opening the article immediately dispelled all enthusiasm.  Firstly, no pinnacle reasoning was crystallized.  The piece was divided into subsections addressing different causes for millennials' job mobility.  Since the author is not a Canadian afflicted by the national inability to pluralize words, I can only attribute the use of the single form in the title to writing and editing sloppiness.  And, of course, there was not a single whiff of alien or any other humor.

In fact, the self-branded Talent Maximizer® Roberta Matuson, who wrote the article, takes herself and her "advisory" role very seriously.  In complete solemnity she lists the following as the reasons why the millennials don't want to hold on to their jobs (with my commentaries):

• Millennials want to work for companies that help to improve society.  Ms. Matuson suggests that those employers who want to retain Millennial workers should "take a closer look at the organizational purpose," assess how the company's mission impacts society, and redefine its purpose.

To paraphrase Woody Allen, "What's wrong with this?  Everything!" 

First of all, what does the lame formula "improved society" mean?  What's a "better society" for one person, is hell for another.  The massive support of Bernie Sanders by young voters clearly shows that they want to live in a welfare state.  I, on the other hand, have been preaching no government interference and market economy my whole life.  I would understand if the focus was more specific - let's say on environmental issues.  If employees of different ages boycotted the fracking industry, for example, our society would seriously benefit in the long run.  But I doubt we are talking about future impact here.  I'm pretty sure that if the fracking industry started providing free daily lunches to local people, the millennials would think of them as employers with a positive mission!  Never mind the explosions and the fiery faucets.

And what happened to the old-fashioned purpose of being profitable, staying in business, and continuously providing jobs?  It's not good enough?  Do all millennials want to work for non-profits spending grants, or public companies depleting investors' pension and college funds?

• Millennials need constant external motivation: nurture, praise, repeat.  A shout-out here, a lunch with a boss there, or an invite to an off-site event, Ms. Matuson suggests, will help to demonstrate that the employers care.  Otherwise, the millennials will leave, because "the recession is over."  

Well, this is not the first time I am confronted with the suggestion that what I call "hugging motivation" is more important to younger people than fairness, objectivity, professional growth, adequate compensation, etc.  Don't get me wrong, the acknowledgement of one's achievement is incredibly important, but only if it's deserved.   Constantly patting on the back some unimpressive, low-value jackass out of fear that they will leave - that would be a betrayal of my work ethics and a violation of my fiduciary duty as a CFO.  Merit-based rewards, people!  That's what made America great in the first place and that's what will bring the greatness back! 

And here she goes again with the sci-fi twist: the recession is over!  Where?  In Alpha Centauri?  Oh, wait - on the front page of The Wall Street Journal and in government reports.   In real life, we are in the permanently recessive stage of economic decline with no prospects for upward turn.  This slow sliding may feel to the uninitiated as a flat plateau, but just you wait - we are bound to experience some dramatic crashes as well.

• (Brace yourself for this one, cause contrary to the previous statement:) Compensation is important to millennials, especially if they have student loans.  "If you don't pay the millennial whatever he or she thinks they are worth," they will leave.

So, no matter how much you praise them, and hug them, and take them to lunch, the old-school paycheck still matters! Except there is nothing old-school about it either.  Back in the day, wages were determined by clear and tangible factors: the sophistication of the job, the level of expertise, the scarcity of QUALIFIED professionals on the market.  But apparently it doesn't work like that with the generation of people who were born after The Breakfast Club and Back to the Future came out.  The key to their adequate compensation is their own self-worth.  We must pay them whatever they think we must pay them.  And don't forget, the employers need to account for the student loans!  Essentially the implication is that we have to pay them what they NEED and not what they earn.  "From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs" maybe sounds right to Sanders's supporters, but it is not the principle that lies in the American foundation.  You know whose principle that is?  Marxists-communists!

• Millennials require work-life balance.  

Just the millennials?  Is that what the article's author actually believes?  That millennials should be treated preferentially when it comes to working hours, paid time-off, etc.?  That there should be two different HR policies in every company, one for millennials and another for the rest of us chickens?  That's age-based discrimination, isn't it?   

I've always believed in the importance of work-life balance and regularly wrestle with the owners to ensure that every employee has access to the same set of benefits and perks.  And what my experience shows is that the millennials take the full advantage of these packages like no one else; sometimes to the point of abuse.  90% run out of the office the minute the clock strikes the official end time, no matter what's happening with the work.  Many don't even spare a few seconds to shut down their computers (yet all of them fancy themselves "environmentalists").  Just last year, I had a millennial employee who was out for 15 working days in the 5 months I tolerated her bullshit.  I've never had to deal with that kind of attitude before the millennials entered the workforce.         

The truth is that you don't need to be an HR expert to formulate your ideas about the reasons behind the millennials' prevalent job discontent.  Any experienced manager with a keen eye and some human insight can draw up a comprehensive list.  And here is mine (in no particular order):

1.  Many millennials, especially liberal arts majors, have a hard time defining their purpose and developing a sense of belonging at a job.  This is primarily because they go to college to learn... nothing.  I'm not even talking about slacking and partying.  There are so many narrow-niche bullshit "liberal arts" degrees out there, most bachelor graduates acquire no practical knowledge.  And it makes thinking of a career path very difficult.
2. Much scarier, they are not equipped with any basic learning skills.  They can neither study on their own, nor operate with minimal supervision.  Not able to absorb new knowledge, they feel like failures and will eventually leave for an "easier" job.
3. Turns out that the damned phone is a millennial Achilles heel.  The millennials are so used to texting, tweeting, and posting, 85% of them are afraid of talking on the phone.  When confronted with a job that entails constant voice-to-voice interactions, which are a plenty,  they opt to quit.
4. Aside from athletes and health freaks, young people nowadays live incredibly passive lives.  Some people say that the abundance of streaming content is to blame, but we all know that way before YouTube (2005) and  Netflix's streaming (2008), young people were already glued to their computers and game consoles.  Thus, they suffer terribly on the jobs that require them to be out of the office most of the time - selling, pitching, servicing, etc.  According to some HR professionals, this is one of the millennials' biggest complains.    
5. The bulk of this generation grew up with no discipline or structure, both at home and at school.  While being a non-conformist is an invaluable quality when it comes to independent thinking and artistic expression, in a survival-driven business environment the lack of self-control, inability to follow rules of conduct, and disregard for subordination can make one's life pretty unbearable. 
6. They want to be hugged and cuddled all the time.  Many of them crumble under pressure and cannot deal with reprimands.
7. I know it sounds like a cliche at this point, but it is true - they do want trophies just for showing up, because that's what they are used to.  As a result, they develop a clinical deficiency of self-motivation for achieving merit-based recognition.  They shy away from competitive environments where hard work and achievement translates into tangible rewards of raises, bonuses, and promotions.
8. Celebrity-saturated social media made the majority of millennials into unsettled zombies who are preoccupied with fantasies of becoming instantaneously rich and famous.  I guarantee that the star-struck ones will continue moving from one job to another, feeling extremely discontent.   
9. The majority of the millennials are not prepared to be self-reliant.  The livelihood of many a chronic quitter usually doesn't depend on their own paychecks; they expect to be continuously supported by their parents.  
10. And some young people, just like in every generation before them, are restless because they want to be adventurers; they are afraid that Life will pass them by.  The boring job can wait; while they pursue their dreams.  And, of course, sadly, most of them are confused, and don't know what they want, and don't have any ideas, or talents, or clues.  But let me tell you: that is the only good reason to quit your job (assuming you can afford it).  All the others are just weaknesses and incompetence.