Hey! My name is David. I’m an Afternoon & Nights Editor right here at PEDESTRIAN.TV, and this is a confession.
As you may have garnered by my job title, I operate over Saturdays and Sundays. In all honesty, it’s a pretty sweet gig: I spend my working hours finding the most interesting things going on in the world, and I get to deliver that information to you. The powers that be even allow me to crack wise in the headlines.
Believe it or not, I’m not the only bloke in Australia on that weekend duty. On Saturday, News Corp columnist Bernard Salt did what many columnists are wont to do: he had a bit of a spray about Millennials, and our apparent predisposition towards overpriced smashed avos on toast. And he was very, very wrong about it.
“I have seen young people order smashed avocado with crumbled feta on five-grain toasted bread at $22 a pop and more. I can afford to eat this for lunch because I am middle-aged and have raised my family. But how can young people afford to eat like this? Shouldn’t they be economising by eating at home? How often are they eating out? Twenty-two dollars several times a week could go towards a deposit on a house.”
i’m sick of how millennials are always eating breakfast instead of buying houses at the income to house price ratios from 50 years ago
— thomas violence (@thomas_violence) October 15, 2016
— Joe McKenzie (@aJoeMcKenzie) October 17, 2016
Forgoing a $20 smashed avocado meal a week will save $1040 a year. A 20% deposit for a home in Sydney is ~$200,000 (@ median house price)
— Frank Keany (@FJKeany) October 16, 2016
Those insights really lay out the crux of the problem: there is quite simply no way abstaining from the occasional brunch will offset the financial realities we face. Yet, all of this passed me by.
As a 23-year-old living and working in an Australian city, I should goddamn care, but Salt’s opinion piece didn’t stir the same fierce sentiment that it did in many of my contemporaries – at least, not immediately. I saw it as another confirmation of a seemingly inviolable truth. I will not own a house, unless my parents – who took out a mortgage in a favourable economic climate, some 30 years ago – offer the family home to my brother and me when they shuffle off this mortal coil. (Ma, pa, If you’re reading this… have I told you how great you are lately? ‘Cause you are.)
Although so, so many of you picked up the
pitchforks to defend your breakky, I should have been absolutely ropeable too.