"ADULTING IS A SCAM"
walks on stage
So I've figured something out, and I need to share this with you all because I think we've been lied to our entire lives. Adulting is a scam. It's a pyramid scheme, and we're all at the bottom paying for it.
When you're a kid, adults make it sound amazing. They're like, "Oh, just wait until you're grown up. You can stay up as late as you want! You can eat ice cream for dinner!"
And you're like, "Oh my God, that sounds incredible!"
pauses
You know what I do now that I'm an adult? I go to bed at 9:15 PM. And I get EXCITED about it. I'm like, "Yes, finally, I can lie in the dark and think about my mistakes for six hours!" That's my hobby now.
And the ice cream for dinner thing? I tried it once. You know what happened? I got heartburn AND existential dread. My stomach was upset, and my brain was just screaming, "IS THIS REALLY WHAT YOU'RE DOING WITH YOUR LIFE?"
sits on stool
But here's the thing that really gets me. Nobody tells you about the paperwork. So much paperwork. I have a filing system now. ME. I have a FILING SYSTEM. I'm not even thirty, and I'm organizing receipts like some kind of tax-obsessed robot.
My mom called me the other day, and I was genuinely excited to tell her about my new label maker. A LABEL MAKER. I said, "Mom, you won't believe how organized my files are." And she was just silent. I think she was mourning the loss of her child.
The worst part? I MEANT what I said. I was genuinely proud. That's when you know you're an adult—when you get excited about office supplies. Your personality just gets smaller and smaller until you're just... a guy with a label maker.
stands up
And nobody tells you about the money thing. When you're a kid, you think, "When I have a job, I'll have SO much money!"
And technically, yes, I have more money than I did when I was seven. But do you know what that money is for? Rent. That's it. That's the whole thing. I get paid, and rent just eats it. It's like a financial Pac-Man.
I went to the grocery store last week—this is real—I went to the grocery store, and I spent eighty-seven dollars. EIGHTY-SEVEN DOLLARS. I have no idea what I bought. I left with no bags that could possibly cost that much, but apparently, I needed them.
My receipt was longer than my arm. I'm standing there looking at it like, "Did I buy groceries or a small car?"
mimics reading receipt
"Milk... check. Bread... check. Somehow, $47 in mysterious items... check."
I don't even know what I'm buying anymore. I just go to the store in a daze, throw things in a cart, and then act surprised at checkout like, "WHAT?! That much?!" Every single time. You'd think I'd learn.
walks across stage
And dating as an adult? That's its own special kind of torture. When you're a teenager, you think dating is going to be like the movies. Someone's going to look at you across a crowded room, and there's going to be music, and you'll just KNOW.
You know what actually happens? You match with someone on an app, you text for three weeks about nothing, you meet up, and within five minutes, you realize they have the personality of a beige wall.
And the conversations! Oh my God, the conversations. I went on a date last month, and this guy spent forty minutes—I timed it—forty minutes telling me about his fantasy football league.
FANTASY. FOOTBALL.
Not even real football. The fake one. He was explaining trades to me like I was a general manager. I was just sitting there with a smile on my face that was slowly calcifying into a permanent grimace.
And the thing is, I can't even be mad at him because I'M boring too now. What am I gonna talk about? My mortgage? My concerns about my credit score?
That's what happened to me. I got older, and now I get EXCITED about credit scores. A good credit score will literally make me happy for a whole day. That's not normal. That's not a personality. That's just... resignation.
sits back on stool
My therapist—and yes, I have a therapist now, another adult tax—my therapist asked me, "What brings you joy?"
And I literally couldn't answer. I just sat there. "What brings me joy?" What a question. I like... sleeping? I like when nobody needs anything from me? Is that joy? Is that what joy is now?
I told her, "I like when I find money in my jacket pocket." And she wrote that down. Like that was a real answer. I'm paying her money to listen to me describe the joy of forgotten pocket change.
stands
You know what I realized? We're all just pretending. Every adult is just pretending they know what they're doing. We're all walking around like we have it figured out, but we're all just... winging it.
I saw a guy in a suit the other day—expensive suit, briefcase, the whole thing—and I watched him walk directly into a glass door that he clearly didn't see. And I thought, "That's it. That's what being an adult is. We're all just walking into glass doors and pretending it didn't happen."
He literally just kept walking like, "Yeah, I meant to do that. Very normal. I'm fine."
pause
We're all that guy.
And the crazy part? The CRAZY part? We have to teach kids how to be adults. We have to look them in the eye and be like, "Okay, here's how you do it." And we're all just lying. We're all just like, "You get a job, you pay your bills, and then you die. Good luck!"
That's the whole thing! That's the tutorial!
walks to edge of stage
I saw a teenager the other day—couldn't have been more than sixteen—and she looked so hopeful. So full of potential. And I wanted to grab her by the shoulders and be like, "Run. Run now. Stay young. Don't become like us. Don't end up excited about label makers and a good credit score."
But I didn't say anything. I just smiled and thought about my filing system.
long pause
So that's it. That's the scam. We're all just pretending. We're all just adults walking into glass doors, spending money we don't have on things we don't need, and acting like we have it figured out.
And the worst part? The absolute worst part?
In like ten years, I'm gonna be even MORE excited about my filing system.
bows slightly
Thank you, you've been a wonderful audience. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go home. It's 8:47 PM, and I need to get to bed.
exits
