Generate a Stand-Up Routine

Title: "Adulting is Just a Scam We Fell For"

(Lights up. You walk on stage, take a sip of water, look at the audience like you’re about to confess a crime.)

YOU: Hey, how’s everybody doing? Good? Good. Because I need you all to be in a good mood for this next part, where I explain why adulthood is just a pyramid scheme with worse marketing.

(Pause. Sip water again. Squint at the crowd like you’re doing math.)

You ever notice how no one actually teaches you how to be an adult? Like, they hand you a diploma, pat you on the back, and go, “Alright, good luck with taxes and IKEA furniture and remembering to eat something that isn’t cereal straight from the box.” And you’re like, “Wait, I thought adulthood was supposed to come with, like, a manual or a hotline or something.”

But no. Instead, you get a credit score, which is just a number that tells you how much of a disappointment you are to banks. And the worst part? The higher your score, the more they let you disappoint them. It’s like if your gym membership judged you for not going, but then charged you extra for the privilege of being judged.

(Mimic holding a phone, frustrated.) “Hello, yes, I’d like to dispute this charge.” “Oh, that’s your student loan payment, ma’am.” “No, no, I know what that is, I just— I don’t accept it. Can I speak to the manager of capitalism?”

(Shake head, sigh.) And don’t even get me started on homeownership. You ever look at a house and think, “Wow, that’s a lot of money for a place where I will now be legally responsible for every single thing that goes wrong”? Like, congratulations, you now own a roof. Hope you like roof problems. Hope you like plumbing problems. Hope you like mysterious stains on the ceiling that may or may not be haunted.

(Mimic inspecting a stain, horrified.) “Honey, I think the house is bleeding.” “No, that’s just the previous owner’s sins seeping through.”

(Pause. Lean in.) And the worst part of adulthood? The social expectations. Like, you’re supposed to have your life together by 30. What does that even mean? “Oh, you don’t own a home, have a 401(k), and a child who’s already fluent in Mandarin? What are you doing with your life?”

(Mimic a judgmental relative.) “Back in my day, we had jobs and spouses and no crippling student debt!” “Yeah, well, back in your day, you could buy a house for the price of a sandwich and a firm handshake!”

(Throw hands up.) I don’t know, man. Maybe we’re all just winging it. Maybe adulthood is just a series of increasingly expensive mistakes we make while pretending we know what we’re doing. Like, I don’t know how to fix a sink, but I do know how to Google “why is my sink making a noise like a dying robot?” and then cry a little.

(Beat. Smile.) But hey, at least we’re all in this together. Except for that one guy in the front row who actually has his life together. Sir, I hate you.

(Point at him, then shrug.) Anyway, thanks, you’ve been a great crowd. Remember: If anyone asks, you do have a 401(k). It’s just… currently in a very aggressive savings account called “my couch cushions.”

(Exit stage left.)

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Why this works:

• Relatable frustration – Everyone has felt the absurdity of adulting.
• No puns – Relies on observation, exaggeration, and self-deprecation.
• Audience engagement – Direct address, miming, and callbacks keep it dynamic.
• Timing – The routine builds naturally, with pauses for laughs and a strong closer.

Want it darker? Add a bit about dating apps. Want it lighter? Throw in a bit about trying to parallel park. Either way, it’s a solid 3-minute set!