So what do you do while waiting for your turn to get out of the tiny moving box? Most people stared intently at the small TV in the corner – even if it meant looking through a fellow passenger’s head to do so –  and the rest alternated between staring at the floor indicator, and at their own feet. Me? I sneaked looks at my fellow passengers, at their “hurry the fuck up already” morning faces while they clutched their leather bags and Starbucks coffees. And when passengers got out, I took a good look around at their floor before the doors slid shut again.

Even though I didn’t really see much, I often imagine what the rest of the office might look like based on the glimpse of the hallway. After all, the carpet and walls are the first things employees and visitors see when they get off the elevator, so it will inevitably send a message about the business.

Nearly all the walls I saw were uniform shades of something inoffensive (off-white, or some pale mushroom non-colour tarted up with a few bland photos of trees, boats, or city skylines). But the carpets (or lack thereof), were all fairly different – and it’s the flooring that, for me, is the telling feature of the sort of business going on on that floor.

Here are a few of the floors I saw:

Smooth, pearl-grey flooring, and soft white lighting that made the hall look like a movie set. It looked both professional, and like something that would be a lot of fun to rollerblade on. I deemed that business as a fun place to work, with lots of natural lighting and really cool management – like a scaled-down Google.

A couple of the other floors had the industrial blue carpet you often see in a doctor or dental office. It’s thin and hard carpet whose stingy fibres are inevitably covered in odd stains and mangled staples. It’s an unforgiving floor, but also a much-abused floor. The kind you sort of hope you’ll spill stuff on because looking at it makes you feel sort of depressed. To me, that carpet belongs to a company that is trying to be “sensible in these tough economic times” and their carpet looks as good as the cost of living raises you won’t be getting while they “tighten their belts”.

My favourite carpet in the building though, was the carpet on the floors for which the building is named. Now these floors were serious about carpet. It’s carpet for people with a taste for nice things. Even without ever having actually walked on it, I am sure that they invested in the thick under-padding to give it a more  luxurious feel. The carpet itself is made of dense fibres that wear well, and look plush and new even after years of the drippy umbrellas, dirty shoes, and pointy heels that would destroy lesser carpets.

The colour and design of this masterpiece are no less carefully chosen. The base colour of the carpet is a rich (but understated) caramel, and woven in to this are deep ivory swirls and squiggles that loop across the floor in a pseudo-Irish/Victorian design, leading you on to the receptionist’s desk.

The carpet evokes images of GQ-esque models in smartly shined shoes, or elegant (but sensible) high heels. You can easily picture a young and trim up-and-coming with carefully groomed five o’clock shadow, holding his genuine leather briefcase while he checks his Tag Heuer watch.  You can smell the subtle hint of perfume from women in their smart and fitted grey suits, with a carefully chosen accent to bring out the colour in the frames of their Calvin Klein glasses. And if you listen closely as you breathe in the smell of fine leather and delicate flowers, you can hear their every movement whisper one word over and over again: success.

I am attributing too much to this carpet? Probably. But when your own work history includes peel-and-stick tile flooring, and preventing employees from putting their skateboarding-mishap scabs on the fast-food of belligerent customers, carpet like that can seem very impressive.

Still, despite the impressiveness of the carpet, I also thought it was sort of amusing to buy expensive carpet that will be trod on with shoes that have walked through downtown Vancouver – through its pools of saliva, damp cigarettes, splodges of half-chewed gum, spilled food and drink, and old smears of dog poop. All of that and more is being tracked across, and ground into, those expensive fibres.

Industrial blue carpet is suddenly looking like a half-decent choice…

Shopping for corporate carpet.

I know that it takes no effort to agree with people who share your opinions, but I think Mr. Nelson is exactly right: we need to give high school graduates more time and opportunity to figure out what they want for the rest of their lives.

I only wish this article had been around when I finished high school.

Let’s travel back in time, shall we?

It’s the summer of 1996. I’m 19 years old, and I’ve just graduated from high school with honours (though, I had to redo my Ontario Academic Credit (OAC) year to get those honours). As I clear out my locker, I feel the same way I did when I was a small child: giddy with excitement at the prospect of endless summer days. Days that I could I spend reading, and swimming in my boyfriend’s parent’s backyard pool; all the carefree parties, BBQ’s, keggers, and general teenage mayhem that I could find and enjoy would be mine.

Then, a little part of my brain, the one struggling up through my childish (and, frankly, rather awesome) ideas, imposed with some sobering and unwelcome adult news: “You’re going to have to get a job. University isn’t free – and you don’t even know if you got into one yet.”

I walk home from school with a heavy backpack, and even heavier heart.

I’ve applied to several universities. My parents are pushing for McMaster University or, failing that, Mohawk College (where, so far as I can tell, they hope I will take a nursing degree). I try to think about where I might find work for the summer, I’m already working at the A&P, but I’ll need more hours if I’m going to pay tuition. The images of reading in the shade, are replaced by images of ringing in produce and flipping burgers. I’m not a child anymore, but I want to cry. I hate that even at 19 years old, the tears of a frustrated and unhappy child are still very close to the surface, so I push them down as I walk home.

I unpack my bag while having questions and statements fired at me: “Have you got a job lined up?”, “If you go to McMaster or Mohawk, you could live here – but you’ll have to pay rent.”, “What are you going to take in school?”, “I think you should try nursing, we need more nurses in Canada.” And on and on. Now I really want to cry and throw a temper tantrum too. I do neither.

But later that night, while walking down by the river, and throwing stones at the few panes of glass not yet broken in the old abandoned factories down there, I admit it to myself: I have no idea what I want to be when I grow up. No idea at all.

Sitting here, in 2012, I wish I could go back in time and give 19 year old me a hug. I wish I could tell her that things did work out – eventually. But at the time…well, I signed on at the University of Ottawa for an English Literature degree because the only thing I knew I had any talent for, was reading. I knew enough to know that a degree would be an important bit of paper to have later. That future employers might not care what my degree was in so long as I had one. To employers, a degree meant a certain amount of intelligence and seriousness: I could be considered capable of learning new things – like a Rhesus monkey in a lab – if I had one.

Four years later, I graduated. By then I’d read Milton, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Wordsworth, Tolkien, Whitman and pretty much every other author considered “important”. And while I’d found new literary things to fall in love with, I still had no idea how to apply that love to anything practical that might help me pay off my considerable student loans.

I worked in a series of jobs completely unrelated to my degree: deli counter clerk, SGML coder, low man on the totem pole at the British High Commission, cashier at HMV, shipper and receiver at SportMart, purveyor of deep fried foods at Fast Eddie’s and, for a time, I was an unemployed and unemployable 20-something.

So I could recite Romeo’s speech to Juliet, that fair sun, as she appeared on her balcony…big deal. I still had no idea what I wanted to be.

Knowing what I do now, I wish that we had had the “grownup” training that Mr. Nelson talks about. I think it would have benefit me greatly as a clueless 19 year old. I was unfocused, unfinished, young, scared, stupid, and woefully unprepared to be an adult. An internship, or a minimum wage position, at various places to get a feel for the nine-to-five world would have been just the thing for me. If nothing else, I would have learned what I didn’t want for myself. I believe that it is just as important to figure out what you don’t want as it is what you do want.

I’m 36 now, and only in the past few years have I discovered that the nine-to-five world is a place I can only visit for short periods of time. I also discovered that I despise working in retail. Imagine if I had figured that out sooner! What if I’d known that at age 21, or even at 25? How much more diligently might I have pursued the things I really love? How much harder would I have worked to make them into things I could do to support myself? How much happier would I have been? How much more confident, and secure in myself might I have been?

I think that sending a teenager, especially one with no focus, into debt for an education that may never do them any good once they sort themselves out as a person, is stupid and foolhardy. What are they gaining from an academic setting when they don’t even know what they want to learn? The only really useful things I learned in my four years were, how to be more tolerant of people I despised living with, how to split a phone bill, and how to shotgun a beer without barfing. OK, maybe I’m exaggerating a teeny bit (though not that much, really), but for the young people who have no idea what they want for themselves for the rest of their lives, university is a frightening moment.

Think of it like this: most people in my family live to be about 90. So, doesn’t it seem stupid to ask me, at 19 years old, to decide on a course of action that will shape the next 71 years of my life?

Thought of in that way, what’s another two years delay? It couldn’t hurt to explore all the options a little before taking on the debt and work of a degree – could it? Wouldn’t it create the opportunity to explore different career paths while managing to get some of that partying stuff out of the way on weekends? And wouldn’t getting that partying and uncertainty out of the way allow for greater focus on studying and learning? And wouldn’t greater focus mean money well spent – rather than wasted? I think it would.

I know that some work places have “bring your kid to work” days, so they can see what you do to earn the family’s bread and butter, but how useful are those? Imagine this: being dragged to work by a parent, at a stage in your life when you find them most intolerable and embarrassing (and that’s often a two-way street), so you can watch them (sort of) do something that’s not the tiniest bit interesting to you, while you count down the seconds before you can leave.

Not terribly useful. But, working with adults who haven’t seen you flip out on a sibling, or get grounded for lying, or seen the state of your bedroom at home? That’s a fresh slate within a structured environment. It’s easier to learn from, and really pay attention to, someone who hasn’t got any dirt on you. Someone you don’t both love and loathe. It’s a chance to learn what a professional relationship is.

In addition to “grownup training”, I’d also suggest mandatory, weekly psychiatric sessions for at least the second year. A time to work through the crap-storm of being a teenager, to sort out the stuff that’s screwing you up so it doesn’t screw you over. A chance to start really becoming who you are without having to wait until your late 30′s to get there. A place where you can speak your mind without some adult grounding you for “being mouthy” because your opinion differed from theirs. A place to learn how to function in the “real” world.

We need to reevaluate how and when we send teenagers out into the world, and to university or college. Are they really prepared? Do they really know what they want for themselves? Do they know anything about who they are? Are we doing them any favours by forcing them to choose a life so early?

The education system needs to take a good hard look at what they’re really offering high school graduates these days because, from my own experience, it’s seems to be mostly shackles of debt, doubt and unhappiness.

Here are a few things the awful ads have in common:

• Misspelled words
• Excessive punctuation and/or use of the Caps Lock key
• Photos of messy, dirty, and/or damaged apartments
• Blurry, dark, and/or useless photos
• No photos at all (which I prefer over blurry, dark and/or useless)
• Lack of information (maps, prices, general neighbourhood/area, etc.)
• Misleading information
• Confrontational tone of voice

For example, this is very similar to one of the ads I looked at today:

$980. COOZY GRND. LVL. 1 BR APPT. FOR MAR. 1. SHARED LOUNDRY, NS, NP. IF U DONT LIEK KIDS OR DOGS…DONT BOTHER CALLING!!!! CALL AFTER 6 P.M. & ASK FOR LINDA OR STEVE. THX.

Ooh! It has a corner! We'll take it!

That ad, along with the useless photo, doesn’t make me giddy at the prospect of even seeing it, never mind living in it. Still there are lessons to be learned from this:

1. ‘Ground level’ (or, GRND. LVL.) is just fancy talk for,  ’basement suite’ – the windows will be small, high up, and may or may not open.
2. ‘Cozy’ is code for ‘very small/cramped/poorly laid out’.
3. Shared laundry – well, that’s obvious, but be prepared for them to have a schedule where you get the washer and dryer one day a week.
4. Any mention of kids and dogs means, “We didn’t insulate for noise, and we don’t want you bitching about it like the last tenant did.”

So, what should a good ad look like since I’m such a know it all? Well, like this:

1 bedroom in ground level suite of private home available for March 1st. $980/month.

Features:

• 650 sq. ft.
• 1 full bath
• Radiant floor heating (mix of hardwood and tile flooring)
• Full-sized kitchen appliances (no DW, sorry!)
• Private entrance
• Full access to backyard and the BBQ!
• W & D (shared)
• tenant responsible for 30% of Hydro (bill is averaged out, you pay same total ea. month)
• NS and NP

You are responsible for hookup of your own phone, Internet, cable TV, etc.

We’re located on the west side of Family Friendly Park in Awesomeville, only two blocks from the main bus route into downtown, and a 15 minute bus ride to grocery stores, shops and restaurants.

Please note that we are looking for a single tenant (or mature student) who doesn’t mind a little noise overhead – we have two dogs and two young and active children. Our dogs are friendly, but are not good with other people’s pets, and they can be a little territorial.

Call [phone number] anytime between 6 and 9:30 p.m. and ask for Linda or Steve – we look forward to showing you your new home!

Then, the ad would show pictures of the bedroom (the whole bedroom, not just a corner), the kitchen, the living room, and bathroom. These photos would all be well lit, include as much of the room as possible, and the rooms would be tidy. Bonus points for posting the dimensions of the living room and bedroom, so prospective tenants can figure out if their stuff would fit into the space.

Nearly everyone has a digital camera – even if it’s just their phone – and access to a computer. And, if you’re selling or renting something, you’re in a position to know all the details about the thing to be sold or rented – so why not share the details? Save yourself the hassle of answering inquiries from people who would never have called in the first place if you’d provided the details up front.

Joe and I have sold a few things on Craigslist (laptop bag, a living room set, a winter coat, and a stationary bike), complete with clear, detailed photos, dimensions, and even links to the original product where that was an option. I got quite a bit of the original price back in those sales, mostly because people could see exactly what they were getting – no surprises. If you want your asking price, make the effort to show why they should pay it.

Why do I care since I’m not actually looking to rent a place, or buy anything I’ve seen on Craigslist? Well, poorly written and badly explained sales pitches and ads annoy me. It irks me to see people who want to make money and/or get rid of something, do everything in their power to ensure they won’t make a dime or sell anything.

So, Craigslist posters, “coozy” up to a dictionary, learn to take a decent and reasonably meaningful photograph, and maybe – just maybe – someone will “liek” your posting enough to buy or rent whatever you’re offering!