“I work for a non-profit.” Or something.

Now, it might be unique to 20-somethings in this day and age (Obamanation?), or it may simply be San Francisco's overly liberal nature...but it seems like whenever I meet someone new and we get to the "so, what do you do for work?" part of the conversation, nine people out of ten say "Oh, I work for a non-profit." And that's supposed to be enough. Or important. Or something.

As someone who has worked for many non-profits, I find this ambiguous classification of profession profoundly annoying. Can't we be more specific? I mean, my first "non-profit" job involved opening the door of our town's tiny museum every morning at 10am, setting out the guestbook, and locking the door again at 6pm. I was eight years old. I made $5 each week. In high school, I worked as a lifeguard at our municipal pool. Technically, the town is a non-profit entity, ergo my hours spent working on my tan and perfecting the art of toe-nail painting was...for...good? It certainly wasn't for profit.

Had I been asked in 1990 or 1997 what I did for work (if conversing with my third or tenth grade selves), I probably wouldn't have answered "I work for a non-profit." Now, however, I'm not so sure. In fact, if I were still working for the municipal pool, I might just cave and vaguely state my dot-org status.

This may have something to do with me, personally. Since the days of penmanship assessment and Hard Candy nail polish, I have continued to labor away in the name of not-for-profit profit. Whether it be teaching at a private school (technically non-profit...but not really), handing out birth control at Planned Parenthood (again, at least partially non-profit), grant-writing for African women's groups (definitely non-profit for non-profits), or placing college students in internships with North Indian grassroots organizations (non-profit for non-profits again, although in the interest of those-with-profit, too), the dot-org remained consistent on my career path and the paths of those around me. Far more interesting than me, I have friends who have worked for "classic" non-profits (Habitat for Humanity, TFA), huge conglomerate-like non-profits (The Sierra Club, the WHO), fancy private schools (University, Urban, Middlefield), and tiny start-up non-profits (names are a little irrelevant here).

The only unifying characteristics of these seem to be: 1) 501 C 3 status (?) and a .org web address; 2) eager young liberal arts graduates desperate to expend their energy and share their do-gooder status (spirit?) with whomever they met in a bar over the weekend.

What does it mean to "work at a non-profit" and why does that phrase roll so easily off the tongue? Is it that "non-profit" is simpler and more succinct than "capacity-building grassroots green energy firm" or that "non-profit" sounds more bleeding heart and hardcore than "upper middle class $30K kindergarten for boys"? Has non-profit come to encompass a spectrum greater than being involved in "real estate" or "finance" or "hospitality"?


And more importantly, how will non-profit work change with the Obama administration's emphasis on "service"? Particularly paired with the impacted budgets of the federal government, the state of California, and the city of San Francisco? Will the non-profit categorization continue to grow and be used incessantly (and eventually become mundane), or will it turn rare and exotic as organizations have less money to hire people? Why is "non-profit" work different (better? worse?) than "volunteer" work or "philanthropy"? Or even "service"?

I don't think there is one correct answer to any of these musing questions, but I do think it is our generation's responsibility to understand the root meaning of the phrases and categories we form and label ourselves with. "I work for a non-profit" may be the answer to millions of 20-somethings' professional queries, but in order for that to have meaning, details seem...ummm...necessary.

The Wine Cult

So...as promised...an in-depth analysis of Two Buck Chuck.

Called "a brand of extreme value," Two Buck Chuck is a cute and catchy nickname for Charles Shaw wine, which used to be found for a whopping $1.99 at Trader Joe's grocery stores throughout California. It now averages $2.99 in California and $3.99-$4.99 in other states (damn the cost of trucking), but luckily the price change doesn't affect the rhyme. And unlike other forms of dirt-cheap alcohol (think Mickey's...Old E...wine in a box...) Charles Shaw is not only palatable, it can be quite good (and certainly leaves you with a milder headache the next morning).

Don't try to find "Charles Shaw Vineyards" or "Charles Shaw Tasting Rooms" in Napa or Sonoma, because the trick to the low price is the fact that Charles Shaw is actually made with a combination of other vineyards' surplus grapes and wines. Back in the old days (circa 1980) there was a Charles Shaw winery, but in a shocking twist of ironic fate the place went out of business and the name was purchased by the Franzia family (aka the barrons of box wine).

Since 2002, Mr. Franzia has been selling Charles Shaw exclusively to Trader Joe's. Apparently he's taken great pleasure in his ability to drastically undercut all other table wines while simultaneously "tricking" tasters at the California State Fair to vote Chuck the Best Chardonnay Ever. Or something. However, regardless of his abilities, the man is clearly good at his job - he's selling somewhere around 5 million cases of wine each year and the numbers keep rising. The guy has his eye his next target - Walmart. He's in negotiations for a ginormous contract with the Lifeblood of Middle America. Chances are, that'll make him more money.

Here's a paragraph from a piece on Mr. Franzia on CNN: "Hating pretentiousness isn't just a business plan. It's Franzia's entire identity. His office is a wood-paneled trailer with carpet holes repaired with duct tape that looks like it might house the night manager of a troubled dude ranch. He uses his cell phone only in his car, and he has no computer; his assistant prints out his e-mail messages in the morning, and he handwrites his responses on them."

What a guy. What a wine. What a marketing strategy. I dig.

Trader Joe for President

Living in San Francisco forces a young 20-something to reconcile a low budget with overwhelming options for food shopping. Every neighborhood has it's own corner stores, and there's usually a Safeway nearby (with a clever nickname, depending on your coordinates)...there's Whole Foods (3!), there's Good Life Grocery and Real Food and Andronico's and Bristol Farms...not to mention the weekly farmer's markets at the Ferry Building, Alemany, Fillmore, UN Plaza...and then there are delis and butchers and "specialty" food stores...in summary, San Francisco has no shortage of places where vittles can be purchased.

If you had the spare time (and spare energy...and extra gas/Muni fare...), I'm sure you could calculate which place has the cheapest produce (Alemany farmer's market), and which has the nicest-but-least-expensive fish/meat (Whole Foods? A butcher?), and where the largest quantities of affordable basics (likely Safeway or -awful- CostCo), and then haul yourself around (environmentally friendly tote bags in tow) and collect your meal fixings for the week. But 3+ hours and umpteen amounts of parking stress later, you will likely wish you had simply made your way to Trader Joe's.

Ahh, Trader Joe's. The Shangri-la of trail mix and dried fruit options, the frozen food capital of the world, home to a gazillion different brands of cereal and energy bars -- basically a one-stop-shop for essentials to stock a 20-something's shared kitchen (with a final receipt that is easy on the eyes). But the crowning glory, the piece d'resistence of TJ's, is the existence of Two Buck (now ~ Three Buck) Chuck. Where else in the world can you stock your wine cellar (okay, your fridge door) with decent Chardonnays and passable Pinot Gris for under $10?

So resist the urge to waste your time at Safeway (the branch on Mission and 29th frequently runs out of food), and try not to blow your rent at Whole Foods (it's so good and so $much$), and instead, bike, walk, or take public transportation (hehe - or drive if you have to, I usually do) to Trader Joe's.

Stay tuned next time for the exact etiology of Charles Shaw...a quarter life chronicle that deserves a post of its own.

Origins

Upon entering my late-20s, I find myself occasionally experiencing angst about my early- and mid-20s. Whenever said angst comes up in conversation with other late-20-somethings/early-30-somethings, unifying factors and universal truths emerge...

Regardless of geographic location, chosen profession, or exact age, it appears that the ~8 years following the "butterfly" emergence from the chrysalis of college are at times, surprisingly caterpillar-like.

So, for all of the caterpillars out there - QLC - the Quarter Life Chronicles.