Twentysomething employees seem to be a getting a bad rap.
If everything we read or hear is to be believed, this is a portrait of the Singaporean as a young worker: We change jobs more often than Imelda Marcos used to change shoes. Nothing our bosses do can satisfy us. We are easily sold to the highest bidder.
We are not content to climb the corporate ladder any more: We want to get on the express lift -- and one with a view, thank you very much.
Depending which side of the employers' fence you sit on, this group of employees consists of opportunistic young punks taking advantage of kindly bosses or, at best, blind followers of a Singapore phenomenon: upgrading.
We end up looking like a herd of unruly condominium shoppers storming into one show flat after another to choose apartments that are suddenly going cheap.
Bosses try to figure out why we leave perfectly good organisations: they think we want more money for next to nothing; fast promotions; and employers that treat us like royalty.
All right, I will concede that some of us hunt for the best bargains and look at jobs as a series of lucrative stepping stones. Raised in a competitive environment, winning the race becomes all important -- and sometimes, we look for shortcuts.
Still, young employees are not a homogenous group. Most of us realise that playing musical jobs hurts us in the long run. So we go into the work force prepared to pay our dues -- even if it means constant 12- to 15-hour work days with little recognition or ackowledgement.
But we are different from our older colleagues. Financial rewards, on their own, are not enough anymore.
When we are asked to "jump", we could well say, "convince us", before asking "how high?", if we say that at all. We look at the price older people have paid to get where they are -- the hours, the political manoeuvring, the time away from their families, and question if it's worth it.
A lawyer friend describes some of her peers as luxury-car owers who are puffy-eyed and pudgy from being over-worked and under-exercised. Her bosses, too, are no inspiration. Many are lifeless souls trapped in jobs they merely tolerate, obeying bosses they despise, and have no life outside the office and nearby pub.
There's also disillusionment. Says one 24-year-old: "Companies hire you because you're young and cheap and then they milk you for all you're worth." This is aggravated when something we try to suggest appears to be brushed aside.
Try to advise changes to bosses and the reply may be: "If you don't like it, the door is that way."
Some move on because they want to broaden their horizons.
Phillip, a 33-year-old former civil servant, recently took a 50 per cent pay cut to become a lawyer. He was becoming stymied in his old job, he said. Inertia had blunted his urge to compete and learn. His new job forced him into new situations constantly. When work became a habit, it was time to move.
Are we unrealistic? Are we too demanding? Perhaps. Then again, would people now in their 40s and 50s have done any differently in the same situation? Are we just making the choices our parents did not have?
Let's face it, a good economy and full employment are facts of life. We have a more educated populace with higher expectations. We have a higher standard, as well as cost of living. Bred to compete, people are going to fight for the best deal they can.
And at this moment, the younger workers are probably in the best position to do that. Not only are they more trainable and mobile, they also cost less to hire than their more senior colleagues. So some of us move on.
Poor bosses -- can't live with us, can't shoot us. To be fair, many of my older colleagues, at least, are trying to understand the situation and work with us. Some realise that it is unrealistic to treat us the way their bosses probably treated them.
They realise they have to create an environment conducive enough for us to stay on. So is there anything anyone can do to keep us, short of bringing on a recession so we cannot move so easily? I wish I knew.
A 24-year-old naval officer said he was lucky enough to stay interested in his job because he kept getting rotated and learning new things. Maybe another alternative for management is to accept that people are going to move eventually. In the meantime, companies can hone their employees' skills and get the best out of them, or review the way the organisation is run.
Then again, maybe none of the above will work. Maybe young people just feel the restless need to move on.
For all our differences, young workers still have some things in common with older ones -- ambition and drive.
My brother Kenneth, who is not quite 22, had it planned since he was five. After a brief spell of wanting to be a garbage collector, he decided he wanted to work in Shenton Way.
In university, he made sure he had a list of pedigreed interships under his belt, working for American and British-based financial institutions. He is so focused that even if he chose to be a garbage collector, he would end up building a commercial waste-management company -- and getting it listed on the stock exchange.
He keeps himself inspired by breathing in other people's signs of success. Driving home from lunch with me last Saturday, he said: "The BMW in the corner house is out today. Only the Porsche is left."
"Why are you so interested in their cars?" I asked. Because, he said, it was an exercise to remind him that he wants to succeed. And that he has to work hard and work smart.
"Plus when you have a car like that," he said, grinning, "the babes come free."