Every day is La Dolce Vita if you’re Italian and unemployed

Slow living isn’t enchanting when you don’t have another option.

Ahhh, Italy. Picture authentic homestyle cooking, cobblestones, yellow houses, agricultural landscapes, daily gatherings at the local bar, slow living, and big traditional families. We studied for free, had caring parental figure/s, human-sized towns, free healthcare, no work in August, and cheap alcohol. But the Italian dream was nothing like this. We, as a generation, wanted a full-time contract, holiday on the beach, and maybe starting a family. Maybe.

Banking has always felt like a heroic quest. - Have you ever been called ‘whimsical’ twice in one day?

We had everything else, on paper.

We were all overqualified for a job and underqualified in life.

Most Millennials had two degrees and no career. Although, not by choice or vocation. We followed the intended study path without realising that most jobs were in big cities, didn’t pay anything for an internship, and required work experience not a piece of paper. So we studied more for a second piece of paper, unable to move out or gain workplace or life experience.

Was I the only one surfing the net back in the 00s and thinking that ‘XP’ was a cheeky laughing emoji with its tongue out? Really? Nobody else?

Everything felt precarious. Maybe the 2008 economic recession, and our parents, ingrained into us a mentality of scarcity. This is something

Caterina

explained well in a recent article. Cooking market produce at home was cheaper than restaurants or ready meals from big supermarkets. Meeting at the local bar for aperitivo meant not having to take the car out, and getting a free dinner with a drink and a chat sounded perfect. To my generation, it was easy to practice slow living and low consumption when surrounded by people in the same situation.

When you’re not hitting your adulting milestones, are you even an adult?

Those who experienced some autonomy and freedom, studying abroad or in another city, would know the feeling of reverting to a frozen dream-like state upon returning home after graduation¹. Our parents would never see us as adulting individuals and the State wouldn’t either. For the State, we were nonexistent in our 20s and useless until our 30s. We didn’t pay taxes or exorbitant school fees, and healthcare was free.

Living under your parents’ roof was not a choice, it was the only option.

Even after landing a job, the average salary for a young person in Italy was €1000 per month. Some had to stretch that money to include rent or commute. The ‘lucky ones’ might have had renovated pads near, or in, the family home. This practice turned adulting men into mammoni (mama’s boys) and subjected girls to old-fashioned homemaking values. Moving in with your fiance and getting married was the only way out.

Not all of us followed the endless academic path. Some started working on practical skills earning some money. Apprentices and interns would have gotten a contract and paid their taxes. They also accumulated working years toward their retirement age, which was new to me. Taxation systems were not part of our High School curriculum. But Italy was a land where cutting corners and being street-smart was the norm. Think dodgy employers and working ‘in nero’ for cash. Those who fell into this easy-money trap got to go on exotic vacations, but they still lived at home and Bob’s your uncle.

When a business accountant asked me if I wanted my employee leaving indemnity included in my paycheck I said yes without reading the fine print or knowing what that was. I didn’t care. It was almost happy hour and I had friends to meet.

Not me, living la dolce vita, drinking every time I still don’t have a job in my home country. Courtesy of Canva PRO.

If a full-time job was the Italian dream, owning property was the Aussie one.

Me: “Let me get it right: on average, Australians would pay taxes, sacrifice towards their Super, pay rent and bills and live with what’s left in their monthly cheque?”

The Boyfriend: “There’s also saving for a house down payment, health insurance, extinguishing any credit card or student debt, and childcare if you have kids. Plus car-related expenses if you drive.”

I’ve learned that extinguishing debt was a big ticket item in Australia. University here was expensive and it took people until their 40s to pay it off. Banks were, unfortunately, in on the scam. The main four Australian banks visited schools not to bring squirrel calendars, but to sell credit cards, putting people into debt for big engagement parties and trips to Bali.

If doctors couldn’t get us, nor would the evil eye (or the tax people)!

Health insurance in Italy, was an apple a day, or even better a glass of red wine and gesturing horns when seeing a hearse.

The boyfriend told me that, in Australia, there was this thing called Superannuation which is a percentage of your income that your employer must pay towards your retirement. I’ve never heard of anything like this in Italy. I’ve also never really worked in Italy or contemplated staying there until retirement.

I thought that’s what taxes were for? I wish I knew more about taxes in Italy. Actually, Italian bureaucracy is horrible, so maybe not. After all, what difference would it make? The running joke is that no Millennial would ever be able to retire alive.

I was still living on the holiday part of my Australian working-holiday VISA.

The official rules of my stay were: I could live in Australia for 1 year and work for up to 6 months under one employer. Up to 2 jobs back-to-back was the best-case scenario. I could also extend my stay for an extra year by working 6 months in Rural or Remote agricultural areas.

All considered, I thought I was in a pretty good position: no bills, no kids, no insurance, no mortgage, no debt, international medicare agreement… But the idea of manual labour away from the city was scary.

Scarier than having to interview for jobs in a foreign language, if you asked me.

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Directly from the archives, please enjoy this authentic photographic evidence:

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I found a job right after Uni but didn't know it was a scam

New Year’s resolution? With Mercury retrograde I need dark magick, not wishful thinking

1. Do you remember Rory in ‘A Year in the Life’? When she’s back home but stubbornly repeats that she’s not back? Of course, she was back, we all came back. We all were the 30-something gang.