Giving a little bit

By the time I had learned about Cyber Monday, it was already three in the afternoon, and most retailers had been raided heavily for hours. I didn’t realize that the physical consumer gorging of Black Friday now formally precedes an online one, but I guess it makes sense. If discounts are enough to make people get up at four in the morning, then discounts you can get whilst wrapped in a comforter must be the stuff of dreams.

You’d think that two pseudo-holidays would be enough, but thanks to my grandmother, I also learned about a third: Giving Tuesday. While lacking in alliteration and altogether antithetical to the consumerism that defines this time of year, Giving Tuesday stands out. Given that I’m usually the last one to these sorts of parties and that the namesake is fairly self-explanatory, the meaning behind Giving Tuesday should be fairly obvious. Nonetheless, this new holiday is, in the words of its founders, about "a global day of giving fueled by the power of social media and collaboration.”

While the Internet might still be (rightly) infatuated with videos of Frank Beamer hitting the dab, it is Giving Tuesday that should take the center stage after a week of turkey comas and Wal-Mart riots. My grandma often says that true happiness comes from giving, and while riding Chicago’s L-Train yesterday on my way to the airport, I found myself time and again thinking about just how much a little extra can mean.

Somewhere between Rogers Park and downtown, I found myself sitting next to a woman no older than 30. Bundled far more appropriately than I for the windy weather, she was texting feverishly back and forth with, presumably, her boyfriend or husband. I shouldn’t have been spying, and as soon as my eyes began to wander, I regretted it. After badgering her recipient about scheduling a much-needed doctor’s appointment, she wrote, “Good luck today. Let me know if you find a job.” Before I pried my eyes away, she added, yet again, “Good luck :-).”

That struck me. There was something poignant about that text message—something that illustrated real need. It probably read on her face, but it seemed like finding that job wasn’t just a matter of time, but rather a matter of if. I’m sure I’m not the only one who’s passed someone begging for change on the subway, and more often than not those people are met with an averted gaze. In this case, I had taken an uninvited peek into the life of the woman next to me, and the more I think about it, the less surprised I am at what I saw.

As a senior with only a semester left at Duke, employment is something that rarely escapes the minds of my peers. Many have their postgraduate prospects locked up, and those that don’t greet the topic with some combination of trepidation, excitement and introspection. Above all else though, there is surety—a surety that ultimately, somewhere, there will be a job.

I knew that this isn’t normal—that the jobs Duke graduates are inevitably assured of will remain out of reach for millions of Americans who’ve been hunting for them. But so too are the Black Fridays and Cyber Mondays. Every now and again the Duke bubble pops, and more often than not leaving me feeling like I just got bubble gum all over my face. Not yesterday, though. Reading those text messages, upsetting as they were, left me thinking sharply about how to take a pinch of my opportunity and send it back someone else’s way.

Giving Tuesday seems like a good place to start. Coming off a miserable attempt at a mustache for Movember, my conviction in the power of giving has been renewed this new holiday. It doesn’t have to be a four-figure check to be effective, and that’s the beauty. Whether its facial hair or a few cents, philanthropy can be fun, easy and effective.