Traditionally, young people come to the big city with a dream; then, when that dream inevitably fails to materialize, many of them move away to some smaller, more forgiving town and cry silently, years later, at what might have been. Now, the fucking tables have turned.
Who are the techno-serfs who work for peanuts assembling furniture, making deliveries, giving massages and preparing meals via odd job websites like TaskRabbit and Zaarly? They're surprisingly cheery folks who are unreasonably happy taking crap wages from strangers, if the Observer's investigation is to be believed.
In the olden days before the U.S. economy devolved into a pure gold-and-canned-goods bartering system, Wall Street guys were the ones who rented all the gaudy, overpriced good apartments. Now that Wall Street's been decimated, who will the real estate industry turn to, to unload all those new condos with "Wii rooms?"…
The New York Times announces the weddings. Phyllis Nefler pits the couples against each other in that weekly battle royale we call Altarcations. This week: Creative class cage match and a Real Housewives cameo.
Journalism training in Korea has all the hallmarks of a good reality show: Cub reporters must drink themselves silly, stay awake around the clock, sleep together, and stab one another in the back. It makes Columbia look like Coney Island.
Time Inc. has opened up a fantastic new market: charging its freelancers for the privilege of being paid for their work in a timely fashion.
Sean Hannity just apologized for running footage on his program yesterday that inflated the size of a crowd at some awful protest. And he gave props to Jon Stewart and "The Daily Show" for calling him out on it. But...
"Find A Mag Job When The Economy is Crap." How? Start teaching a class called "Find A Mag Job When The Economy is Crap," like Ed2010 founder Chandra Czape Turner. Cost of class: $150. Actual value of class: $0.
Weep, struggling members of the creative underclass, for your secret aspirations are drawing to a close: this may be the very last month of Conde Nast, Luxury Version. Coming soon: Conde Nast, Wailing Version.
Lest they offend their many laid off friends, anyone who's kept their job in print media will tell you they're one of "the lucky ones." But privately, survivors talk of the malaise sweeping medialand. This is one of them.
A homeless woman has landed a (coveted?) four-month internship with Elle magazine, proving that unemployed journalists need only fall a *little* farther to get "back in the game."
Starting tomorrow, assistants toiling away inside of the tumultuous WME talent agency will be dealt a 25-30 percent drop in their salaries. So how will Hollywood's well- dressed underclass survive on their food-service wages? Here are some friendly tips!
Meet Barbara Lavandeira, or, as she's known online, PerezHilton.com. She's actually pretty normal, when not pretending to be her brother.
Things have gotten so bad that unpaid corporate interns are literally starving. Across America, interns are desperately prostituting their fresh young smiling faces in return for a single box of Little Debbie muffins, so they may live another day.
Here's the thing about losing your journalism job and starting your own internet/freelance business: Suddenly you work, eat, sleep, drink and even exercise in one tiny space. Laura Rich almost went crazy.
Hearst is preparing to take the Seattle Post-Intelligencer online-only, the largest newspaper to make such a move. Pay and benefits are coming along for the ride.
The ongoing collapse of the American economy means middle-class college grads must behave like coddled aristocratic twits and secure internships through their parents' largesse.
Media elites call Anna Wintour's Vogue editorship stale, but after 20 years some in the creative underclass have grown attached. Or maybe, like Wintour, they've learned celebrities sell clothing.
New York magazine profiled seven city residents who lost their jobs in the economic meltdown. The most heartbreaking? That would be Marc Thomas, 44, failed dramatist.
MTV tacked on a $500 stocking stuffer to the final paychecks of those charity bloggers it was avoiding paying. Could it be the raunchy Viacom network believes in God? Or at least karma?
