We see them all the time. On television, newscasters nod deferentially while Very Serious People tell us what to believe. On the street, we see them wearing their suits, scowls on their faces, always running off to their next Powerpoint Presentation. Who are these mysterious people? Why are they always so miserable and guarded? I want to shatter through the walls of bureaucracy surrounding them, give them a great big hug and tell them: “It’s okay! You can lighten up a little, Mr. Pundit!”
The Very Serious Person is usually on the older side of life. Whether his solemn gravity ages his body prematurely, or whether that gravity is the result of decades of being beat up by the dirty hippies he resents so much, the world may never know. He is easily offended, which might explain the perpetual scowl on his face. If he weren’t wearing the fancy suit and tie, you’d almost be tempted to say he had some kind of attitude problem, but since he’s wearing the suit and you’re not, the problem must be your own. In fact, maybe that’s why he’s so offended by you, it’s your attitude. It almost makes you wonder why he’s talking at your graduation ceremony in the first place. He obviously doesn’t fit in, who invited him anyway? Oh, right, his Very Serious Friend who happens to be the school president.
I suppose it must be nice to be the Very Serious Person. Her status as such entitles her to special consideration from other VSP’s, who coincidentally happen to hold many important positions in society. When it comes down to it, her word will be given at least equal weight, if not more, to that of an actual scientist in whatever field is under discussion. Whether it’s the origin of species, foreign policy, law, medicine, or economics, a fancy degree is nice but it’s nothing compared to a fancy tie and a Serious Facial Expression. Our civilization has advanced past Sacred Cows, so instead we have Sacred Suits.
At least they “act their age”, even if nobody else their age does.
I feel sympathy for the poor darlings. I want to rescue them from their meetings, their PowerPoint Presentations, their suits. I want to play volleyball with them and eat ice cream with them and bring out the inner child they’re trying so desperately to smother and suffocate on TV and on the golf course. Mr. Business Suit, if you’re reading this, we accept you just the way you are! You’ve done it, you’ve proved it all, you can lighten up a bit now and have some fun! You’ve made enough money, you’ve given enough speeches, you’ve successfully reached your quotas, congratulations! We never meant you to take everything so seriously in the first place– that was just something your high school counselor told you so you’d stop bothering her! You’re grown up now. Nobody cares if you [insert fun, immature behavior here], except your fellow Very Serious People, and you know, they’ve got problems of their own!
FURTHER READING
Seven Signs we Live in a Dystopia
Reality Escapes
You might be a prescriptivist if…