“You got this.”
Do I? Says who, and by what authority? And was that nineteen-seventy-something double finger point necessary? It was amusing, yes. Was it dignified? Not at all.
Scanning my metro pass across the electronic reader barring me from the threshold of unrestricted, urban underground travel required a love tap to that tiny chip on my card for encouragement. It did not require emotional support.
My loathing for those three little words knows no bounds and I stand by my rancor–this phrase has been abused to the point of irrelevance and condescension, and more’s the pity.
I’m not protesting against the hip and the au courant, but I am questioning why such a convenient phrase inconveniences me. It’s efficient, brief, and jocular–three hallmarks of a successful catchphrase, so why the animosity?
Maybe it’s the lofty glibness that accompanies this phrase–maybe it’s overuse. By the time the media machine warmed to its presence it was already threadbare, its users as dubiously dressed as a forty-something intellectual sporting Mary Janes and a Courtney Love baby doll dress, replete with mascara stained cheeks 20 years post-relevance (yet likely more compelling than people who are always ‘on point’ or, God help us, ‘on fleek’, because they were too damn busy with aught else to chase the zeitgeist when the zeitgeist was at its zenith.)
Perhaps next time a dorky, double-thumbs-up-with-a-shit-eating-grin, mined from the era when Wayne and Garth were kind of hot (that they still might be is another issue altogether) will be issued along with that helping of inane encouragement, and why not? This catchphrase is hemorrhaging all relevance and the next time someone gratuitously tells me ‘you got this’ I may well respond with ‘ex-squeeze me? Sh-yeah, of course I got this–and so do most five year olds.”