Sorting out the Yuppies


I was recently confronted by this sign as I pulled into the Angorichina Tourist Village in the Flinders Ranges of South Australia – see  You probably know that a yuppie is a “Young Urban Professional” or a “Young Upwardly-mobile Professional”.

Since I felt there was no chance that I’d be assessed as “young”, the risk of my not being welcome seemed rather remote. (However, I did have to pause and check that I was “real”.) Anyway, the chap in the shop served me without any hesitation, so that was good. But I did find myself wondering, if I’d passed the “young” test, what other attributes might have put me in the yuppie category, and hence rendered me unwelcome. In other words, how can you pick a yuppie?

What sort of things would yuppies do – or not do – that might upset the management at Angorichina?  Please use the “Comment” button below to tell us.


About dazzlerplus

Writing about the things that interest me helps me to discover what I think. One of my loves is the Australian Outback, and I travel out there often, and when possible take friends with me.
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7 Responses to Sorting out the Yuppies

  1. Anne Newton says:

    Obviously one would not want to be rude or arrogant, opinionated or judgemental. Whinging couldn’t be tolerated and complaints about the lack of air conditioning, the standard of the food and the room appointments would also be unwelcome. On the other hand, a kind face with a generous smile would probably go a long way. 😉

  2. Carmel Alifano says:

    Love it.

    Sent from my iPad

  3. Jo says:

    Ask for a soy chai latte half decaff espresso?…or whatever it is. As one who doesn’t drink coffee I can never understand the foreign language the coffee yuppies use!
    I’m with Anne, a kind face and a smile go a long way.

    • dazzlerplus says:

      I agree, Jo. I think if you asked for that at Angorichina, they’d probably set the dogs onto you! Reminded me of an earlier post on this blog (“What’s Kosher on the Camp Fire?”, Feb 18, 2014), where a bloke got shot for grilling zucchini on his camp fire.

  4. At the risk of repeating myself, in part at least, some years ago, we were ticking along the Lassiter Hwy to Uluru. We had enough fuel to get there to fill up. Just about half way to there from Curtin Springs, a young guy flagged us down. He’d run out of fuel.

    Figuring we’d be best off taking him back to Curtin Springs, we learned, on the way, that he was a usamerican who’d been to a conference in Sydney and had two or three days to himself before heading home. So he decided to see the sunset at Ayers Rock, as you do with three free days out of Sydney.

    He picked up his hire car at Alice and was going to take the hirers to task as they had advised him that a full tank was plenty to get to the Rock. It was clear that they did not advise him that that required him to travel, in Drive, at or below the speed limit. Indeed, he said he would go complain to the cops.

    I advised against it, suggesting that for him to run out of fuel where he did, would allow them to estimate his fuel consumption which would indicate his speed of travel which would have defined that whilst he might have been traveling at the posted limit, he was reading it as miles, not kilometers, per hour.

    He got his fuel, we got ours. We dropped him back at his car and helped refuel it. He returned to Curtin Springs with the rented Jerry Can and we did not see him back at Uluru.

    Thankfully, some years ago, I had the good fortune to pick up two young female usamerican hitchhikers in a storm, in Cornwall. I guess they were in their late teens or early twenties. We pitched our tents together for a couple of days. They were hiking and hitching their way around the UK. They had walked, they said, the Appalachian Trail and it was easy to imagine they had walked it all. They are the sort of Yanks that I keep to my bosom, distinct from the abovementioned guy who, methinks, would fit the definition of Yuppie. You don’t want the likes of them knocking at your door, complaining there’s no Twitter.

    But I do cringe at the sign’s message. In my book, kindness and generosity wins the day.

  5. The thing I hate to hear is “there’s nothing to do here.” I’ve heard that complaint from various folks in a wide range of locales across Australia, always in places that had splendid scenery or wonderful bushwalking options or terrific bird watching or similar delights. Sad, really — if they can’t find delight in beauty, life must be pretty grim for them.

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