Greetings, graduates!

It’s a gorgeous day out here on the Quad, and I’d like to thank the deans and the president of the university for inviting me to speak to you today.

Or, I would thank them had they invited me. To be honest, I’ve never been invited to give a commencement speech, another sign of the decline of America’s once-great institutions of higher learning. But on the theory that it’s always good to be prepared, I’ve given the task a lot of thought.

Like all of us, I’ve read a bunch of these things. I studied the remarks Jerry Seinfeld recently delivered to the graduating class at Duke University. They were thoughtful and amusing, of course, but also apparently incendiary enough that some students walked out in protest. Harrison Butker, the kicker for the Super Bowl champion Kansas City Chiefs, spoke at the commencement ceremony at Benedictine College in Atchison, Kansas. Maybe you’ve read about that? He made some controversial points about men, women, the Roman Catholic Church, in vitro fertilization, and a lot of other things. The people who heard the speech are reported to have enjoyed it. Some of the people who read about it later weren’t so thrilled.

But that’s to be expected. It’s a difficult needle to thread. On the one hand, you want to say something important and memorable. On the other hand, it’s usually a hot day, and people are sitting outside in black plastic robes that absorb the sun’s heat. The graduates are sweaty and sticky. Their parents are exhausted and broke from four years of endless expenses and the constant fear of seeing their offspring on CNN, shouting nonsense on the university quad or claiming to be part of a “Queers for …” something or other group.

In other words, they can’t all be George Marshall’s speech to the Harvard graduating class of 1947. In that unforgettable speech, the then-secretary of state described the crisis of a shattered and chaotic postwar Europe and how necessary it was for America to take a leading role in putting the pieces of the continent back together. To the class of 1947, it was supposed to be just another commencement speech. To the rest of the world, though, it became known as the Marshall Plan. And to the American taxpayer, it slowly became understood as an endless, bottomless, never-ending tab they were responsible for.

My plan is to steer my remarks somewhere in the middle of those two extremes. I will neither opine on current and cultural matters nor will I propose a global scheme that will result in a $34 trillion national debt. Instead, I will remind graduates of three basic and undeniable truths.

One: There’s no better feeling than having money in the bank. It’s a universal mental health guarantee and the quickest way to take charge of your life. Cash money in a boring old savings account will cure your anxieties, give you a great night’s sleep, and make you sexier.

Two: The trick to succeeding at your first job is to make sure that you get in a little earlier and stay a little later than everyone else. And to keep your mouth mostly shut when you’re there. Being available when you’re needed sends the message to your bosses that you can be relied upon. Being silent will unnerve your colleagues and midlevel supervisors. It’s not a bad thing for those people to worry that you’re up to something. 

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And three: When you come to the top of the stairs in the subway or airport, move to the side. This is the simplest way to make the world a better place instantly. When you find yourself tempted to lecture someone (probably someone older) about pronouns or sustainability or the evils of capitalism, ask yourself this: Did I move quickly to the side when I got out of the subway? The answer is probably no, so keep it shut until the answer is yes. And even when the answer is yes, it’s still a terrific idea to keep it zipped. 

My commencement address, I realize, will be on the shorter side. The various provosts and deans might feel a little shortchanged when the whole thing is wrapped up in 15 minutes, but I am convinced that the sweltering graduates and the exhausted parents will be grateful the whole thing is over, which is the entire point of the ceremony.

Rob Long is a television writer and producer, including as a screenwriter and executive producer on Cheers, and he is the co-founder of Ricochet.com.