Last summer, soon after I finished writing _Generation Me_, my (home) phone rang at 9am on a Sunday morning. The caller asked for Dr. Twenge, and I cautiously said "Yes?" It was a high school age girl. "My name is X, and Y [someone I had never heard of] at SDSU is a friend of our family. He said you might be able to help me with my school project on Z." Still not really understanding what was going on, I asked her to repeat what she said. I then said, "It's Sunday, and I'm at home. Could you e-mail me about this? That would be much better."
Sure enough, an e-mail was waiting for me on Monday morning, asking for help with the project. As you might imagine, my schedule is pretty full already, so I sent her two of my research articles that addressed many of her questions (and which, I might add, could have been easily found in the university library).
A year later, I am still somewhat agape at the entitlement, and some might say rudeness, inherent in this interaction (the calling at home on a Sunday, in addition to the general problem that I should not be doing high school projects for students who should do them themselves.) Or was she just completely clueless? Or clueless in her entitlement?