In Defense of Gen Z
On rational impatience
I have to think that when the earliest cavemen peered out upon the savannah with their cave-sons and cave-daughters in tow, about to embark on some sort of hunt or food-gathering endeavor, the cave-parents and cave-grandparents observed their young ones with various levels of bemusement, annoyance, and frustration—about the way they carried their spears, how they rolled out of their cave beds, or with regard to their questionable level of exertion at chasing antelope across the plains. And the young cavepeople probably reacted with just as much consternation and confusion toward the elder generation, even amid the inherent pulls of familial love and intergenerational mutual dependency.
So, too, has it remained through to today. The older generation is always skeptical of the one that follows. Here in the United States, the Greatest Generation (born 1901–1927) and the Silent Generation (born 1928–1945) were made up of people molded by the sacrifices required during multiple world wars and the Great Depression, periods followed by a decade of conformity and stability during the early Cold War. These older generations had a hard time relating to Baby Boomers and Gen X, as cultural and social values moved away from those that marked their earlier years.
Similarly, Boomers and Gen X have typically been skeptical of the music, movies, and, most notably, the technology of their children and grandchildren. “Millennial” has long been used by older generations as informal, dismissive shorthand for a person in an office setting, other workplace, or society writ large who just doesn’t quite get it—someone distracted by technology and of questionable work ethic.
The oldest Millennials (typically defined as those born between 1981 and 1996) are turning 44 this year—hardly an age associated with naivety or flippancy in the workplace, though. Millennials now hold 71 out of the 535 voting seats in Congress, with that number bound to increase every cycle. Notably, Maxwell Frost, a Democrat representing Orlando, Florida, and its surrounding communities, was born in 1997 and is the first member of Gen Z elected to Congress. So the younger generations are stepping into leadership, regardless of how those who came before feel about it.
I am what many would call an “elder Millennial,” born in 1983, but I relate more closely to a tongue-in-cheek “microgeneration” known as the Oregon Trail Generation, which is a term for those born in a tight window of time in the late 1970s and early 1980s. We OTGers have memories and formative experiences from both pre- and post-internet worlds. We had computers in the home, but not until later. We dialed into America Online and waited for the modem to connect. We were the first to use AIM. Our parents may have had the first car phones, and then we were among the first with cell phones. We’re too old to fully relate to most Millennials, and too young to identify with Gen X. If you remember hunting buffalo and dying of dysentery before reaching the Willamette Valley, you might be part of the Oregon Trail Generation, too.
But I digress. Much like the older generations before me, I have to be mindful of my own judgments and biases towards Gen Z and—soon behind them—Generation Alpha (born 2010–present), a band of births which includes my own kids.
Common, stereotypical gripes with Gen Z are that they are always on their screens, incapable of face-to-face interaction, and not great with follow-through or attention to detail. I’m obviously painting with broad strokes here. Some of these categorizations, I think, actually have more than an air of truth. Gen Z is the first generation to be fully formed in a saturated technological environment, and the COVID-19 pandemic—which shut down schools, sports, activities, and many more aspects of human interaction—disrupted their development at a crucial stage.
But there’s one aspect of the younger generation that I’ve gained more empathy for in recent years, and that’s the widespread perception that these young people are impatient. You hear it all the time in the workplace: someone hired for an entry-level role in February wants a promotion in March; a true beginner making $20/hour asks for $30; a 26-year-old has job-hopped four times in as many years, citing restlessness and ambition (not bad qualities in a person, to be sure, but leading to questions about commitment).
But here’s the thing that I think actually helps justify the impatience: people under the age of, say, 35 are living in a different economy than the rest of us. This bifurcated economy has led to much of the impatience and frustration we see among young adults today.
Consider the world Gen Z has come up in. Many were babies when September 11th happened, but grew up in a world marked by global strife and terrorism. They have lived through the Great Recession as children, and then came of age in a period of time marked by rapidly rising prices, including costs for homes and rent, the global pandemic, and political turmoil.
Perhaps some lucky ones bought homes before 2021, when prices surged, or before 2023, when interest rates rose (with no meaningful relief in prices—not yet, anyway). But most did not. According to a recent Redfin report, just 26% of Gen Z adults (born after 1996) own homes, compared to nearly 80% of Baby Boomers. Moreover, only 33% of 27-year-olds own their homes today, versus 40% of Boomers when they were the same age. Most of those older homeowners have also seen massive appreciation in their home values over the past decade, gains that most among the younger generations have missed out on.
And it’s not just the price of homes. Rents have also climbed sharply. The cost of education skyrocketed throughout the 2000s and 2010s. Healthcare, too, is more expensive. And while the stock market has nearly doubled in value since 2000, few members of Gen Z—or many Millennials—have participated meaningfully in that growth. Sure, they may contribute to a 401(k) and dabble in Vanguard or Robinhood, but they are not achieving the kind of wealth-building velocity that comes from compound interest on large balances. Consider this: $1 million in a broad S&P 500 portfolio at the start of 2023 would be worth around $1.4 million today, a gain of $400,000 in just over two years; a $25,000 account invested the same way would be worth about $35,000. The percentage gain is the same, but the real-dollar difference is enormous.
So what—you might say. The younger generation needs to pay their dues, save their own money, and start climbing the same ladders older generations did before them. Fair enough. But many of those ladders—pensions, affordable homes, long-term job security—are now broken, rare, or more difficult to access without an initial base of resources.
So What to Make of It All?
So what of the impatience? I’ve seen restlessness among the younger generation firsthand. But my view on this has shifted. I no longer see this restlessness as immaturity, entitlement, or some form of intergenerational protest. Instead, I see it as a rational response to an economy that feels stacked against them.
To be sure, there’s a professional way to advocate for more responsibility or better compensation, and some young workers could benefit from understanding timing and context. But the desire to advance, earn more, and have greater flexibility is entirely reasonable in an environment where everything costs more, and it's harder than ever to save, invest, buy a home, and enjoy life—all at the same time. It’s extremely difficult to make it on a single income these days, too, so while the traditional single-earning household is not for everyone, for some it still is an admirable and worthy goal, and those couples/families are bound to feel particularly stretched these days.
One final thought, and here’s where my elder Millennial bias shows: Gen Z is also navigating something older generations didn’t have to deal with—at least not to the same extent—and that is the ubiquity of social media (although people of all ages now fall into the trap I am about to describe below).
Social media intensifies financial comparison. It broadcasts curated lifestyles, wealth, and success, often devoid of context. The pressure to “keep up” is relentless, especially for those spending more time online, and that pressure fuels dissatisfaction with slower career growth or perceived stagnation. I believe this is why so many people feel acutely frustrated with their professional and financial circumstances these days; they are constantly bombarded with those carefully curated comparisons of those who are seemingly living and doing better.
Millennials and others haven’t been totally immune from this phenomenon, though. Pop culture critics have pointed out that the characters in Friends and Sex and the City lived in apartments that would have far exceeded what they could realistically afford. Shows like these created distorted economic expectations that may have contributed to our own feelings of inadequacy or frustration.
With all that in mind, we older Americans (and yes, I count myself among them as a member of the Oregon Trail Generation) should show more patience and compassion toward Gen Z and the rising Generation Alpha. The impatience is real, but it’s coming from a rational place. And after all it’s hard to grow up—especially the first time around.
Ben Sprague lives and works in Bangor, Maine as a Senior V.P./Commercial Lending Officer for Damariscotta-based First National Bank. He previously worked as an investment advisor and graduated from Harvard University in 2006. Ben can be reached at ben.sprague@thefirst.com or bsprague1@gmail.com.
Weekly Round-Up
Here are a few things that caught my eye this week:
Just this past Friday, President Trump signed a resolution to overturn a Biden Administration rule that would have capped bank overdraft fees at $5. Read more via Banking Dive.
New Housing Starts in April were running at an annualized, seasonally-adjusted rate of 1.361 million, down modestly from 1.385 million a year ago April, and continuing an easing, downward trend from April 2022. See the data at FRED.
The S&P is now positive for the year, with much of the losses in the immediate aftermath of the Trump Tariff announcements having been regained. I expect more volatility to come, but I will reiterate what I said at the beginning of April on this topic, which is that there are a lot of monied and powerful interests who have a stake in the status quo, and the most likely scenario is a softening of stances around the world (including by Trump) and either the implementation of a watered-down tariff regime, or a continuation of the aforementioned status quo of trade and supply chains around the world.
Something to listen to: my 11-year-old and I enjoyed listening to the How I Built This podcast episode about Todd Graves of Raising Cane’s (a fast food restaurant specializing in chicken fingers). We don’t have any Raising Cane’s here in Maine, but I bet we will someday. Find it here or wherever you get your podcasts.
Have a great week, everybody!
Well said. A nuanced argument on an important topic is rare to read these days. — an Elder Millennial
From what I’ve observed, younger people don’t save and are much more liberal with their money than many of the older ones. My kids were born in the late 90s. Many that age and younger expect to have newer cars, nice things, eat out, etc. In my generation it was very unusual for someone to have a new car. Rents were a little under 2 weeks income. To support your statement of compounding interest, it would be easy for a young one to put $20 a week away to start the habit.