So, you’ve found yourself surrounded by youths. They’re everywhere. Lurking in coworking spaces, mumbling in TikTok dialects, refusing to buy houses, and drinking overpriced iced coffee with oat milk and existential dread. Fear not, dear reader. With this guide, you too can vibe with the younglings—or at least avoid being publicly roasted in a group chat.
Step 1: Speak Their Language (Badly)
Young people don’t use words. They use vibes. Communication is now a complex symphony of emojis, acronyms, and irony so thick you could spread it on gluten-free sourdough. Want to say something’s good? It’s “mid.” Want to express emotional vulnerability? Just send the clown emoji. Accidentally use a thumbs-up? You’ve just declared yourself a digital fossil.
Tip: Sprinkle your sentences with “slay,” “lowkey,” and “no cap.” Bonus points if you misuse them with confidence. “This lasagna lowkey slays, no cap.” You’ll either be respected or gently euthanized with kindness.
Step 2: Understand Their Hobbies (Or Pretend To)
Gone are the days of golf and stamp collecting. Today’s young people are into highly niche pursuits like:
– Making PowerPoints for fun (seriously).
– Curating Spotify playlists as if their emotional well-being depends on it (it does).
– Filming themselves reacting to food with the intensity of a war documentary.
You don’t need to get it. You just need to nod solemnly and ask what their “main hyperfixation” is this week. Then listen. Or pretend to listen while you Google what “liminal spaces” are and why they make everyone feel like they’re haunted by capitalism.
Step 3: Talk About Mental Health, But Make It Casual
Young people talk about anxiety the way previous generations discussed the weather. “Hey, how’s it going?”
“Oh, not bad, just spiraling today lol.”
“Same. You want to trauma bond over overpriced tea?”
If you’re uncomfortable with this level of openness, just mirror their style. Throw in some self-deprecating humor about your own existential dread and watch them nod with approval like you’ve unlocked the final level of empathy.
Step 4: Don’t Try Too Hard
Nothing reeks of desperation like a 47-year-old trying to use “rizz” in a sentence. Young people can sense inauthenticity like blood in the water. They don’t want you to be them. They want you to respect them, which is much easier because it mostly involves not saying “back in my day” every five minutes.
Instead, ask questions. Listen. Express genuine curiosity without sounding like you’re observing a rare animal in the wild. “So, explain to me why everyone hates landlords now?” works better than “These kids don’t want to work anymore.”
Step 5: Accept That They Might Be Right
Yes, their memes are weird. Their attention spans are shredded. Their sense of humor is a cursed blend of absurdism, pain, and corporate nihilism. But maybe—just maybe—it’s because they inherited a planet on fire, an economy made of dust, and a social structure that runs on vibes and broken promises.
And yet, they still make each other laugh. They still fight for a better world. They still wear Crocs on purpose. Maybe they know something we don’t.
A Scenario:
A trendy, plant-infested café. Indie music hums overhead. Enter Roger (56), a well-meaning man in a tucked-in polo shirt. He scans the menu like it’s written in hieroglyphs. He squints at the words “matcha,” “shroom latte,” and “moon milk.”
Across the room, Jade (23) sips an iced drink the color of despair and scrolls on her phone at 300 miles per hour.
Roger approaches timidly.
ROGER
Excuse me, is this seat taken?
JADE (without looking up)
Not unless you’re a capitalist.
ROGER
Oh! Uh, no. I’m just Roger.
JADE (finally looking up)
Chill. I’m Jade. You can sit. Just don’t ask me to explain crypto.
ROGER
Wouldn’t dream of it. I still think Bitcoin is a kind of app.
Roger sits, clutching a coffee that is somehow both hot and iced. Silence.
ROGER (attempting camaraderie)
So… what do you do?
JADE
I’m a content strategist for a decentralized art DAO.
ROGER
…A what now?
JADE
It’s like a job, but no health insurance and 4-hour Zoom calls with people named “Pixel_Priest.”
ROGER
Right. Makes sense. I was in middle management for 27 years, so I guess… we’re both tired?
JADE
Deeply. Existentially. But my tired wears Doc Martens.
They share a moment. Jade adjusts her headphones around her neck.
ROGER
Can I ask—what is that thing you’re always doing on your phone?
JADE
Oh. I’m doomscrolling memes to numb the ache of late-stage capitalism. Want to see one?
She shows him her screen. It’s a blurry SpongeBob image overlaid with the text “me trying to thrive in a collapsing ecosystem.”
ROGER (blinks)
Is this… humor?
JADE
Yeah. It’s trauma, but funny. Welcome to the internet.
Roger nods slowly, sipping his mysterious drink.
ROGER
Back in my day, we—
JADE (deadpan)
—walked uphill both ways. I know. I’ve heard the legends.
ROGER (chuckles)
Fair enough. So what do you young folks… want?
JADE
Honestly? Universal healthcare, rent control, and a nap. Mostly the nap.
ROGER
Now that I can understand.
Pause. The music changes to something vaguely apocalyptic with synth.
ROGER
You know, you’re not nearly as scary as the internet made you sound.
JADE
And you’re not nearly as boring as Twitter said you’d be. You’re just… earnest. Kinda wholesome. Like a Labradoodle in khakis.
ROGER (pleased)
I’ll take that.
Jade slides her phone across the table.
JADE
Here. I’ll teach you how to make a meme. You can send it to your other middle-aged friends and confuse them for sport.
ROGER (grinning)
You’re a generous soul.
They lean over the phone together as Roger struggles to type “me when I try to understand Gen Z culture.”
Fade out.
Final Thought
Getting along with young people isn’t about pretending to be young. It’s about showing up with curiosity, humility, and a willingness to admit you don’t know what “corecore” is—and that’s okay.
Besides, they don’t know what a fax machine is, so we’re even.
