I really felt my age after reading Erica Dhawan’s essay on the value of so-called ‘geriatric millennials’ in the hybrid workplace.
Despite this rather ageist moniker sparking some outrage, it’s a positive piece that looks at why those born in the early 1980s–us “weathered internet veterans” in Dhawan’s words–who can remember life before tech, have vital skills that bridge generational divides.
Born in 1982, I’m in this sub-group of millennials that remembers life long before smartphones, when we played Minesweeper and kept electronic Tamagotchi pets in our pockets.
We spent evenings hogging the home landline to speak to the same friends we’d spent all day with at school so we’re equally as happy communicating on the phone as we are using Zoom.
Today, I still know how to dial a rotary phone and can hum the sound of dial up internet–neither terribly useful skills in 2021 I grant you–but I can also write code and take apart a computer (as well as put it back together).
Growing up, tech was a toy in my family home. We didn’t have a PC, but we did have a ZX Spectrum computer which was as much about making your own games as it was buying them.
There were loads of books and radio programs that explained how to put games together, so that's what I did. To me it felt very much like play, but introduced me so seamlessly and easily into the idea of building my own stuff with tech.
That’s something that never left me. I later built the PC that I launched a web hosting business on when I was 17-years-old. I think I formed a vital connection to tech, and to the internet, in this magical point in time when the only thing you could really do with it was communicate with people or build something useful.
Today, that has all changed. The internet has morphed into something darker that can influence how you feel about yourself. It has become a sinkhole where you can waste hours of your time chasing dopamine hit after dopamine hit, whether that’s on YouTube, TikTok, Netflix or playing a video game.
This affects all age groups but the geriatric millennial has a unique viewpoint: we don’t fear technology–we’re very much immersed in it and reliant on it–but we also remember, with some nostalgia, a simpler life before.
And apparently our skills can be really valuable in the workplace. Dharwan says that, within organizations that are made up of different age groups, “it’s beneficial to call on your geriatric millennials to help you translate the experiences of both digital adapters (baby boomers) and digital natives (Gen Z).”
Today, my objective at work is building and using tech to make things better, rather than looking to it–or leaning on it–for entertainment.
I'm deliberately not an active participant in social media because I choose to be very conscious about the content I consume. I’m well aware of its power, but also the impact it has on my psychology and the time it steals from me that I will never get back.
Plenty of people my age dip in and out of social media as they need it. They’re not afraid to try new platforms, they just don’t want to download TikTok if it’s not absolutely necessary.
I wonder if geriatric millennials, and those older than us, should be more vocal about what life was like before technology became inseparable from our existence, and began to insidiously steal our attention away from the things that make us happy.