Keeping it Real

          Have some sympathy for Gen Z (pronounced zee, you old-timers), the demographic nickname for people born between the mid-1990s and early 2010s, for they are Digital Natives and, as such, different from the generations that precede them. They are still human, of course, but their interactions with the rest of the species have been disproportionately informed by a novel system of communication, the Internet, which the rest of us see as an addition to, not a substitute for, face-to-face encounters.

          Is this problematic? Well, there are plenty of anecdotes that flag it as an issue and there is scientific research to back that up. Psychologists have identified the following skill sets in which Gen Z is deficient: empathy, time management, problem solving and critical thinking. They have also noted their aversion to picking up the phone and attending meetings at which people are physically present.

          This state of affairs might set older people tut-tutting, but there is another, practical level of concern, expressed by employers. Where will they find the workers who have the old-fashioned people skills necessary for public-facing jobs? Our education system was supposed to churn out a workforce equipped to fill the available vacancies. Has it failed in its mission?

          Yes, but there is hope in the form of a course that is becoming available to rectify the balance and teach Digital Natives the soft skills of human awareness and interaction. However – aside from the sad fact of its perceived necessity – there are two potential problems with it. The first is that it is not yet incorporated into any regular curriculum. The second is that it is conducted online.

          Over the Easter break, an evening spent in a pub reassured me that offline life, in all its messy, jostling vitality, aces it. The pub was a street corner local, with a band jammed into the window bay and a mixed crowd of all ages thronging the bar. The vibe was timeless, insofar as it felt the same as it did when I was in my early 20s and pub gigs were staple entertainment most weekends.

          Back then, I was generation-blind, interested in mixing only with my peers. I could say the same today, except that I do take notice of those younger than me. Having been there, I am now curious about how they navigate life. What are their backgrounds, their daily strivings, their hopes and ambitions? How do their lives compare with mine and those of the people I grew up with? That evening, it was plain that we had at least one thing in common: coming to the pub to hear a good blues/rock band.

          But for such an evening to be authentic, it takes more than a good band. The place itself must feel welcoming to one and all, as this one does. Key ingredients are a good beer (and cider), a friendly, mixed crowd and the kind of interior that hasn’t had a themed makeover since it first opened its doors in 1887, it’s essential grubbiness disguised by a random assortment of trophies, old photos, bric-a-brac and plaques inscribed with humorous slogans, within which often may lie a gritty grain of real-life truths. Surely everyone appreciates the wry humour of the old Free Beer Tomorrow offer; or the quaintly illustrated Duck or Grouse warning on the low beam in the passageway to the gents (nowadays rudely sidelined by a mandated health and safety sign in neon yellow)?

          If you consider all this to be the essence of a charming old institution sustained by genuine human interaction, then it might be a good idea to encourage Gen Z to go and learn to mingle there as a practical alternative to the online course. I’m not sure they would appreciate the significance of the sign over the bar that asks What if the Hokey Cokey Really Is What It’s All About? But I’m sure some old geezer like me would be happy to explain.