I’ve been following often humorous interactions between Gen Z members versus Gen X and occasionally (great)grandparents, the Boomers. Most of the jabs and jibes have been light-hearted, not overly unkind, although teachers and parents have begun to worry about Gen Zs finding their way in the world.
In the midst of these philosophical and practical concerns, I’ve become a more personal observer of the scene. Although I’ve witnessed essentials in the following vignettes, they represents a melding of characters, a Gen X composite rather than any one person. Further, no animals were harmed in the making of this scene. With that in mind…
Gen Z v Dad
“Hey, dude, I need…”
“The pronunciation is ‘dad’ not ‘dude’.”
“Whatever. I need…”
“Need is not the same as want. Neither do you need nor do you want. Consider the lilies of the field…”
“What? Lilies? What does that even mean? Dad, lemme have $6k.”
“Neither do they toil… You need $6000 maybe for heart surgery?”
“New rig for my gaming career. A professional needs professional gear. I’m getting my butt kicked on my old system.”
“Last year’s model, right? As I recall, it ran $2200.”
“Exacto. My cheapass loadout can’t compete, no cap.”
“Son, what did I teach you about work?”
“You told me never ever work a day in my life.”
“My full statement was, ‘Find a job you love, you’ll never ever work a day in your life.’”
“Job? Job? Please shoot me.”
“A good job brings income and food and shelter. How much guap has your gaming earned?”
“You can’t calculate petty capitalist concepts. This is my career.”
“What about your bank account?”
“Bruh! That thing you set up when I was twelve? Nobody uses banks anymore. It’s all Venmo, Kurv, Apple Cash app. Listen man, slide me a new card without a loser $500 limit like before.”
“That very limit allowed the family to eat that month.”
“Never mind. I’ll hit up Mom.”
“Good luck with that.”
Gen Z v Mom
“Mom…”
“No.”
“I haven’t asked anything yet.”
“No, my child.”
“Mom, give me a chance.”
“You asked your father? What did he say?”
“Uh… He said ask you.”
“Are your clothes still strewn on the floor?”
“Mommm. I can’t excel in a socialist society when swamped with minor issues like laundry. Anyway…”
“Hard working boys smell pretty bad without fresh clothes, no matter who they’re going out with.”
“What? Listen, I need six thou…”
“Isn’t that a lot to spend on a date? Are you matching on Boo?”
“Eww. Mom, I’m not dating. At all. It’s for…”
“Susan Deprez says her daughter thinks you’re cute. Clueless but cute.”
“No, the money’s…”
“And Eboni Browne’s been phoning a lot. Who are you inviting to the dance?”
“Ugh. I have no time for primitive mating rituals.”
“Well, if you like boys…”
“Seriously? C’mon, I’m into major gaming.”
“Oh, before I forget, the comic book store posted a hiring notice. You could sell Superman, deal Deadpool, push Punisher, hawk the Hulk, market Marvel.”
“No way. Labor is for losers. Look…”
“So about the primitive rite of washing clothes, rendering lye, wading into the stream, scrubbing musty shirts with stones. Feed the washing machine and you’ll be in time for dinner. Now, out of my kitchen. Shoo! Move along, my child. Hustle. Consider the lilies of the field…”
noun, from physics
An uncharged elementary particle considered to transmit weak interaction between other elementary particles.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Welcome. Please feel free to comment.
Our corporate secretary is notoriously lax when it comes to comments trapped in the spam folder. It may take Velma a few days to notice, usually after digging in a bottom drawer for a packet of seamed hose, a .38, her flask, or a cigarette.
She’s also sarcastically flip-lipped, but where else can a P.I. find a gal who can wield a candlestick phone, a typewriter, and a gat all at the same time? So bear with us, we value your comment. Once she finishes her Fatima Long Gold.
You can format HTML codes of <b>bold</b>, <i>italics</i>, and links: <a href="https://about.me/SleuthSayers">SleuthSayers</a>