The Lamest Generation

I suppose every generation feels this way, at least the male of the species. My father would always shake his head about the perceived frailties of my age stratum. I recall steeling myself to let him know I was giving up boxing for football, correctly anticipating the reaction. “A sport where they penalize you for unnecessary roughness? What kind of roughness isn’t necessary in a man’s sport? And what’s with all those pads and the hard helmet? Do you have to wear a dress, too?”

What evokes this memory was sitting in a waiting room today. The selection of magazines was very limited and I found myself settling for “Men’s Health.” I consider it to have more to do with the financial health of their advertisers than your wellbeing.

The article that snags my attention is “15 Top Tech Problems We Want Solved in 2012.” I’d settle for getting through the year without having to call the cable or internet company, but I’m willing to listen to their gripes.

The first one to elevate my eyebrows is “Make cars anyone can drive.” Excuse me? “…it shouldn’t require a ten-minute lesson in starting it and putting it in gear.” Is this really a problem for this generation? I’m the furthest thing from a tech geek and can fire up any rental car thrown at me without tutoring. I learned on a vehicle that had a starter (floor mounted) separate from the ignition switch and had a motorcycle with a manual spark advance. Wasn’t rocket science.

“Stop our mailboxes from filling up. Create an automatic archiving system that works – with no chance we’ll miss an email.” Aw, poor baby. How much effort does it take to decide if you want to file or delete? And do you want a machine making that decision for you?

“Don’t let us sext our boss, our mom or our plumber.” What they’re whining for is a system that detects sexual words and forces you to double-check the intended recipient. If you have a brain circuit that connects your mother with that content, you may have bigger problems than inadequate automation.

“Make autocorrect not embarrass us.” So, turn it off. If you’re concerned about the precision of a message, wouldn’t you proofread it anyway? Or would that exhaust you?

And finally (drum roll, please), “Make auto-flush toilets that don’t terrify our toddlers. This is a major problem.” It is? Part of my retirement was running a mental health clinic in which our clients numbered four figures annually. In eight years, I don’t recall a single case of PTSD (Post-Toilet Stress Disorder). Do not fear the automated flusher; fear the germs on the handle.

If the current generation is cowed by these challenges, I weep for our future.