Snowflake, my ass

Gen Z didn’t get to rush headlong into life the way we did. We dismiss them as fragile, too sensitive, snowflakes. But what if they are just doing what we never dared—slowing down and looking inward?

While We Rushed Ahead, They Learned to Feel

I've been struck lately by the difference in how we perceive the young versus the old.

This reflection has been growing over the past year, shaped by my work with teenage therapy clients and alongside young people in restaurants. The limited media I consume tends to portray the younger generation as feckless and lacking backbone. This kind of projection from older generations reminds me of the mirror principle: what we dislike in others often reflects what we dislike in ourselves.

I’ll skip the politics here and focus instead on what I’ve experienced and learned.

The Inheritance They Never Asked For

The joy and curiosity I feel around young people is a reflection of what they exude. The weight of mortgages, long-term job security, early family life—things my generation were fed—doesn't define them. Instead, their inheritance is a pile-up of debt, a dying planet, reduced earning power, and an AI revolution that threatens thousands of job roles.

This was already unfolding, and then we demonstrated just how little we valued them by locking them down for two years. The young people I meet now were between 11 and 17 then—ages crucial for brain development, for building coping strategies, for social exploration, relationships, and sexual awakening.

Do you remember what that time was like for you? If you’re from my generation, you did it without mobile phones or internet access as we know it today—and crucially, without the threat of a global lockdown. Sure, we were grounded by our parents, lost pocket money or Merit Days for smoking on the school bus, but we weren’t isolated en masse.

Coming of Age Without a Map

At 15, I got my first job as a door attendant at the Aylesbury Odeon. I lied on the form, claiming to be 16 just to get the interview. I eventually confessed my real age to Mary in her smoke-filled, yellowing office, after being press-ganged into work to repay my dad for funding my solo (and sadly chaste) skiing trip—taken in pursuit of an older woman.

At 18, I fluked my driving test. I remember my instructor Kevin walking toward me, eyes wide: “How did you do that?”

Later that year, I left home—again, following an older woman.

All these formative, character-building experiences came fast. No time to reflect. Just one headlong rush after another.

Dropped in the Deep End

And now here I am, away from my usual London haunts, in a field with a team of 18–21-year-olds. We've been dropped into a 200-cover restaurant housed in a marquee on a lawn in beautiful Northamptonshire. Most of the team had little or no restaurant experience. We had five weeks ahead of us, and I was nervous on the first night.

As I gave my quiet, slightly shaky “Churchill-meets-Freud-meets-Larry David” address, they looked at me with open eyes and nervous smiles. Then, as the first guests arrived, they got on with it. Smiling. Calm. Courageous. Not running from their fear—but moving toward it.

I’d arrogantly assumed I was afraid they’d fail. In truth, I was afraid I would.

I thought I feared their failure. In truth, it was my own.

The Real Work

Over the weeks their resilience and emotional intelligence quickly became clear and we bonded. We learned about each other. We grew close. This team, denied so much during 2020–2022, delivered at a level that initially shocked and then deeply heartened me.

In therapy, I often encourage clients to step back, slow down, take time to reflect. I’d forgotten that these young people were forced to do exactly that. While I spent half a century charging forward, hiding in “busy-ness,” they sat and stewed. Brooded. The very traits we label as “snowflake” or “too sensitive”—are they not simply our own fears reflected back?

Our Mirror, Not Their Flaw

We clapped for carers, then tutted at their pay rises. We avoid this difficult work, yet rail against the very people who want to come here and do the hard jobs—like wiping our behinds. We mock young people for not drinking or smoking like we did, act bemused by their lower sexual visibility, and are angered by their demand for work-life balance.

But look in the mirror: was it really fun to work through a hangover? Did we enjoy our privacy being invaded? Do we truly miss working ourselves into exhaustion just to save for things that are now worth less than they were 20 years ago?

How About Letting Them Build Their Future

This generation has figured out what we didn’t: that we knew bugger all. And they are quietly, steadily, getting on with it.

Hospitality has a chance to tap into this. To employ a generation of smart, curious, emotionally intelligent, and wonderfully sensitive individuals.

Oh, and for the record—they’re having plenty of sex. They just don’t feel the need to tell us about it.