Worst. Generation. Ever?

In 1989, NBC’s Tom Brokaw called the people born between 1900 and 1930 “The Greatest Generation.”

These were the young men and women who won WWII. (My parents were born in 1928 and 1930, respectively.)

This generation faced economic hardship early on, learning values like frugality and perseverance. They served bravely on battlefields and home fronts, securing victory and rebuilding America post war.

Now fast-forward a century.

In “The Newsroom,” Jeff Daniels’ character calls a twentysomething a “part of the Worst PERIOD Generation PERIOD ever PERIOD.”

Sadly, I feel that way sometimes. I never wanted to be that old guy yelling, “YOU KIDS GET THE HELL OFF MY LAWN!”

But when I said that to my friend Bob, he said—without skipping a beat—“I’m already there.”

They don't want to work too hard. They want to put a happy face on everything.

Let me tell you a story about one of these people. This guy, he's probably in his late 20s. He was working as an account executive at an online advertising firm.

And his firm was paying me between $5,000 and $10,000 a month to post their ads on a website I owned.

And I really depended on that money—because my servers cost $4,000/month and I paid $1,500/month for content.

This was the only money I had coming in. But their payments were unreliable. I never knew when I was gonna get a check.

If you're self-employed, you know how that fells. If you aren't, you have no idea. But I digress…

So I regularly had to call them to say, “Hey, where's my money? I really need to get paid.” Because I was dependably delivering their impressions, but they weren't dependably paying me.

So at one point—I forget the guy's name—I complained to him and he says, “No worries, no problem.”

And I said: YES WORRIES, YES PROBLEM!

Because this is not something you can just gloss over with a platitude, then go back to scrolling social media. Or block with earbuds.

But he’s just one clown. He’s just a caricature. A cliché. He doesn’t represent an entire generation. To wit:

I frequent the restaurant in my marina. It’s staffed by a family of twentysomethings.

And they work their asses off. Seven days a week,

And go to school.

And take care of a four-year-old.

And have a social life—which is more than I can say for myself.

I asked their mom, who raised them and home-schooled them, “How’d you do it? What’s your secret?”

She replied, “I dunno.”

Here’s what I know: if she bottled it, she’d be rich, and the world would be a better place—chock-full of kids like hers.

So there’s hope.

It’s been said that “Children are our future.”

Well, I’ve seen the future. And sometimes it works.