Hi Zee. Welcome to adulting.
You've inherited a dumpster fire of a work world where we're all still pretending the systems make sense.
Let's chat about it.
Oh hi Gen Zed. Gen Zee? Can I call you Zee?
I’m going to call you Zee. Partly because it feels less formal, and partly because after spending the last few years as an observer to the absolute clusterfuck of a workplace you inherited, I feel we’re on a first name basis.
For awhile I debated writing this as a book, but it turns out this conversation doesn’t want to be contained like that. It wants needs to be ongoing. So I’m writing it here instead. A series of letters, to you, about why work is the way it is. One day I hope we can collaborate on how to change the way work, works for everyone.
What I’m about to write is less of a lecture and more of a very (very) long conversation about this moment in history. I think it will be a lot easier to digest if we talk like humans instead of generational thought leaders, corporate influencers and people on LinkedIn using AI to write generic posts.
So Zee, I want to welcome you to adulting. Tell me, is everything you dreamed of?
Remember those “When I Grow Up” daydreams? Maybe you picture a life much like a video montage, composed of elements from influencers and movies and the quiet assumption that things would all work out once you got here. You were the effortless main character who had:
a sweet apartment with big windows and plants that somehow stayed alive.
a new car, or at least reliable wheels.
a plan to visit thirty countries before thirty.
a career that looked more like a calling than a grind and a place where people would actually value your ideas.
a bank account gave you permission to live the life you dreamed of.
You pictured freedom to choose your own path, and enough resources that the path would feel straightforward.
Instead, here you are. You grew up in a world of more.
More access.
More visibility.
Moreoptions.
More speed.
You were born into a landscape of possibility that would have looked like science fiction to your grandparents. You wear more technology on your wrist than entire households once shared. You saw more cultures (through planes, through screens, through curated windows into other people’s lives) before you were eighteen than previous generations saw in a lifetime. You had instant access to the sum of human knowledge, sitting in your pocket like it was no big deal. You built digital versions of yourself, testing identities and communities and versions of you beyond the limits of geography. You watched thousands of careers and lifestyles unfold in real time (filtered, edited and optimized) making almost anything feel reachable if you tried hard enough. You grew up in a world that, for all its chaos and noise, offered more permission to be exactly who you are. More acceptance of differences. Moreopenness about identity and mental health. More be your authentic self mantras than ever before. The message growing up remained pretty consistent:
You can be anything you want to be.
That all sounds pretty positive, but it’s not feeling positive, is it?
Why, as you actually start building your life, do you feel more lost, more overwhelmed and more tired than anyone warned you about? Life is not quite how you pictured it. The expectations are high and the instructions are vague. The systems are a hot mess. You’re told to work harder, but also remain balanced. You need to be ambitious, but don’t over exert yourself.
You can barely afford rent, let alone the lifestyle you were raised to believe was the baseline. You’re burning out before the story even feels like it’s begun. And to make it even more fun? Your boss, Mel, is a bit of a jerk. (We’ll learn more about Mel later).
I want to say something clearly. This is not your fault.
You weren’t given the systems, the rules or the operating instructions for a world this complex. The tougher pill to swallow is that you’re still expected to perform in it regardless. Like it or not, Zee, you are the future of this economy. Figuring out how to survive (and thrive) inside this mess isn’t optional.
I’m watching my own Gen Z daughter step into the workforce right now. A high-functioning, high-potential human getting her ass kicked by systems that were not designed for how she thinks, works, learns or lives.
This series isn’t really about you. And it’s not really about me either. Fine, maybe a tiny bit about me. The real reason I’m writing this is because of what comes next. Gen Alpha is growing up behind you. They are going to inherit whatever version of work your generation reshapes, tolerates, rejects or rebuilds. They’re entering a world where AI is normal and digital life is inseparable from real life.
That means your generation has a massive opportunity. Not just to survive broken systems, but to redesign them. To build workplaces that are more human, more flexible, more intelligent, more sustainable and maybe a little less soul-crushing than the ones you inherited.
This is The Why. Maybe, if we do this right, your kids and my grandkids won’t grow up believing exhaustion is the price of participation in modern life. I think if we combine your generation’s willingness to question broken norms with the hard-earned experience and historical context of the generations before you, we actually have a shot at building a pretty kick-ass future of work.
But first we need to understand how the hell we got here. We’ll dig into that next time.