There is a semi-old joke about Gen Z. It essentially goes like this: If you want to completely disorient a member of Gen Z, simply tell that person to meet you in a certain place at 3:00 PM. Then, leave them alone in a room with an analog clock and the directions written in cursive. While it is true that this particular generation snarls with more alacrity than any prior demographic, it may be that all of the chanting and screaming, threats, and finger snaps are more bluster than we originally thought. As with most wild animals, the saying "they are more afraid of you than you are of them" may apply. As it turns out, Gen Z may be more afraid of everything. This includes things like menus.
Ordering from a menu is not an essential life skill. It just involves looking at said menu, deciding what you want, and then telling your waiter or waitress about your selection. That process includes those odious instances in which one must scan a QR code to download the menu. When I'm in a restaurant with family or friends, the last thing anyone should be doing is welding their smartphone like a cigar or a cocktail weenie on a toothpick. Many of us in Gen X and previous generations can merely look at a restaurant and, from our observations alone, discern what is offered on the bill of fare. As for myself, "double cheeseburger, side of fries, and a draft IPA" is my standard response to any query these days, Including "name, rank, and serial number."
But a menu, printed or otherwise, exerts too much pressure on Gen Z. The prospect of reading, choosing an item, and then (horror of horrors) talking with a previously unknown person is apparently unthinkable for some in their ranks. Yes, you read that correctly. Ordering food in public is the latest anxiety-inducing activity among the Fragilest Generation.
The New York Post notes that the British restaurant chain Prezzo recently conducted a survey. The survey asked 2000 people how relaxed they felt when dining out. A whopping 86% of Gen Z adults (if the term "adults" is indeed applicable) said that they suffered from "menu anxiety." Thirty-four percent of that group said that they got so worked up that they asked a fellow diner to speak to the server for them. Forty percent become so anxious at the prospect of talking to the wait staff that they avoid going out to dinner altogether if they cannot read the menu before arriving at the restaurant. One concern is the cost of the meal, which has some legitimacy to it. Another is the possibility that one might regret one's order, which is lame. The Post said that a similar U.S. study showed that three out of ten Americans now live with the burden of menu anxiety. As in the UK, the bulk of those suffering from this nightmare are members of Gen Z. Gabriel Rubin, who is a professor of Justice Studies* at Montclair State University, recently published a paper that details how Gen Z is more frightened of the world than any who have come before them. He told the Post:
They are digital natives but, between COVID and other factors, they have missed out on important in-person social skills. Because so many Gen Zers are anxious and because so many have trouble in non-digital social spaces, even activities as simple as ordering food sometimes become things to be avoided.
So they spend so much time online, broadcasting to the world every mundane detail of their lives, including their pronouns, what they want to have amputated or appended, or how they feel about pretty much everything, that they do not know how to function outside of their cocoons, where they are constantly affirmed. Thus, they cannot cope with reality. That is ironic, isn't it? Or perhaps it isn't. Despite their alleged crippling anxiety, these people have no trouble marching en masse upon some unsuspecting person or business and screaming, "(Name), (Name), you can't hide! We charge you with genocide!" Or, "Hey Hey! Ho Ho! (that thing we hate) has got to go!" They have also been known to assemble in wolf packs to protest their perceived grievances and seem to handle the world very well, so long as they are accompanied by a few hundred of their closest friends. And a claim that they feel threatened, triggered, or just icky has frequently given these people license to run amuck.
The problem may be that we have raised a generation of immature and narcissistic cowards.
Or it could be that their master's thesis, "Genderqueer Proto-Geometry in the Cubist Movement," and its accompanying degree, Nonbinary Art History Studies, have not netted them the success they believed was rightfully theirs, and they are experiencing flashbacks from handling the morning rush at Starbucks.
Nah, it's cowardice.
On the plus side, if you are concerned about being accosted by one of these roving packs of post-adolescent toddlers, you now have a simple defense. Just be sure to carry a selection of menus from Chili's, TGI Fridays, Fuddruckers, or Denny's. When the mob descends, just toss a few menus at them and watch the tears flow.
*No, I don't know what the $#@& a professor of Justice Studies is, either.
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