They haven’t got the first clue about basic office behaviour. Who includes a confusing abbreviation like “WA” in an out-of-office email? And why tell the world to WA you when you can only be WA-ed by people with your phone number?
Once I had stopped ranting, my friend pointed out that the sender had actually been quite sensible.
She had devised a polite way to say she was available for urgent work matters while on leave, but only if you were a client, work colleague or someone who knew her well enough to have her phone number – as opposed to a random, cold-calling irritant.
My friend was right. I was wrong. In fact, having been called by plenty of such irritants after leaving a phone number on OOO messages, I plan to adopt the WA policy myself.
This is an example of one of the most infuriating things about young people at work. They often turn out to be right.
I say this as someone who believes generational differences can be vastly overblown. I also know how many managers struggle to deal with what they feel are coddled, disengaged and difficult younger workers.
But I have had to bow to the awful truth that people younger than me do occasionally know better. This goes beyond their admirable, if skittish, preference for roomy cargo pants over skinny jeans, and long socks under shoes instead of the less comfortable – and apparently dated – no-show socks that fill my drawers.
It’s the youthful approach to “work-life balance”, a phrase I don’t recall uttering before the pandemic, that has really forced me to rethink.
I was reminded of this the other week when I was telling a journalist I’ve known for decades about a pile of deadlines I had accepted that were threatening to make a mess of the following fortnight.
“Why don’t you just drop one of the commitments?” she asked. I looked at her, mildly shocked, as she added that this is what someone younger would do.
She and I both spent years working through nights and over weekends to follow running news stories or meet big deadlines. Everyone did at the time. More recently, we have both heard younger colleagues announce that, having worked through the weekend, they would be taking two week days off, no matter what sort of news was happening. The first time this happened, my reaction was much like the one to the OOO message: you are joking. I still think you shouldn’t sign up for a career with unavoidably long or unpredictable hours unless you are up for it.
But I started working before email and smartphones kept you tethered to work 24/7.
And as I have watched older people in a raft of different sectors burn out, fall ill with stress, or just grow more tired and unproductive, I have become convinced of the need to make working hours sustainable.
The health benefits are obvious. Working at least 55 hours a week led to 745,000 deaths from stroke and coronary heart disease in 2016, a 29% rise since 2000, UN data shows.
And long hours are not necessarily good for business either.
Research by Gallup in June showed just 6% of employees feel engaged at work in Japan, which has an entire word for death by overwork (karoshi).
That makes them some of the world’s least-engaged employees, a ranking they have held for years, which is a worry considering employee engagement is linked with productivity and profitability.
Ultimately, older workers’ acceptance of long, unhealthy working hours is what younger workers are challenging worldwide. Their disapproval may jar. It may even grate, but it is definitely pushing working life in the right direction.
© Financial Times
