Hey — It’s Toffer.
I went to a time traveller’s party yesterday.
Estimated read time: 9 minutes.
It was age specific — you had to be in your late 30s or early 40s to join. But you didn’t have to be from 2024.
Apart from us Millennials, there were Boomers at their prime — the real hipsters bringing back the 70s, Gen Xers with their perms, partying like it’s 1999, and a lone Gen Z from the future. She stood out because she was just on her phone the whole time.
“One more shot, sir?” offered the waiter.
“No, he’s on beer,” a Gen Xer said, sliding me a pint.
Gen Xers are chill.
I stood to leave when the Gen Z finally spoke up.
“Thank you, Millennials. The future of work is bright because of you.”
I sat back down. This I had to hear.
She began, her eyes still fixed on her phone screen. “When the Baby Boomers entered the workforce, the ethos was all about lifetime employment in exchange for corporate loyalty. This echoed the generation before them who lived a life of conformity, subordinating themselves to the larger cause of fighting fascism during World War II.”
Woah.
She paused, looking up. “Their parents’ advice was:
“Subordinate yourselves to a larger cause to find meaning.”
But the Baby Boomers didn’t fully buy into this. There was no more war — at least not one they could rally behind. Plus, their generation was at the height of multiple social disruptions.”
A Boomer nearby nodded in agreement.
“They ended up creating a counter-cultural movement,” she continued. “This gave birth to the 70s mindset of getting rid of work altogether, viewing it as an obstacle to self-actualization — a mindset to find themselves outside of work.”
“Hell yeah!” a Boomer whooped.
“However, by the time they were having kids in the 80s and 90s, they needed to balance these two forces. They came up with telling their kids — you Millennials — to follow their passion:
“You still need to get a job, but make it a job you love, so the job itself can be a source of meaning and fulfillment.”
I nodded. That was the dream we were sold.
“But when the early 2000s arrived and Millennials started entering the workforce, this mindset collided harshly with reality. You stepped into a global economy reeling from the financial crash, emerged from the aftermath of the Dotcom burst, and into the dawn of digital distractions. Work transformed into a means to an end. The Millennial mantra became:
“Work simply supports things that are more important.”
She glanced at her phone before continuing. “For some, careers were fulfilling. For others, work was just a paycheck to fund a meaningful life outside the office. This marked a departure from previous generations’ expectations of career fulfillment.”
I shrugged. That’s life.
“Then the pandemic hit. It disrupted work in unprecedented ways. Suddenly, everyone went remote. The pain points that people felt with their jobs were amplified. At the same time, the idea that you could have more freedom and flexibility in configuring work and life was also amplified.”
She gestured with her free hand. “People were moving, exploring different schooling configurations with their kids. Many were leaving jobs. There was a spirit of ‘anything goes’. Things were so challenging that nothing seemed off the table anymore, inculcating the idea that significant change was not only possible but necessary.”
“People were lost,” she said, her voice softening. “But you Millennials, you weren't, because you were detached, and it is for this reason our future is bright.”
The room fell silent. She had our full attention now.
“Millennials understood something crucial,” she continued. “They realized that you are never truly lost. What you’re getting is the information that where you are now and where you’re going is not where you want to end up. And that realization? That’s an incredibly important place. We call it the path of not here.”
The path of what?
“Not here,” she repeated, smiling. “Every time you realize you’re on it, you have the option of shifting, of going somewhere else. But without recognizing that this is the path of not here, you can’t shift. Most people don’t realize this path even exists, so they don’t shift. They keep going and going, forever feeling lost.”
She paused, letting that sink in. “Pre-pandemic, Millennials were so detached they were doing F.I.R.E — Financial Independence, Retire Early. It was a movement that came out of the tech world, all about aggressively saving while living cheaply to achieve financial independence at a relatively young age.”
“But after the pandemic, you shifted again. You created what we now call ‘Candle F.I.R.E’ — think of it as a small, sustainable flame. The idea isn’t about leaving work entirely and living off investments. It’s about moving to a more affordable location where expenses are lower, so you don't have to work as much. You’re leveraging your career capital — you’re in your 40s, you’re experienced, you’re in demand. So you negotiate part-time positions — half the money but living on half the expenses. A nice life with significantly less work.”
I smirked. Sounds like a mid-life crisis.
She laughed, finally looking up from her phone. “No, this is a life reset. What you taught us is an intentional reconfiguration of our lives to amplify the small number of things we’ve learned through experience that we value and minimize those things that get in their way.”
Wow. We are awesome.
“Yes, and thank you,” she said, as if reading my thoughts. “Your generation’s experiences have shaped the advice you’re now giving to your own children:
“Create wealth, not just income. Find work that energizes you. Build rare and valuable skills. Embrace flexibility. Live richly, but below your means. The path to a meaningful life is rarely a straight line.”
Music started playing again.
We may not have flying cars or hoverboards yet, but we have something far more valuable — the ability to recognize when we’re on the path of not here and the courage to shift our course. We actually don’t know where (or when) we’ll end up, but we know exactly how to get there.
Your Friend in Time,
Toffer