The man looked about late thirties or so, the young woman with him early twenties, both well dressed, and acting like family, brother and sister, or niece and uncle, rather than a couple. They were both well equipped with fancy phones, laptops, and the like.
I didn’t mean to listen to their conversation. I couldn’t help it. They stood near me on the train-like transport from the gates to the baggage claim at Washington Dulles airport.
He: “So how do you like the new job?”
She: “I like it a lot. I’m really glad I switched.
She: “They care what I think.”
And that, in a nutshell, is why I like working with the Gen Y youngsters. Maybe I have a natural affinity to the Gen Y group because I’m 62 and there’s a jumping-generations phenomenon going on. Could be. Whatever it is, I find these ambitious, impatient, amazingly entitled early-20-something people a kick to work with. As in fun.
And, after all, “they care what I think” is a good thing to want in a job. She didn’t say the salary, perks, or whatever; she wanted to matter.