A retired teacher's grocery store encounter with a phone-distracted twenty-something reveals the growing chasm between generations over what constitutes basic courtesy—from handwritten thank-you notes to the explosive family drama that erupts when life-changing news arrives via group text.
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Last week at the grocery store, I watched a twenty-something bump into an older woman's cart, mumble something while looking at their phone, and continue walking.
The woman stood there, bewildered, waiting for eye contact that never came.
Walking back to my car, I couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted in how different generations understand basic courtesy.
After three decades in the classroom and now well into my retirement years, I've had a front-row seat to watch social norms evolve.
What my generation considers non-negotiable politeness often seems quaint or even puzzling to younger folks.
The disconnect isn't about right or wrong—it's about vastly different worldviews shaped by technology, changing social structures, and evolving definitions of respect.
1) Writing thank-you notes by hand
Remember the ritual?
Nice stationery, careful penmanship, a trip to the mailbox.
For my generation, a handwritten thank-you note was as essential as breathing after receiving a gift.
We kept boxes of cards ready, taught our children the proper format, and genuinely believed that gratitude without a written acknowledgment was incomplete.
Today's younger generations express thanks through texts, DMs, or quick emails.
They argue—fairly—that immediate digital gratitude feels more authentic than a note that arrives weeks later.
But for many boomers, that text message feels like the social equivalent of showing up to a wedding in flip-flops.
The effort of finding paper, writing by hand, and buying a stamp was part of the gift of gratitude itself.
2) Always returning phone calls
My father, who spent his career as a mailman, had a simple rule: if someone took the time to call you, you took the time to call them back. Period.
It didn't matter if you were busy, uninterested, or had nothing to say.
An unreturned phone call was a small cruelty, a sign that you didn't value the relationship.
These days, I watch younger friends let calls go to voicemail without a second thought, responding days later with a text if at all.
They're not being rude by their standards—they're managing overwhelming communication streams and protecting their mental space.
But when my generation sees that declined call, we feel personally rejected in a way that's hard to explain.
3) Making actual phone calls for important matters
This one creates real friction.
When my daughter texts me that she can't make it for Thanksgiving, or when a young colleague announces their resignation via email, something in my chest tightens.
Big news, whether joyful or difficult, deserves the intimacy of voice, doesn't it?
I've seen family gatherings derailed when younger members announce engagements, pregnancies, or major life changes through group texts while sitting at the same table.
The older generation feels robbed of a moment, while the younger folks feel they're efficiently sharing information.
The gulf between these perspectives has sparked more heated discussions at holiday dinners than politics ever could.
4) Addressing people formally until invited otherwise
Growing up, every adult was Mr., Mrs., or Miss until they specifically said, "Please, call me Betty."
This wasn't stuffiness—it was acknowledging that relationships have levels, that intimacy is earned, that respect has a vocabulary.
Now I watch young professionals address CEOs by their first names in initial emails, and while part of me admires the democratization of it all, another part winces.
That distance we maintained wasn't about hierarchy as much as it was about recognizing that familiarity is a gift to be offered, not assumed.
5) Standing when someone enters the room
My Thursday morning coffee companion and I still do this reflexively—rising slightly when someone joins our table, standing fully when introduced to someone new.
It's muscle memory from an era when physical gestures carried weight.
Younger generations often find this bizarre, even uncomfortable.
They argue that equality means not making theatrical displays of respect based on age or gender. Fair enough.
But for us, that small rise from our chair said, "I see you, you matter, your presence changes the room."
6) Avoiding controversial topics at social gatherings
We were raised on the iron rule: no politics, religion, or money talk at parties.
Keep things light, pleasant, surface-level if necessary.
The goal was harmony, even if it meant biting your tongue until it bled.
Today's younger generations see this as toxic positivity, as complicity with injustice, as prioritizing comfort over truth.
They bring their whole selves to every gathering, beliefs and boundaries included.
They'd rather have an authentic argument than a false peace.
Sometimes I envy their courage, even as I mourn the lost art of small talk about the weather.
7) Always RSVPing to invitations
The invitation arrives, you check your calendar, and you respond yes or no within 48 hours.
Simple. Clear. Respectful of someone's planning needs.
This was gospel in my generation, as fundamental as wearing shoes in public.
But now? Radio silence is the norm.
Maybe they'll show, maybe they won't.
They're waiting to see how they feel that day, what else comes up, and whether something better materializes.
The flexibility might be mentally healthier, but for those of us trying to plan a dinner party, it feels like trying to nail Jell-O to a wall.
8) Offering your seat to others
Public transportation tells the story perfectly.
We were trained to pop up like jack-in-the-boxes when anyone elderly, pregnant, or struggling appeared.
It was automatic, non-negotiable, a small daily sacrifice that knit communities together.
Younger folks often stay seated, earbuds in, eyes on screens.
They're not consciously being selfish—they're in their own worlds, managing their own exhaustion, perhaps dealing with invisible disabilities we can't see.
But when I see an elderly person standing while young people sit, something ancestral in me aches.
Final thoughts
Here's what I've learned after years of observing these generational divides: manners aren't really about the specific rules.
They're about showing care for the social fabric, about making others feel seen and valued.
The methods change, but the underlying human need remains the same.
Maybe the real question isn't whether younger generations are ruder or we're outdated.
Maybe it's how we can honor both the wisdom of old courtesies and the valid reasons they're evolving.
After all, good manners have always been about making space for each other in this world.
The dance steps might change, but we're all still trying to move through life without stepping on too many toes.
