The family group chat has a new drinking game: spot the boomer text.
Your kids know it's you texting before they check the sender. There's something about the way boomers approach text messaging—like they're composing a letter to the editor while defusing a bomb—that makes their messages unmistakable. It's not just the technical struggles; it's the whole philosophy of digital communication they can't quite grasp.
The fascinating part isn't that boomers text differently. It's that they text like they're performing texting rather than actually doing it. Every message carries the weight of formal correspondence, the anxiety of new technology, and the desperate hope that they're doing it right. Spoiler: they're not.
1. "OK" in all caps like you're yelling agreement
Nothing says "I learned to text in my sixties" quite like "OK" in aggressive capitals. To everyone under 50, this reads as barely contained rage. But to boomers, it's just acknowledgment. They don't know that "OK" is shouting, "Ok" is passive-aggressive, and "ok" is normal. Don't mention "k"—they'll think you're having a stroke.
The linguistics of casual approval have evolved beyond their comprehension. They're still writing "OK" like it deserves respect, not realizing they're sending the text equivalent of slamming a door.
2. Signing texts like formal letters
"Hope you're well. Can you pick up milk? Love, Mom"
Every text arrives complete with greeting, body, and signature. As if the name at the top of the thread isn't enough. As if you might forget who's texting about milk. This reflexive formality reveals their fundamental discomfort with casual digital communication.
They can't just write "get milk." That feels rude, unfinished. So they add pleasantries, sign-offs, sometimes dates. Their texts have more structure than most emails.
3. The ellipsis that means nothing but sounds ominous
"We need to talk..." "Dad's at the hospital..." "Just got your message..."
The boomer ellipsis is never intentionally dramatic. They use it like a thoughtful pause, a conversational trailing off. They don't realize that to anyone under 40, those dots signal impending doom.
They think they're being casual. Meanwhile, their kids are panic-calling to make sure nobody's dead. "Why the dots, Mom?" "What dots?" The cycle continues.
4. Voice-to-text disasters they never proofread
"Hey sweetie comma hope your okay period wanted to know if you're coming Sunday question mark love comma mom"
They've discovered voice-to-text and think it's magic. They don't realize it requires editing. So their messages arrive like stream-of-consciousness poetry, punctuation spelled out, random words capitalized, homophones everywhere.
The best part? They never notice. They spoke clearly, so surely it transmitted perfectly. Why would they check? Technology is supposed to make things easier.
5. Eighteen short messages instead of one
"Hi" "It's mom" "Just wanted" "To ask" "About thanksgiving" "Are you coming?" "Let me know"
Each thought gets its own message. Your phone has a seizure while they compose what could've been a single sentence. This fragmented style isn't intentional—they just hit send after every thought.
They don't understand that each message is a separate notification. In their mind, it's conversation. In reality, it's a one-person symphony of dings.
6. Emoji that wildly miss the mark
"Uncle died 😂😂😂" "Hospital tests tomorrow 🎉" "Happy birthday 🍆🍑"
They've heard emoji make them seem younger, more with it. Nobody explained the evolved meanings. So they use them like decorative stickers, choosing by color or vague visual appeal.
Laughing emoji becomes universal punctuation. Eggplant is just produce. Every message gets inappropriate emotional responses because they look festive. It's like watching someone use a dictionary from the wrong language.
7. Treating group texts like private conversations
"Thanks Linda! BTW, my colonoscopy went well. Polyps benign. Love to all!"
They don't grasp that thirty-seven relatives didn't need that update. Group texts are public forums to them, perfect for broadcasting medical information to cousins they haven't seen since 1987.
They answer rhetorical questions. Respond to memes with concern. Share unrelated news like it's their personal Facebook. The concept of "reply privately" might as well be quantum physics.
Final thoughts
Here's the beautiful irony: boomers built the infrastructure that makes modern communication possible. They created the companies, designed the phones. Then they handed it all to their kids, who transformed it into something unrecognizable.
Their texting style isn't about technological incompetence. It's about clinging to communication norms from a world that moved on. They text like they're writing thank-you notes because that's what polite meant to them. They sign their names because anonymity feels wrong. They use voice-to-text because talking is more natural than thumb-typing.
The generational divide isn't technical—it's philosophical. Boomers see texts as tiny letters requiring thought and structure. Everyone else sees them as conversation, casual as breathing. Neither is wrong, but only one sends "OK..." at 2 a.m. and wonders why their kids panic.
Maybe we shouldn't mock the signatures and ellipses. Maybe we should appreciate them trying to bring dignity to a medium that usually lacks it. Or maybe we should just explain that the eggplant isn't about vegetables. Definitely the eggplant thing. That one's urgent.
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