9 things people over 70 miss about the way America used to work and they're not wrong

Last week at the grocery store, I watched a young cashier get reprimanded for chatting too long with an elderly customer about her grandchildren.

The manager pointed to a digital display showing average transaction times, shaking his head.

As the older woman shuffled away, looking hurt and confused, I couldn't help but think about how my father's generation would have handled that interaction differently.

At 68, having taught high school for over three decades, I've witnessed this shift firsthand - from when work was about relationships to when it became about metrics.

1) When your job was truly yours to keep

My father worked for the same manufacturing company for 38 years.

Not because he couldn't find other opportunities, but because mutual commitment meant something.

The company invested in him, training him to move from the factory floor to management, and he invested his career in them.

When orders slowed in 1982, they didn't lay anyone off.

They found other work, reduced hours temporarily, but kept everyone on payroll.

"We're family here," his boss used to say, and he meant it.

Today? I watch my former students bounce between jobs every two to three years, not by choice but by necessity.

Companies hire them as contractors to avoid providing benefits, or they're suddenly laid off despite record profits because shareholders demand higher quarterly returns.

The idea of working somewhere long enough to earn a gold watch seems as quaint as using a typewriter.

2) When one income could actually support a family

Here's a truth that might sting: In 1975, I supported myself and two children on my teaching salary alone after my divorce.

Was it luxurious? Hardly.

But we had a modest house, a reliable car, and I could afford to take them to the doctor when they got sick.

We even managed a week at the lake every summer.

Can you imagine a single parent doing that on a teacher's salary today?

My younger colleagues work summer school, tutor in the evenings, and still struggle to afford rent.

We've created an economy where two professional incomes barely achieve what one modest salary used to provide.

Something fundamental broke along the way, and we've all just accepted it as normal.

3) When loyalty ran both directions

During my teaching years, I witnessed something remarkable.

A janitor at our school developed early-onset dementia at 59.

Rather than forcing him out, the administration found lighter duties he could handle, kept his full benefits, and ensured he reached retirement age with dignity.

The entire staff pitched in to help with his responsibilities.

Why? Because he'd given the school twenty good years, and that meant something.

Compare that to now, where I recently read about a company that laid off employees via email during the holidays, or the endless stories of workers being replaced by younger, cheaper alternatives just before their pensions vest.

We wonder why nobody shows company loyalty anymore, but how can they when companies treat workers like interchangeable parts?

4) When work stayed at work

At 3:15, when the school bell rang, I had papers to grade, certainly.

But no parent could text me at 10 PM about their child's homework.

No principal could email me during Sunday dinner, expecting an immediate response about Monday's schedule.

The boundaries were clear because technology enforced them.

My father left his office at 5:00 PM every day, and work couldn't follow him home even if it wanted to.

Now I watch young parents at the playground, pushing their children on swings with one hand while answering work emails with the other.

We've gained connectivity but lost presence.

Is that really progress?

5) When experience commanded respect

By my twenty-fifth year of teaching, I could identify a struggling student within the first week of class.

I knew which kids needed structure, which ones needed freedom, and which ones just needed someone to believe in them.

This wasn't something you could learn from a workshop or an online certification.

It was wisdom earned through thousands of interactions, countless mistakes, and gradual refinement.

Yet everywhere I look now, industries chase the newest trends while pushing out experienced workers.

A friend was recently passed over for promotion in favor of someone half her age who knew the latest software.

The software will be obsolete in two years, but her twenty years of client relationships and institutional knowledge?

That's irreplaceable. Or it should be.

6) When benefits were part of the promise

My teaching contract in 1973 included healthcare, dental, vision, and a pension.

These weren't perks to be negotiated or benefits that could disappear with the next budget cut.

They were part of the fundamental agreement: you give us your career, we'll take care of you and your family.

What do young workers get now?

High-deductible health plans that barely cover anything, 401(k)s that shift all retirement risk onto their shoulders, and the constant anxiety that everything could disappear with the next merger or market downturn.

We've transferred security from institutions to individuals and then wonder why everyone seems so stressed.

7) When your word meant something

I bought my first car with a handshake and a promise to bring the down payment by Friday.

The dealer knew my father, knew I taught at the local high school, and that was enough.

Businesses operated on trust and reputation because in a stable community, your word followed you everywhere.

Today's workers sign non-compete agreements, arbitration clauses, and dozens of pages of legal documentation just to start a job.

Every interaction requires documentation, every promise needs to be in writing, and everyone's protecting themselves from everyone else.

We've replaced trust with lawyers, and I'm not sure we're better off for it.

8) When work built community

Teaching multiple generations of families created connections that went far beyond the classroom.

I taught parents, then their children, sometimes even their grandchildren.

I watched families grow, struggle, and succeed.

When a student's parent lost their job, teachers quietly made sure that the child had lunch money.

When I went through my divorce, families I'd taught brought casseroles and offered childcare.

Work wove us into the fabric of our communities.

Now, with remote work and constant job changes, how many people even know their colleagues' last names, let alone their struggles and triumphs?

We've gained flexibility but lost the deep connections that once made work feel meaningful.

9) When making things mattered more than managing metrics

My father could point to every building in town and tell you which beams his factory had produced.

Teachers could watch their students become doctors, teachers, and parents.

The bank teller knew she was helping families achieve their dream of homeownership.

Work had a tangible, visible impact on real people's lives.

So much work today feels abstract, removed from any meaningful outcome.

Young people optimize algorithms, manage metrics, and increase engagement rates, but for what ultimate purpose?

We've created entire industries that produce nothing tangible, solve no real problems, just move money and data around in increasingly complex ways.

Final thoughts

Were the "good old days" perfect? Of course not.

I lived through discrimination that would be illegal today, watched talented women denied opportunities, and saw workplace safety ignored until tragedy struck.

But in our rush to fix what was broken, we've also discarded much of what worked.

The security, community, and meaning that once characterized American work life weren't just nice extras - they were the foundation that allowed families to thrive and communities to flourish.

Until we find a way to restore these elements in a modern context, we'll keep wondering why, despite all our progress, work feels more like a burden than a blessing.