Can Gen-Z Get to the Grey?

Maybe, if we stop outsourcing our every move to the algorithm.

I did something incredibly out of character last week, and I experienced an unexpected consequence as a result—which surprised me.

Thursday morning, rush hour, the A train headed to Manhattan. I’m just going to be super transparent here—there was a man who had gotten on the train standing next to me who happened to be, by any standard, really handsome. On any normal day, I would glance up every now and then, text my friends that I have a new subway crush, and then disappear into the swarm of New Yorkers headed to their destinations. However, this wasn’t a normal day. I found myself fully engaging in a self-inflicted internal argument. There was something in me that felt curious…curious enough to do something about it. So, like any reasonable adult, I brokered a deal with myself. The deal was this: if there is a pen in my bag, I’ll give him my number on a piece of paper. If not, it’ll be chalked up to a missed connection. Was there a small part of me hoping that there wouldn’t be a pen in my bag? Absolutely. Was there a pen in my bag? Absolutely. I never have a pen on me.

I am, after all, a woman of principle. I held myself to my ultimatum. There I was, tearing off a piece of a Whole Foods receipt, clumsily jotting down “Stella” and my phone number.

Mind you, I have two stops left until my destination—so I’m stuck holding this piece of paper. Awesome. After what felt like ages, the A train roars out of the tunnel and pulls up to the platform. Before I could even talk myself out of this interaction, my hand was already outstretched, handing the piece of paper to the man. “Wait, this is for you,” I say. I hadn’t thought about the speaking part (ha, ha).

He smiled (confused), I smiled (also confused). The doors shut, the train barreled to its next stop.

I did indeed disappear into the swarm of New Yorkers headed to their destinations—but this time, with a sense of gratification that gave me pause. As I was replaying the interaction in my mind (probably twenty times), the excitement didn’t come from the prospect of hearing from this man (albeit, a fun byproduct). It came from something else entirely. Feeling, being, an active participant in my own day—in my brain. Embracing discomfort on my own volition.

Embracing friction, even if it’s within myself.

Why did something that could be deemed a humiliation ritual put me in such an optimistic mood? After letting this question marinate for a minute, it hit me. I experienced something that wasn’t served up to me on a silver platter by The Algorithm. There was nothing contributing to that interaction that had anything to do with the tech wizards that eat our data for breakfast. It ultimately came down to existing at the same time and same place as this individual, and seizing the moment.

I don’t like to make sweeping generalizations, but for the sake of this story, I will—so bear with me. Gen Z is (generally speaking, okay) a self-declared socially anxious generation. And I would argue that it has crippled our ability to create moments of connectivity amongst ourselves. I don’t know that I fully understood the degree to which Gen Z has consented to outsourcing our thinking until I experienced this moment. And I would reason that, as a result of this outsourced thinking, our DOING has been squashed. For lack of a better word.

Later that day, I wound up dissecting the concept of “getting to the grey” with Amy. And if you’ve listened to the podcast that I co-host, The Grey Area, you’ll understand that not everything is black and white—grey is a color, too. It’s the proverbial middle-ground that grants us permission to change our minds, exercise critical thinking, and experience a range of discomfort that makes the human experience richer. Good old-fashioned nuance. They don’t make it like they used to—but this doesn’t have to be the case. It does, however, require getting uncomfortable on purpose, which you might instinctively and viscerally reject. I understand this—we all love to be cozy. But we might be so cozy that we are beginning to err on the extreme end of cabin fever. And amazing things can happen when you get outside.

I typically don’t wrap these articles with a call to action, but I would like to now. If you’ve listened are a fellow Gen Zer, or if you know a fellow Gen Zer, I would urge you to do something this week that extracts you from The Algorithm. Smile at someone on the train. Tell someone you like their shoes (granted you actually like their shoes). Ask someone a question. Shoot your shot! I would wager that you might end up having an interesting conversation that you may not have otherwise had. Maybe you will be shrugged off, maybe you will learn something new. But one thing is for certain: you will walk away from the experience with the knowledge that you did something that made you feel like you have a pulse.

If you haven’t already, I would highly encourage you to pick up a copy of Amy’s book, Almost Reckless: A Creative and Pragmatic Approach to Taking Risks. It’s an incredible guide for codifying your principles to help you extract yourself from the algorithm when the moment calls for it. I’ve read it myself, and it is genuinely a one-of-a-kind guide to sharpening your internal measuring stick for taking risks.