What I saw as financial security, my children view as outdated thinking.
“Traditional retirement planning is dead,” Brandon says, shutting his laptop after scrolling through another article about digital nomads.
Across the table, Allie sips her coffee. “The idea of working at one company for decades just to retire with a pension? That world doesn’t exist anymore, Mom.”
I built my life around that model. Thirty years in the tech industry. Maxed-out 401(k) contributions. Stock options and RSUs from multiple companies. A paid-off mortgage. A retirement portfolio split between stocks and bonds.
They respect my success but believe my path is impossible to follow.
Different times
Brandon spreads jam on his toast, sunlight warming our favorite breakfast spot. “Your generation had a simple formula,” he says. “Graduate college, get a stable job, buy a house, save for retirement. Each step led to the next.”
That formula worked. I started in tech when companies still rewarded loyalty. Each promotion came with a higher salary and new opportunities. Shifting to a growing sector opened even more doors.
When the economy crashed, I had built enough stability to stay afloat. The boom years that followed taught me how to take calculated risks — securing long-term security while making the most of short-term gains.
I bought my house when a down payment was still attainable. My mortgage felt steep at the time, but compared to the cost of housing now, it looks like a rounding error. The down payment came from a bonus at my second company — a benefit my children’s generation rarely encounters.
They hear these stories at family dinners. I catch myself offering financial advice, laying out the blueprint that secured my future. They listen, nod, then remind me how much has changed.
The new normal
Brandon works at a community shelter, navigating crises every day. His rent costs more than my first mortgage. His student loan payments exceed what I paid for childcare. When I mention retirement accounts, he gestures toward his overflowing inbox — another urgent case waiting.
Allie sketches on her tablet, balancing freelance design work. A steady corporate client this month could disappear in the next tech downturn. Her income shifts unpredictably. Traditional retirement planning feels like a relic of another time.
They don’t reject financial security. They reject the idea that stability comes from a single employer, a mortgage, and a nest egg. Their world demands constant adaptation.
Shifting ground
Brandon’s nonprofit offers no pension, minimal health insurance, and a 401(k) match that barely keeps up with inflation. His salary covers rent and loan payments, but nothing feels secure. A coworker just quit after a medical bill wiped out his savings. Another moved back in with family when rent increased overnight.
Allie juggles projects, diversifying income across corporate clients, passive template sales, and digital products. Some months, she does well. Others, she chases down unpaid invoices, refreshing her email, waiting for the money she already earned. A single slow month can unravel the next three.
Their finances aren’t just numbers in a retirement account. They shape daily choices. Brandon skips dentist appointments because his insurance barely covers cleanings. Allie holds off on upgrading her aging laptop, hoping it lasts another year.
My blueprint assumes stability. Their reality operates on a different set of rules.
New definitions
Brandon pulls up a presentation on his phone, showing a graph of rising housing costs against stagnant wages. His shelter has seen an influx of professionals who followed the old rules and still lost everything.
Allie sets down her coffee. “Saving still matters, Mom. The strategy just has to change.” She organizes her income streams like an investment portfolio — spreading risk, pivoting when necessary.
Brandon invests in social capital and community resilience. Allie builds a business model that scales beyond trading hours for dollars. Their generation isn’t financially reckless. They’re just navigating a different landscape.
Security looks different now. Job loyalty doesn’t guarantee a pension. Homeownership might not be attainable. Retirement planning means designing a life that doesn’t require an abrupt stop at 65.
Learning to listen
The scent of French toast drifts across the table as Brandon describes a new housing initiative at the shelter. A resident family just signed a lease after three years of homelessness. Wealth, measured in stability, not stocks.
Allie scrolls through her designs, explaining how she’s expanding into new industries. Her portfolio grows, each project reinforcing the next.
My role shifts. Instead of repeating my blueprint, I ask about theirs. Brandon talks about future consulting opportunities, built on years of community work. Allie maps out a strategy to turn her freelance business into something sustainable.
They aren’t rejecting planning. They’re building something different. Not fragile. Not foolish. Just new.
Middle ground
Brandon lifts his coffee mug in a silent toast to another Sunday brunch. Allie sketches, half-listening as he tells a story from work. Sunlight moves across the table, marking time.
The blueprint that carried me through thirty years in tech belongs to another era. Their economy demands agility, reinvention, and multiple streams of security.
They aren’t reckless. They aren’t naïve. They’re adapting.
They aren’t following my path, but they’re building security in their own way.
