Avocado toast and "Gig Politics" - Gen Z is going to completely upend the social and political contract... [View all]

Brunch with my grandniece is a droplet of sunshine on an otherwise overcast day. We do this, at a restaurant of her choosing, once a month. What began as a mentorship quickly became more of a collegial exchange across the generations and something that I very much look forward to. Reality is that the girl's sharp as a tack and has the kind of internal gyroscope that a cat would admire. Come the fall, she's headed off to college where she'll be better prepared than I was at her age.

I've arrived early and have ordered my go to eggs Benedict off the menu when she swooshes in right on the hour. Emily Post once said that timeliness is our way of showing others that we respect them. Thankfully, my grandniece gets that. Plaid bell bottoms, a floral print top and bucket hat only partially hiding a bob haircut, she's a vintage clothing shop tableau from the 60's, 70's, and 80's. "Sup" to me and "The garden special and a side of avocado toast" to the waiter.

"How's the job going?" Leaning forward in her chair, a girl named for a character in an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel declares "In the rear view mirror." A clerical position in a law firm, it's the third job she has started and quit this summer. "Oh?" It's the best I can manage without wanting to sound judgemental. "I got what I wanted in the shortest time possible." Curious. "And what's that?" She's far more confident than I was at her age. "Well, now I know I never want to be a lawyer. That's for sure."

While I'm still digesting her conclusion, arrived at in all of a month, our plates arrive. She starts in on the avocado toast and her world view. "If I'm going to surrender my freedom to an employer, then I have to consider what I get out of it in exchange." Life as a contract. I'd forgotten that her summer reading list includes the likes of Rousseau, Locke and Hobbes. She might not want to be a lawyer, but she's clearly developing the transactional nature of one. "Everything's a gig. And, with AI coming, there's no time to waste." She's 18 and sees her life quickly slipping away.

The eggs Benedict are good but I failed to request the Hollandaise sauce on the side, so I'm digging out from under. "What about politics?" Are loyalties there a short term gig? I know she's politically aware but don't have a full sense of where she stands. "Gig politics. I like it. I'm taking that." She quickly taps something into her iPhone. For all I know, tomorrow it will have gone viral. "You're asking Trump vs. Mamdani. Fascism vs. Socialism. Is that right?" Like her third summer job, Hitler and Stalin are in the rear view mirror, replaced by two newer political figures still battling over the same old issues of power and capital.

The girl who has yet to vote has moved on to her platter of fresh fruits and vegetables. "Most people in my generation are politically neutral. We're fluid. We're waiting to see what we're offered. And, we don't just want words. We want real action." The words carry an unspoken accusation..."Your generation, Mom and Dad's generation, you all failed us." The world according to Gen Z could go Trump's way. It could go Mamdani's way. It could go some altogether different way that none of us can now comprehend. The only sure conclusion is that the political landscape is only beginning to be upended, a water glass jostled, tottering, still undecided whether and in whose lap it might fall.

When brunch is over, I pay with a credit card and include a cash tip. 18% seems fair. My grandniece pulls an extra $5 out of her purse and plops it atop my own tip. Her first job this summer was as a waitress. That lasted all of a week. From which she learned to be a more giving person. Outside the restaurant, I ask her if she needs a lift home. "Thanks. But, I'm meeting up with a friend." My reply is casual. "Shopping?" The clouds have begun to part. She's a sunflower, turning towards the sun. "Maybe. Or, maybe we'll rob a bank. Gotta keep you guessing."