My dad can rebuild a carburetor blindfolded. He fixed our washing machine with duct tape and ingenuity when I was a kid. But ask him to scan a QR code at a restaurant and he looks like I’ve handed him a Rubik’s cube.
It’s not about intelligence. It’s about a fundamental mismatch between how his brain expects the world to work and how it actually works now. Watching him navigate modern conveniences is like watching someone fluent in one language suddenly required to speak another.
1. QR code menus instead of actual menus
He sits down, looks around for a physical menu, then gets visibly frustrated when the server points to a little square on the table. “Why can’t they just give me something I can hold?”
The resistance isn’t about technology as much as it is about cognitive load. Scrolling through a phone menu while trying to have a conversation, track prices, and compare options feels chaotic. Physical menus let you see everything at once, flip back and forth, point to items. He’s not being difficult; he’s mourning an interface that made sense.
2. Self-checkout machines that assume you’re a thief
Last week I watched him scan groceries at self-checkout. The machine kept yelling about “unexpected items in the bagging area” every thirty seconds. He gave up and found a human.
He’s not anti-automation. He loves his dishwasher, electric drill, programmable thermostat. But those tools trust you. Self-checkout machines operate on suspicion, requiring constant validation. For a generation that values trust and efficiency, this feels insulting.
3. Apps for things that used to take one phone call
He needed to schedule a doctor’s appointment. The receptionist told him to download their app. Twenty minutes later, he’d created three accounts, forgotten two passwords, and was ready to throw his phone.
What used to take thirty seconds—”Can I come in Tuesday at 2?”—now requires downloading software, creating credentials, navigating menus. He’s not resisting progress. He’s resisting complexity layered onto simple tasks. The app is theoretically more convenient, but only if you’re already fluent in app logic.
4. Subscription services for things you should own
He bought a new car last year and discovered heated seats require a monthly subscription. I’ve never seen him more genuinely offended. “I paid for the car. The seats are there. Why am I renting my own damn seats?”
This goes deeper than technology frustration. Boomers grew up in an economy where you bought things and they were yours. Subscription-everything feels like paying forever for something you should possess.
5. Contactless payment when cash works fine
He stands at checkout holding exact change while the cashier points to a card reader. “Just tap it.” He doesn’t want to tap it. He wants to hand over money and receive goods like humans have done for millennia.
Contactless payment eliminates the physical exchange that made transactions feel real. When money leaves your hand, you feel it. When numbers move between accounts, it’s abstract. Studies on payment psychology show physical cash creates more spending awareness than digital payments. He’s noticing something the rest of us have stopped feeling.
6. Smart home devices that listen constantly
I set up a smart speaker at his house thinking it would help. He unplugged it within a week. “I’m not having a corporation listening to my conversations.”
Paranoia? Maybe. But also maybe not. His generation didn’t grow up assuming surveillance was the price of convenience. When tech companies admit their devices are always listening, his skepticism looks less like confusion and more like justified caution. The smart home confuses him because the trade-off—privacy for convenience—doesn’t feel worth it.
Final thoughts
What looks like Boomer confusion often isn’t confusion at all. It’s different values colliding with a world optimized for different priorities.
My dad values direct human interaction, physical interfaces, ownership, privacy, and being trusted. Modern conveniences often require surrendering those things for speed and efficiency. When he resists, he’s not failing to adapt. He’s noticing what we’re giving up.
Maybe he’s onto something. Maybe we’ve gotten so fluent in these systems that we’ve stopped asking whether they’re actually better or just newer.
What’s Your Plant-Powered Archetype?
Ever wonder what your everyday habits say about your deeper purpose—and how they ripple out to impact the planet?
This 90-second quiz reveals the plant-powered role you’re here to play, and the tiny shift that makes it even more powerful.
12 fun questions. Instant results. Surprisingly accurate.
