I recently received a text message from a number I didn’t recognize:
Hi! This is _______, reaching out to share my High School Football 2025 Fundraiser. Your support would mean so much to me. Please consider donating and sharing this link. Thank you!
My first instinct was to hit “Delete and Report as Junk” – these days, I get too many phishing attempts to take chances. But then I paused at the name. “Wait, do I know this kid?”
It finally dawned on me: this was the older brother of our son’s friend. He had my number because he’d recently fed our cats while we were out of town. He’s a good kid, and we were more than happy to support him, but something about his approach didn’t sit well with me.
To give the cliché, “In my day…” speech: When I played sports in elementary school, we sold candy bars door to door. I had to walk the neighborhood, ring the doorbell, and muster up a quick, convincing pitch before the door closed in my face. I had to explain the variety of chocolates I had available – bars with or without nuts, milk or dark chocolate. Over time, I realized that the most common question behind, “How much do they cost?” was “Which one do you like the best?” so I adjusted my “elevator pitch” to include, “My favorite is the Milk Chocolate!”
I experimented with different sales pitches, depending on who answered the door. If a mother answered, I tried to play up my cuteness. If a father opened the door, I would emphasize the life lessons I was learning through sports. At first, I’d get excited if a kid answered – what kid doesn’t want candy bars? – but quickly realized they weren’t the decision maker, and learned to not waste my breath and simply ask, “Is your mom or dad home?”
Later, as a junior high paperboy, I had to go door to door every month to collect my customer’s subscription fees. Again, I had to look the adult in the eye, apologize for interrupting them during their dinner, speak clearly, and articulate why I was standing on their front porch.
You are probably expecting me to say, “Thanks to these experiences, I am now a supremely confident communicator!” But the truth is, even with all this practice in my formative years, I’m still extremely introverted and struggle with small talk in both business and personal settings. I distinctly remember being at the mall with a friend sometime in the ‘80s, being deathly afraid to ask an adult for the time – even though I risked missing my curfew and sacrificing more time at the arcade.
And that’s what worries me about the next generation. If I still struggle even after all those face-to-face encounters, being forced to communicate in frightening and awkward situations, what is going to happen to kids today who rarely have to ask for anything in person? The ability to communicate and persuade isn’t just reserved for salespeople – it’s a fundamental life skill:
- Whether with friends, family, or coworkers, resolving conflicts requires making your case and finding common ground.
- Convincing friends to try a new restaurant or getting a landlord to make repairs in a timely fashion all depend on clear, persuasive communication.
- Leadership in all walks of life demands rallying people behind a vision, navigating change, and motivating teams.
How will the next generation develop these skills if their only “ask” is a mass text to distant acquaintances? The most troubling part is that this high schooler surpassed his fundraising goal of $900 without ever having a single real conversation – he’s being rewarded for avoiding direct human interaction! He’s two years from going off to college, and I worry that the “real world” is going to hit this kid like a ton of bricks!
You can laugh at me and call me old-fashioned and tell me I don’t understand how the world works today, and there may be some truth to that. But I’m not alone – experts warn that as our world grows more digitized and dependent on artificial intelligence, those who can offer genuine human connection will stand out.
If we want the next generation to truly thrive, we need to prioritize and nurture authentic, face-to-face communication. Technology is a powerful tool, but it must never become a substitute for real connection. Let’s encourage our kids to step out from behind their screens, knock on doors, and learn the art of conversation, persuasion, and empathy. Because in a world increasingly run by algorithms, the most uniquely human skills will be the ones that matter most. There is hope for the next generation – if we help them rediscover what it means to truly connect.