7 simple tasks Boomers handle easily that overwhelm everyone under 40

There’s a specific panic that grips you when you need to mail something important. Not email—actual mail, with stamps and everything. Suddenly you’re googling “where to buy stamps,” “how many stamps,” and “what is certified mail?” Meanwhile, your parents have already mailed three packages, renewed their passport, and sent handwritten thank-you notes to everyone at their high school reunion.

This isn’t about intelligence. Millennials and Gen Z navigate digital mazes that would leave most boomers catatonic. But ask them to write a check, read a paper map, or call a stranger, and watch the existential dread bloom. These analog skills aren’t obsolete—they’re orphaned, stranded in the gap between the generation that mastered them and the ones who assumed they’d never need them.

1. Making phone calls without rehearsing first

Boomers just… call people. No script, no panic, no three-day psychological preparation. Need to dispute a charge? They’re already dialing. Restaurant reservation? Done. They treat phone calls like we treat texts—casually, reflexively, without performance anxiety.

Meanwhile, younger generations treat phone calls like TED talks. We rehearse our pizza order. We write bullet points for calling the dentist. The phone rings and our nervous system thinks we’re being hunted. Boomers grew up when phones were the only option for immediate contact. For them, calling strangers is breathing. For us, it’s a cardiac event.

2. Writing checks without an existential crisis

Watch a boomer write a check—it’s like watching them sign their name. Automatic, unconscious, ten seconds flat. Date, amount, signature, done. They even understand those cryptic numbers at the bottom.

Ask anyone under forty to write a check and watch them become medieval monks. “Wait, I write the number AND spell it out? What’s the memo line? Is cursive required?” We approach checkbooks like ancient texts requiring translation. Half of us Google which numbers are routing versus account. Boomers just know, the same way they know their Social Security number and their childhood best friend’s landline.

3. Reading paper maps and existing without GPS

Hand a boomer a paper map and they become human navigation systems. They triangulate position, plot routes, and give directions using landmarks that apparently only they can see. “Turn left at where the Woolworth’s used to be” somehow gets you there.

The rest of us without Google Maps are essentially feral children. We can’t even direct people to our own homes using words. “It’s by that Starbucks—no, the other one” is peak navigation for us. Boomers understand cardinal directions, estimate distances, and always know where north is. They have internal compasses. We have internal screaming.

4. Fixing things without YouTube University

Toilet running? Boomers grab tools. Lamp flickering? They’re already unscrewing something. They approach broken objects with the confidence of someone who believes the physical world follows learnable rules.

Younger generations treat minor repairs like international diplomacy. We need three YouTube videos, two Reddit threads, and emotional support before attempting anything. The concept of “figuring it out” by looking at something is alien technology. Boomers grew up when things were meant to be repaired, not replaced. They understand springs and screws. We understand free shipping and warranty disclaimers.

5. Parallel parking without technological intervention

Boomers parallel park like they’re pouring coffee—smoothly, absently, while discussing mortgage rates. No cameras, no sensors, just mirrors and whatever spatial witchcraft they possess. They slide into spots that violate physics.

Drivers under forty treat parallel parking like performing surgery. Even with backup cameras and cars that literally park themselves, we’ll circle blocks indefinitely searching for pull-through spots. The skill isn’t extinct—it’s atrophied from technological coddling and pure avoidance.

6. Remembering phone numbers like human databases

Ask a boomer for someone’s phone number and they’ll recite ten digits from 1987. Their childhood home address? Instant recall. Their doctor’s office? No hesitation. Their brains are analog contact lists, no cloud required.

We don’t even know our own phone numbers. We know maybe three: ours (sometimes), 911, and possibly Mom’s. If our phones died tomorrow, we’d be socially marooned, unable to contact anyone or navigate anywhere. Boomers memorized numbers because they had to dial them repeatedly. We tap pictures of faces.

7. Having conversations with strangers without dying inside

Boomers talk to everyone. Grocery lines, waiting rooms, elevators—all legitimate conversation venues. They’ll extract life stories while buying bananas. By the time their oil change ends, they’re invited to the mechanic’s daughter’s wedding.

Younger people treat public conversation like social terrorism. We wear earbuds as shields, avoiding eye contact like it causes blindness. The thought of airplane small talk triggers fight-or-flight responses. We’ve architected our entire lives to avoid these exact interactions that boomers actively pursue, apparently missing the awkwardness gene that evolution gave the rest of us.

Final thoughts

Here’s what’s really happening: we’ve each mastered the technology of our formative years. Boomers parallel park because they had to. We troubleshoot Wi-Fi because we have to. They memorized phone numbers; we memorize passwords. They fixed carburetors; we clear cache.

The real insight isn’t that one generation is more capable—it’s that we’re all helplessly competent at whatever the world demanded of our twenty-year-old selves. Boomers aren’t better at these tasks through superiority; they’re better through five decades of practice.

But maybe these orphaned skills matter. Not everything needs an app. Sometimes a phone call really is faster than seventeen emails. Sometimes you actually need to write a check. And sometimes—just sometimes—that boomer parallel parking confidence would prevent the fifteen-point turn you’re about to attempt.

The analog world isn’t gone. It’s just waiting, occasionally demanding we remember how to navigate without GPS, communicate without typing, and somehow, impossibly, write “seventy-three dollars and forty-seven cents” on a piece of paper that banks somehow still accept as money.