The pressure of living in an instantaneous environment can overwhelm some Net Geners. They know others are expecting an immediate response from them, and many experience feelings of saturation, craziness, and never having a moment of peace. Some wish they could disconnect by turning off their cell phones and logging off their computer, but they’re reluctant to do this because they fear missing an important message and don’t want to feel detached from their social environment.
E-mail is faster than talking, which is why Net Geners often prefer to communicate with people at work via electronic means rather than meeting them—unless it’s a first-time meeting or an important negotiation.
Many Net Geners would like their careers to progress at the same fast pace as the rest of their lives. They appreciate continual performance feedback from employers. It helps them gauge their progress and enhances their professional self-esteem and sense of career momentum. Loyalty is strengthened when Net Geners regularly receive feedback that helps them feel “on track” to being successful at the company. Conversely, loyalty may weaken if requests for regular feedback are not acknowledged in a short time frame. This alone may not cause them to switch jobs, but they will feel less emotionally satisfied at work.
>>> innovation
When I was a kid, the pace of innovation was glacial. I remember when the transistor radio came on the scene. I got one and took it to summer camp. We all had one. It was a wonderful innovation. And that radio and its predecessors didn’t really change for years. I also remember our first television. That thing lasted for many years as well, until a new innovation—color—appeared on the scene.
This generation, on the other hand, has been raised in a culture of invention. Innovation takes place in real time. Compare my transistor radio that lasted for years with today’s mobile devices that improve, sometimes dramatically, every few weeks. Today my kids want the new mobile device every few months, because the current one doesn’t have the capability of the new one. And as for televisions, flat-panel technology is an engine of innovation, dropping in price significantly every few months or so.
For marketers, there is no doubt that Net Geners want the latest and greatest product available—in ways that supersede the needs of their parents. The Net Geners live to stay current, whether it’s with their cell phone, iPod, or game console. The latest product makes their friends envious and contributes to their social status and their positive self-image.
Motorola came out three years ago with the RAZR, its ultrathin cell phone with built-in camera and music player. Samsung Group answered within a year with the Blade. Motorola responded with its SLVR, a phone even sleeker than its predecessor. “It’s like having a popular nightclub. You have to keep opening new ones. To stay cool, you have to speed up,” says Michael Greeson, president of market researcher The Diffusion Group.29
For Niki, her latest innovation is the Nike+ iPod Sport Kit. The Sport Kit allows a Nike+ shoe to talk to an iPod nano. The sensor uses a sensitive accelerometer to measure a runner’s activity; then it wirelessly transfers this data to the receiver on the runner’s iPod nano. As Apple’s website says: “You don’t just take iPod nano on your run. You let it take you. Music is your motivation. But what if you want to go further? Thanks to a unique partnership between Nike and Apple, your iPod nano becomes your coach. Your personal trainer. Your favorite workout companion.” As you run, iPod nano tells you your time, distance, pace, and calories burned via voice feedback that adjusts music volume as it plays. In addition to progress reports, voice feedback congratulates you when you’ve reached a personal best—your fastest pace, longest distance and time, or most calories burned. Voice feedback occurs automatically, according to predetermined intervals that vary by workout type. Niki loves her Nikes and nano: they help keep her fit.
In the workplace, innovation means rejecting the traditional command-and-control hierarchy and devising work processes that encourage collaboration and creativity. Former chairman and chief mentor N. R. Narayana Murthy at the Bangalore-based Infosys Technologies introduced the company’s “voice of youth” program eight years ago. Each year, nine top-performing young employees—all under thirty—participate in eight senior management council meetings, presenting and discussing their ideas with the top leadership team. “We believe these young ideas need the senior-most attention for them to be identified and fostered,” says Sanjay Purohit, associate vice president and head of corporate planning. Infosys CEO Nandan M. Nilekani concurs: “If an organization becomes too hierarchical, ideas that bubble up from younger people [aren’t going to be heard].”30
Infosys is on the right track. Net Geners don’t want to toil in the same old bureaucracies as their parents. They’ve grown up in an era of constant innovation and change, and want the workplace to be equally innovative and creative. Net Geners told us an innovative work environment is perceived to be leading edge, dynamic, creative, and efficient. Not surprisingly, an innovative workplace is expected to have leading-edge technology.
These are the eight norms of the Net Generation. They value freedom—freedom to be who they are, freedom of choice. They want to customize everything, even their jobs. They learn to be skeptical, to scrutinize what they see and read in the media, including the Internet. They value integrity—being honest, considerate, transparent, and abiding by their commitments. They’re great collaborators, with friends online and at work. They thrive on speed. They love to innovate. This is the Net Generation, and in the next few chapters, we will explore how those characteristics are displayed in different spheres of the Net Gen life and how, if you understand these norms, you can change your company, school or university, government, or family for the twenty-first century.
notes
1 “Idea Paper,” Syndicated Research Project, nGenera, 2008.
2 “The Net Generation: A Strategic Investigation,” Syndicated Research Project, nGenera, 2008 (survey of 1,750 respondents aged thirteen to twenty-nine, September–October 2006).
3 Tamina Vahidy, “Best Commuter Workplaces,” Line 56, October 20, 2006.
4 Frank Giancola, “Flexible Schedules: A Win-Win Reward,” Workspan , July 10, 2005, www.worldatwork.org.
5 Michelle Conlin, “Smashing the Clock,” BusinessWeek, December 11, 2006.
6 Bill Ward, “Power to the People,” Minneapolis Star Tribune, June 2, 2008.
7 “The Net Generation: A Strategic Investigation,” Syndicated Research Project, nGenera, 2008 (survey of 1,750 respondents aged thirteen to twenty-nine, September–October 2006).
8 Ibid.
9 Lillie Guyer, “Scion Connects in Out of Way Places: Toyota Reaches Out to Gen Y Drivers Without Screaming, ‘Buy This Car!’ ” Advertising Age, February 21, 2005, adage.com.
10 “The Net Generation: A Strategic Investigation,” Syndicated Research Project, nGenera, 2008 (survey of 1,750 respondents aged thirteen to twenty-nine, September–October 2006).
11 Almost two-thirds of Net Genera tell us they search for information about products that interest them before purchase. They compare and contrast product information online; they read blogs, forums, and reviews; and they consult friends. In the digital world, it’s easy to be a smart shopper. Those at the top of the technology-adoption curve were the most demanding: our survey found that 69 percent of the Bleeding Edge or first adopters said they “wouldn’t buy a product unless it has the exact features I want.” This number slowly dropped as one went down the technology scale, reaching a level of 46 percent for Luddites. Almost two-thirds of Net Genera say they take the time to find the lowest price, which isn’t surprising, since many work for minimum wage or a limited salary. They want value without jeopardizing quality. Interestingly, most Net Geners are dubious about online reviews, thinking many are the product of disgruntled buyers. “People who write reviews are those who are really bitter about stupid little things,” a twenty-two-year-old woman told our researchers. Only 15 percent of Net Genera as a whole agreed with the statement; however, when we
study the statement “I frequently write online reviews for products I have bought,” the number jumps to 42 percent of those atop the technology-adoption pyramid.
12 “Campaign for Real Beauty,” internally computed numbers, Dove, www.youtube.com, April 30, 2008. Number of views tabulated on April 30, 2008, includes multiple copies of identical videos posted to YouTube; includes only videos with more than 100,000 views.
13 “The Net Generation: A Strategic Investigation,” Syndicated Research Project, nGenera, 2008 (survey of 1,750 respondents aged thirteen to twenty-nine, September–October 2006).
14 Ibid.
15 U.S. Patent No. 6820062 (issued November 16, 2004).
16 Don Tapscott and David Ticoll, The Naked Corporation: How the Age of Transparency Will Revolutionize Business (Free Press, 2003).
17 “The Net Generation: A Strategic Investigation,” Syndicated Research Project, nGenera, 2008 (survey of 1,750 respondents aged thirteen to twenty-nine, September–October, 2006).
18 Ibid.
19 Ibid.
20 David Richards, “Free Illegal Music Beats iTunes,” SmartHouse, November 30, 2005, www.smarthouse.com.au.
21 “The Net Generation: A Strategic Investigation,” Syndicated Research Project, nGenera, 2008 (survey of 1,750 respondents aged thirteen to twenty-nine, September–October 2006).
22 Mary Madden and Amanda Lennart, “Pew Internet Project Data Memo,” Pew Internet and American Life Project, July 31, 2003.
23 Frank Rose, “And Now, a Word from Our Customers,” Wired 14, no. 12, December 2006.
24 “The Net Generation: A Strategic Investigation,” Syndicated Research Project, nGenera, 2008 (survey of 1,750 respondents aged thirteen to twenty-nine, September–October 2006).
25 Alvin Toffler, Future Shock (Bantam Books, 1971).
26 Don Tapscott, The Digital Economy: Promise and Peril in the Age of Networked Intelligence (McGraw-Hill, 1995).
27 “The Net Generation: A Strategic Investigation,” Syndicated Research Project, nGenera, 2008 (survey of 1,750 respondents aged thirteen to twenty-nine, September–October 2006).
28 Ibid.
29 Steve Hamm and Ian Rowley, “Speed Demons,” BusinessWeek, March 27, 2006.
30 Jena McGregor, “The World’s Most Innovative Companies,” BusinessWeek , April 24, 2006.
< Henry Jenkins >
love online
Excerpted from Fans, Bloggers, and Gamers (pp. 173–77).
HENRY JENKINS is Provost’s Professor of Communication, Journalism and Cinematic Arts at the University of Southern California. His publications include Confronting the Challenges of Participatory Culture (2009), Convergence Culture (2006), and Fans, Bloggers, and Gamers: Exploring Participatory Culture (2006). He holds a Ph.D. in communication arts from the University of Wisconsin and a master’s degree in communication studies from the University of Iowa. More information at henryjenkins.org.
WHEN MY SON, HENRY, was fifteen, we made a trip from Cambridge to Omaha so that he could meet his girlfriend face-to-face for the first time. Though they met online, this is not the story of a virtual relationship; their feelings were no less real to them than the first love of any other teenager, past or present. When I was suffering the first pangs of unrequited adolescent longing, there weren’t a lot of girls in my immediate vicinity who would risk the stigma involved in going out with me. One summer I met a few girls at a camp for honors students, but our relationships withered once we returned to our own schools and neighborhoods. My son, finding slim pickings at school, cast a wider net, seeking kindred spirits wherever they dwelt in a neighborhood as big as cyberspace itself. Online, he had what it took—good communication skills.
He met Sarah in an online discussion group; they talked through private e-mail; after getting to know her a little he finally got the courage to phone her. They dated in chat rooms. They sent each other virtual candy, flowers, and cards downloaded off various websites. They spoke of “going out,” even though they sat thousands of miles apart.
Sarah’s father often screened her telephone calls and didn’t want her to talk with boys. He didn’t pay the same degree of attention to what she did online. He quickly ran up against the difference between his expectations of appropriate courtship and the realities of online love. He felt strongly that boys should not talk to his daughter on the telephone or ask her out on dates unless they were personally known to him. Henry had to go through the ritual of meeting him on the telephone and asking his permission to see her before we could make the trip.
Long-distance communication between lovers is hardly new. The exchange of love letters was central to the courtship of my grandparents (who were separated by the First World War) and of my parents (who were separated by my father’s service after the Second World War). By the time my wife and I were courting, we handed our love letters back and forth in person and read them aloud to each other. Our courtship was conducted face-to-face or through late-night telephone conversations. The love letter was a residual form—though we still have a box of yellowing letters we periodically reread with misty-eyed nostalgia.
Sarah and Henry’s romantic communications might seem, at first, more transient, bytes passing from computer to computer. Yet he backlogged all of their chats and surprised Sarah with a printout. In this fashion, he preserved not only the carefully crafted love letters but the process of an evolving relationship. It was as if my wife and I had tape-recorded our first strolls in the park together.
Henry and Sarah would not have met outside the virtual communities the Internet facilitates. But they were both emphatic that purely digital communication could not have sustained their relationship. The first time Sarah confirmed that she shared my son’s affections, she spoke her words of love on a chat room without realizing that he had been accidentally disconnected. By the time he was able to get back online, she had left in frustration. Wooing must be difficult if you can’t even be sure the other party is there.
The medium’s inadequacies are, no doubt, resulting in significant shifts in the vocabulary of love. In cyberspace, there is no room for the ambiguous gestures that characterized another generation’s fumbling first courtships. In a multiuser domain, one doesn’t type, “Henry smiles. He moves his hand subtly toward her in a gesture that might be averted at the last moment if she seems not to notice or to be shocked.” The language of courtly love emerged under similar circumstances: distant lovers putting into writing what they could not say aloud.
They may have met online, but they communicated through every available channel. Their initial exchange of photographs produced enormous anxiety as they struggled to decide what frozen image or images should anchor their more fluid online identities. In choosing, my son attempted to negotiate between what he thought would be desirable to another fifteen-year-old and what wouldn’t alienate her conservative parents.
The photographs were followed by other tangible objects, shipped between Nebraska and Massachusetts. These objects were cherished because they had achieved the physical intimacy still denied the geographically isolated teens. Henry sent her, for example, the imprint of his lips, stained in red wine on stationery. In some cases, they individually staged rituals they could not perform together. Henry preserved a red rose he purchased for himself the day she first agreed to go steady. Even in an age of instant communication, they still sent handwritten notes. These two teens longed for the concrete, for being together in the same space, for things materially passed from person to person.
Barring that, they cherished their weekly telephone calls. Talking on the telephone helped make Sarah real for Henry. When his friends at school challenged his inability to “produce” his girlfriend for inspection and asked how he knew she wasn’t a guy, he cited their telephone conversations. Even for these teens, the fluidity of electronic identities posed threats. Once, early in their relationship, Henry jokingly told Sarah that they went to the same school, never imagining that she would believe him. The results were both far
cical and tragic as she searched in vain for her mystery date.
After a while, they started to fear that they might break up without ever having seen each other in the flesh, and they didn’t want it to end that way. After some pleading, I agreed to accompany Henry on the trip. Henry and Sarah first “met” in an airport. He almost didn’t recognize her since she was so different from the single photograph she had sent. From the start, their interaction was intensely physical. Henry said that what had given him the most pleasure was being able to play with her hair, and Sarah punched him in the arm so many times he was black and blue. Sarah’s mother and I watched two slouching teens shuffle through the terminal, learning to walk in rhythm.
As would-be dramatists, they wondered what they should say at that first meeting. Sarah solved the problem by shouting “Sony PlayStation” across the crowded airport. The two of them had a running debate about the relative merits of different game systems. Their first date was to an arcade where Sarah made good her long-standing boasts and beat him at Street Fighter II before Henry got his revenge on NFL GameDay. Sarah made the state finals in a video-game competition, so it was no surprise this proved central to the time they spent together. Sarah’s mother purchased some new games and—ever the chaperone—brought the game system down to the parlor from Sarah’s room so they could play together.
If we are going to talk, from Cambridge to Omaha, with people we’ve never met before, we need something to talk about. For Henry and Sarah, that common culture consisted not only of different games and game systems, but also a shared enthusiasm for professional wrestling. They met on rec.sport.pro-wrestling, brought together by a shared interest in the Undertaker, a star of the World Wrestling Federation. They both were participants in an electronic pro wrestling role-playing game. Henry brought a cardboard sign with him to a televised wrestling event, pushed his way through the crowd, and got on camera so he could send Sarah a broadcast message.
The Digital Divide Page 16