Still half-awake and hoping some caffeine will turn you into a functioning human, you walk into your neighborhood coffee shop for a quick latte. When you finally reach the counter, you offer a polite smile. The kind of polite smile that’s been exchanged between customers and service workers for decades. Centuries maybe. 

The barista looks up. 

No smile. No small talk. They don’t even ask you what you’d like to order. With a blank stare, they wait for you to hit them with a menu item. 

It’s not blatantly rude. 

The coffee was made correctly. No one was particularly hostile or antagonistic. But there’s an emptiness to the interaction. It seems like somewhere between the counter and the coffee machine, the tiny social ritual of being pleasant to strangers has disappeared. 

If you’ve spent any time online recently, you’ve probably heard this called the “Gen Z stare”. It’s the vacant look younger service workers give customers, instead of the performed friendliness that’s typically encouraged in customer-facing jobs. Like many internet trends, it’s become both 

a punchline and a Rorschach test. Some see it as evidence that customer service is dead. Others see it as a long-overdue protest against the performance of happiness for minimum wage. 

Subconsciously, I think we consider friendliness as part of the product. When you’re ordering coffee or checking into a hotel, we’ve come to expect employees to smile, make small talk, and project, maybe unrealistic, levels of enthusiasm. Sociologists have dubbed it emotional labor: the work of disguising your emotions to make someone else feel comfortable. It’s labor that isn’t compensated on a paycheck but is expected nonetheless. 

The cashier who laughed at your unfunny joke? The same joke they’ve heard three times this week? Emotional labor. 

The flight attendant who reassured nervous passengers while dealing with their own stress? Emotional labor. 

The barista who remembers your name, asks about your weekend, and tells you to have a wonderful day after serving hundreds of customers? Emotional labor. 

Say it with me now: labor. 

I think we’ve taken friendliness for granted. Anyone who’s worked retail, food service, or hospitality knows how taxing it is to keep a smile glued to your face while dealing with rude customers and the standard chaos of most entry-level, customer-facing jobs. 

As someone who’s worked in retail myself, I get why younger workers are questioning whether they should have to perform for that role at all. Yet, as a customer, I sympathize with the discomfort shoppers feel when met with a silent scowl.

Humans are social creatures. 

Simple interactions like a smile from a cashier, a joke from a bartender, and a friendly nod from a stranger make public spaces feel warmer. Most customers aren’t asking for endless enthusiasm. They simply don’t want to feel like their presence is an inconvenience. 

Somewhere along the way, however, we’ve confused politeness with performance. 

There’s a meaningful difference between treating someone respectfully and pretending they’re your closest friend. Workers shouldn’t have to fake excitement over every order, but acknowledging another person’s presence with basic courtesy doesn’t seem like an unreasonable expectation either. Likewise, customers shouldn’t expect employees to absorb disrespect simply because they’ve paid for something. 

This raises a surprisingly interesting question: is politeness something people inherently deserve, or something they earn? 

Maybe neither. 

Basic civility shouldn’t be conditional. You don’t earn a “please,” a “thank you,” or a moment of eye contact by spending enough money at the register. In the same way, employees don’t lose the right to be treated respectfully because they’re wearing a uniform. 

But the niceties are another issue. 

Enthusiasm, friendliness, and emotional investment are gifts people choose to give. Or not give. They can’t be demanded, and they can’t be purchased with a $6 latte. If your barista genuinely enjoys the small talk, that’s wonderful. If they’re simply polite and get your order right, that’s ok too. 

Maybe the “Gen Z stare” says less about one generation than it does about the changing nature of work itself. A lot of Gen Z employees entered the workforce during the pandemic,with rising costs of living, staffing shortages, and growing skepticism toward jobs that demand constant positivity without offering much other than minimal wages. 

But sometimes employees are just tired. Sometimes they’re shy. Sometimes they’re focused on getting through a busy shift. And sometimes they’re having a bad day, just like the customer standing across the counter. 

Consider the Gen Z stare a reminder that service workers are people first. The next time you order a morning coffee, don’t expect a performance. Don’t expect a personal connection on demand. 

Let’s all be a little more gracious to one another. Because in a world where everyone is tired and underpaid and overworked, a little grace can go a long way.

What’s your opinion on the Gen Z stare? Let us know your thoughts in the comments!