I recently had the honor of providing feedback to industry up-and-comers at Portfolio Night hosted by All Those Creative OKC. If you’ve been around for a while, you’ve heard the endless pearl clutching about the moral and intellectual decline of younger generations entering this business. Personally, I’ve clutched enough to turn my hand into a pincer. 

The corporate doomsayers and Chicken Little journalists haven’t exactly helped. There are literally millions of articles, podcasts and news clips labeling today’s young people soft. “We’re raising a generation of wimps,” proclaims Arnold Schwarzenegger. 

The collective outpouring of grief could make you believe that helicopter parents, timeout corners and therapy plushies have ruined an entire generation. But to be fair to our young professionals, the Governator isn’t exactly a neutral judge of ANYONE’S inner fortitude.

Hand-wringing aside, I’m here to share the good news: the death of hunger, grit and inner fire is greatly exaggerated. Today’s young professionals are gonna be just fine. 

On this particular night, I reviewed the work and resumes of three aspiring young pros. And I was greatly heartened to discover they have their heads screwed on straight. These guys exuded a cocktail of tenacity, conviction, fighting spirit and humility. They knew what they were about. They knew where they wanted to go. All they wanted was a little direction on the road to becoming dangerous.

That’s what struck me most. They wanted to know how to get better. How to tighten the thinking. How to spot the Achilles heel in an otherwise solid idea. They wanted reps, and they didn’t melt into the carpet. If that’s soft, then we’ve lost the plot. 

Truth is, the doomsdayers are confusing self-awareness with weakness. This generation has done something that scared the hell out of every creative director who came before them. They've normalized admitting what they don't know. They're honest about their blind spots. That's strategic intelligence, not fragility.

In my generation, we faked it till we made it. We nodded in meetings about concepts we didn't fully grasp. And we called it confidence.

These kids? They'd rather get better than look good. That's a different kind of toughness.

The real test of resilience isn't whether you can take a punch. It's whether you show up for the next round. Because this business will humble you. Your best ideas will die in committee. You'll lose pitches you should've won. You'll win pitches you probably shouldn't have.

What matters is whether you learn from it or just survive it. Whether you let the setbacks sharpen or embitter. The young professionals I met at Portfolio Night aren't worried about looking tough. They're focused on getting better. They know that growth requires feedback, and feedback requires vulnerability, and vulnerability requires strength.

So to my fellow veterans who spend their time lamenting the decline of younger generations: maybe the problem isn't them. Maybe the problem is that we're measuring their strength by outdated metrics. Stoicism isn't the only form of resilience. 

These guys are asking better questions than we did at their age. And that's exactly what every generation is supposed to do. Portfolio Night reminded me why events like this matter. Not because young professionals need our approval. But because they deserve our honesty, our experience, and our investment in their success. 

I left that evening more optimistic about the future of this business than I've been in years. Not because these young gunners are perfect. They're not. None of us are. But because they're asking the right questions, doing the work, and showing up with the kind of determination that can't be faked.

The kids are alright. And they're going to push this industry forward. That's not a prediction. That's a promise. I saw it with my own eyes.