Let me first congratulate you on taking the momentous step of touring the Scorched Forest retirement community, which was developed specifically with the needs of senior millennials in mind. It’s never easy, but you can rest assured that your millennial family member—I’m talking about you, Grandpa Josh!—will enjoy a level of care and compassion here that he’d consider nothing short of “totally Gucci.”
Our accommodations were meticulously designed to reflect the dull, vaguely palliative, mid-century interiors that our residents were obsessed with in their twenties and thirties. Our pink walls, mint floors, and rose-gold accents create a tranquil, womb-like oasis, and also make the place feel like a coffee shop that sells Hillary Clinton novelty tube socks, which our residents love.
Our facility also contains approximately four hundred throw pillows decorated with brushstroke outlines of breasts.
If you feel that the dozens of “RISE ’N’ GRIND” neon signs are a bit much, just know that we agree. We tried removing them last month, but the millennials revolted by launching a petition on XJABBER, the only social-media platform they’re comfortable using, as all of today’s other platforms require at least a couple of neural implants.
On most afternoons, our millennials gather in the central parlor. You never know what you’ll find them doing! Sometimes they’re playing Catan. Other times, they’re prattling on about “Stranger Things” to a passing nurse. Mostly, though, they’re playing Catan while scrolling on the disabled dummy phones we provide to all residents. Don’t worry—the phones display only Adele GIFs, daily horoscopes, and long-outdated headlines suggesting that we can still prevent the worst effects of climate change if we act fast.
“I’m not superstitious, but I am a little stitious!” That’s a line that Michael Scott delivers in Season 4, Episode 1 of “The Office,” a television show that aired sixty-five years ago. If you hear somebody yell it, don’t worry—around here, it passes for an original joke and is how residents indicate that they haven’t lost their sense of humor.
Before you even ask—yes, we have this many succulents on purpose.
We’re proud to offer an array of activities to stimulate our residents’ minds and bodies. On Wednesdays, Zax, who was born in 2058, guides our millennials through a series of rote, familiar movements that now function as strength-building routines. Some of Zax’s popular exercises include reaching across a pothos plant to water another pothos plant, and the biceps-blasting workout of pulling a PopSocket off one of those old brick iPhones that predate the cybernetic contact lenses that most of us currently wear.
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That Redbubble print over there? Of a single palm frond silhouetted against a pink background? Our residents can stare at it for hours.
Naturally, the aging process has its challenges, and we offer numerous resources for our millennials to confront them. One of our more enterprising residents, Amanda, just launched a support group for millennials whose tattoos of birds flying through hexagons now resemble angry clouds birthing meatballs. On Tuesdays, she counsels millennials with stick-and-poke tattoos of a single rose—a symbol that was unfortunately coöpted by radical X Æ A-12 Musk supporters, in 2055.
Resident Matt P., meanwhile, has led a group for six years to help residents cope with the fact that they never wound up splurging on a Coachella ticket, even though, in retrospect, it cost only as much as two months’ worth of Chipotle burrito bowls.
To help residents stave off ennui, we have a computer lab (modelled after a Starbucks) where residents can fill out Excel spreadsheets and organize Zoom meetings. The tasks are completely pointless, just like most of our millennials’ old jobs, but they’re remarkably effective at making residents feel that they did something productive with their day.
Thank you so much for visiting our facility! On your way out, you should take a peek at our courtyard lounge, outfitted with Edison light bulbs, a steady soundtrack of Vampire Weekend, and draft beers on tap. Don’t worry: they’re all craft, and they’re all I.P.A.s.
Wait. Hold on. Grandpa Josh was born in 1997? Oh, dear. That technically makes him Gen Z. He’d probably be more comfortable at Ashen Coral Reef Manor. Just drive a couple of miles down the road—when you see the lime-green bungalow with Crocs and bucket hats scattered across the front lawn, you’ll know you’re at the right place.