I’ve lived in Philadelphia for more than 10 years, arriving from Washington, D.C. by way of Temple University. After graduation, I stayed — mostly because I could afford a one-bedroom apartment, had no interest in owning a car, and found comfort in a city I could easily walk. I became an adult here. If you’re doing the math, that puts me on the older end of Gen Z, the demographic categorized as chronically online, unmotivated, overconsuming, and generally unbothered.
Like most tired narratives, there’s a kernel of truth that’s been blown out of proportion. I saw the more interesting and nuanced version of the story firsthand this June, when I led a Central Philadelphia Development Corporation panel of early-career Philadelphians working in the fields of law, real estate, hospitality, and tourism.
Philadelphia has drawn more than 20,000 net new Gen Z residents in each of the last two years of available data, ranking us fourth among major U.S. cities and ahead of places including Chicago, Seattle, and San Diego. A few years ago, the conversations centered on millennials as a growing segment of Center City. Now, it’s the older Gen Z cohort making decisions about where to live, where to work, and what’s most important to them.
Despite being drawn to cities, Gen Z’s habits can seem at odds with what cities are built around: Research shows our generation drinks, dates, and socializes less than the generations before us.
It’s important to note that Gen Z’s experience has been largely shaped by the pandemic. For many it disrupted high school or college, a fragile window for figuring out who you are. I’d joined the workforce nine months earlier, in the office five days a week, before we were all sent home. For some of my peers, their first internships were fully remote, classes were online, and social conversations happened over a screen. For them, flexibility isn’t a way to work less. It’s all they’ve ever known.
I think this is a large part of where the strong push for work-life balance comes from. This generation saw, early and involuntarily, what it looked like to hold a full-time job alongside other aims and passions. That doesn’t mean they care less about their jobs.
This generation has simply expanded what work and life look like, centering on balance.
I heard a stat on a podcast from Suzy Welch, the former Harvard Business Review editor-in-chief who now researches values at NYU, that only 2 percent of Gen Z respondents rank achievement and work centrism among their top five values. She’s written about this gap in The Wall Street Journal, noting that those values are exactly what hiring managers prize most. And while that has been used as proof that Gen Z values are misaligned with their employers, I think this generation has simply expanded what work and life look like, centering on balance.
With advancements in technology and AI, some workers have found ways to be more efficient, freeing up time and mental bandwidth for more complex work. There’s still room for work to evolve.
With flexibility, a worker can show up in full capacity to the workplace. When asked, every person on the panel agreed that the office still matters, especially early on. It’s where mentorship happens, where the work finds you because someone saw you in the hallway, where you learn how to be a professional. I know that firsthand. Some of my closest friendships and most valuable mentors came from simply being in the same room as people, day after day, and I’m not sure those relationships would have taken root the same way if they’d begun as faces on a screen. Being present makes the rest effortless, too. Grabbing coffee, staying for a happy hour are the low-stakes moments where a colleague becomes a friend. That’s the intentionality behind this generation’s work-life balance: not less commitment, just more deliberate.
The same intentionality shows up in how people interact with community. Though our generation may be drinking less alcohol, there is still a desire to be together in person. I’m struck by the popularity of coffee shops, like Haraz, with hours as late as 10pm, that don’t serve alcohol at all.
But that desire for connection runs up against a harder truth: It’s expensive to be social. In a bar, the price of a mocktail can mirror the price of a cocktail, and it’s noticeable to us. Price sensitivity is central to our worldview as the phrase “in this economy?!” has been woven into our vocabulary. As costs rise, the milestones of the generations before us, like owning a home or supporting a family, feel less attainable. It’s impossible to overlook. Sit with it for too long, and it can feel bleak. It’s also a reality that will shape the future of cities.
The desire for walkability, authenticity, diversity, public transit, flexibility and cultural experiences remains strong. That list hasn’t changed, and Philadelphia already checks a remarkable number of those boxes.
The developers, employers, and planners shaping this city are building it for this generation and the one right behind us. We’re here, experiencing this city, many like myself by way of a college or university. For the early-career Philadelphians I spoke with on that panel, the question now is: What will it take to keep us here for the long term?
Lauren J. Smith is Director of Research and Special Projects at Center City District.
The Citizen welcomes guest commentary from community members who represent that it is their own work and their own opinion based on true facts that they know firsthand.
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