On one of my days off, I was sitting at a coffee shop when my phone buzzed with a message from a coworker.

“Tech issue here, any chance you can stop by?” they asked.

I’ve never been much of a computer whiz, but at the independent bookstore where I’ve worked for two years, I’m the go-to for technology problems among the staff. Granted, that’s because at 24, I’m the youngest employee by just about 30 years, with some of them easily passing as my grandmother.

On this particular day, a column of the spreadsheet we use to track coming releases had shifted, throwing the whole operation into disarray. All I had to do was right-click a few times, copy a few cells, and then I was on my way, hailed as a hero.

At first, I felt mostly confusion and a little bit of awe. How was this business functioning successfully with so little focus on technology?

But now, working with my baby boomer colleagues has changed my perspective on generational differences.

Our workplace differences were noticeable immediately

Typically, when I arrive for each shift, there’s a list of techy tasks from the prior days left for me: creating flyers for book clubs, adding to our online list of new arrivals, and formatting our recommendation sheets with the proper fonts.

My coworkers would typically rather tackle the analog tasks, which is fine with me — I’m happy to copy and paste while they reorganize shelves, sweep floors, and count coins.

For a long time, I considered most of the older generation’s tech problems to be a conscious resistance to society’s changing — and I get it, I would resist, too, if someone told me that after decades of functioning one way, I’d have to learn something entirely new to keep up.

The truth of it, though, is that I’ve come to understand that achieving computer proficiency is more like learning a language than acquiring a simple skill. It’s easy for me, because at 24, I’m a native speaker, but I have a new appreciation for just how difficult it would be to adapt.

When I attempt to give my coworkers rudimentary tech lessons, I don’t just keep reminding them of keyboard shortcuts. Instead, it’s become more effective to simply explain the concept’s meaning and then see if they can apply it.

Although they might still leave some of the larger digital tasks to me, they now seem to be able to work through smaller problems as they pop up.

I didn’t expect their habits at work to become my own

This job is far from the first time I’ve fallen in with a group of older women, as I spent most of my childhood afternoons trailing behind either one of my grandmothers, picking up their turns of phrase, their tastes in music, and their penchants for hot tea.

So, when I started working at the bookstore, I expected to get along with them, but I naively did not expect to learn so many lessons from their work style.

In a workforce that prizes efficiency, this independent bookstore is a place of intentional slowness. Throughout my education and entry into the working world, I tried to stand out by doing everything, everywhere, all the time. The bookstore is not like that.

Sure, there are tasks to be done and timetables to follow. Nevertheless, the store thrives on dawdling, on giving full attention to one thing, on getting to know people’s quirks, on asking questions and listening to the answers — all things my baby-boomer colleagues excel at.

When a customer walks through the doors, I’m always amazed at how my colleagues work. They can remember what this person bought last time they were in, if they usually shop for their grandchildren, and the trip they’re planning in the spring.

It’s not because they have especially impressive memories, but because they dedicate all their energy to helping customers and treat giving recommendations with the reverence they deserve.

My coworkers have shown me that in our field, the focus should be on connection, not simply convenience. It’s not always a race, but my colleagues still win each time.