Message to elderly: We need to talk, not be scared of each other

If we're going to work efficiently together, we need to understand each other.

I've had to stop sitting next to businessmen on the bus. They always try to fold themselves inwards when I sit down.

It makes me think they have flat pack internal organs they could disassemble on demand. And I can't deal with such organic origami. So I had to stop sitting with them. Now my options are just other single women and old ladies wearing hats with elastic chin straps.

But you can't knock it. Yesterday I sat down with a friend of mine opposite an old lady. She was wearing a cardigan and smelt faintly of lime marmalade.

My friend, who is brilliantly and painfully eccentric, started explaining to me the relationship between Zodiac signs and aphrodisiac foods. (Apparently mine's garlic.) She turned to the old lady and said, ignoring every rule of public transport etiquette, "What star sign are you? I'll tell you your aphrodisiac!" The old lady leaned forward, winked and said, "it's a little late for me, dear."

Absolute. Magic. My friend and I were reduced to paralytic giggles and we had to hobble off the bus supporting each other. Marmalade lady, I salute you. You made me think about intergenerational conversations and how much I love them. Not just with octogenarians, but with anyone older than me.

I've written before about the diamond wisdom I learned from book clubbing with 30-somethings. And about how working has showed me what swagger middle-aged babes have. And how over the summer I forced my poor 40-something boss to explain everything from the history of Maori-Pakeha tension in New Zealand electoral politics to cricket. God, it was brilliant.

Such wisdom. Such insight. Such inexhaustible tolerance for my ignorance.

Last week, I wrote about how I have an irrational fear of ageing. It prompted a bunch of older people to tell me how I really didn't need to be scared. And again I got another insight into this mystical, glittering world of intergenerational conversation. And again I remembered why it's so priceless.

We really don't talk enough. But we really should. In fact, we really need to. Not only because I need someone to jabber to. But because the proportion of New Zealand's labour force aged 55 and over will grow to 1 in 4 by 2020. This means that our workforce is going to have a high age disparity. If we're going to work efficiently together, we need to understand each other.

And talking to each other has a number of benefits.

One being that young people are really very worried about things that don't seem to faze older generations as much - like ageing or parallel parking. (I've had easier experiences grooming polar bears). And we'd really like to know some strategies for dealing with them. But as you get older you forget that you once felt that way, which means you can assume it was never a problem. So you never think to bring it up, and we stay stressed about things that are probably fine.

We also need to talk because it offers such a breadth of knowledge and experience. If we only talk to people like ourselves we only hear the same arguments and opinions. That's dull and doesn't really offer a historical perspective on things. Talking to older people shows how things have evolved over time. They offer different opinions seasoned with historical experience and wisdom. That's crucially important when it comes to understanding present issues.

And lastly, we need to talk because I reckon we're both afraid of each other. I've noticed that older people avoid packs of teenagers on the street, or even lone young things, and walk past staring firmly at the floor.

It's very irrational, and very normal, to be scared of young people. I know I am. Sixteen-year-olds put the fear of God in me. I hid in the dairy the other night rather than walk through a pack of them. But I know deep down that we're not scary.

Don't let the resting bitch face fool you. I eat yoghurt! I regularly wear gym shorts as knickers because I forget to do my washing!

To be honest, we're more scared of you. You and your impressive ability to get your shit together. How do you do it? It's terrifying.

I know from my adult friends that you're just as harmless as we are. Except that we don't get a chance to tell each other this because we're too busy being intimidated by each other. We need to talk so we can stop being so petrified of the other side.

So we really need to talk. It's not about me, it's not about you, it's not about the unwashed dishes ... it is just that it would be nice to say hello.