Snowflakes vs Dinosaurs: When Generations Look in the Mirror

When we wrote about the new generation of veterinary leaders a few weeks back, we weren't quite prepared for what followed. The response was massive: thoughtful, pointed, sometimes generous, occasionally barbed. People were so animated they even wrote letters! Clearly, we'd prodded something that needed prodding.

Well, we listened to every comment, and one thing became crystal clear: there's a proper divide here. Most of the responses came from older vets. Some leapt to defend the younger generation, others doubled down with barely concealed frustration, and a fair few perched somewhere in the middle, diplomatically hedging their bets.

What we didn't hear much of? The voices of the younger vets themselves. Perhaps they're just too used to being talked over rather than actually listened to.

So here we are again. Not to argue the toss, but to hold up a mirror and ask: how did we get here, and more importantly, where do we go next?

The Great Pendulum Swing

For decades, veterinary medicine has worn toughness like a badge of honour. Resilience, perfectionism, sacrifice: these were the hallmarks of a "proper" vet. Sixty-hour weeks, crushing caseloads, pushing yourself until something felt like breaking, then tightening your belt, stiffening your lip and pushing on regardless. That was just how it was done, and frankly, it built some seriously colourful characters and drove extraordinary standards of care.

But it also built something else: cultures where burnout was practically a rite of passage. It built a profession with a worryingly high rate of suicide.

Now the younger generation has caught that pendulum and given it one almighty shove in the opposite direction. They talk about sustainability, work-life balance, and heaven forbid boundaries. They want to serve animals and their people whilst still having something resembling a life outside the clinic doors.

The audacity of it, eh?

But honestly, when you stop to think about it, wanting space for family, friends, the odd hobby, and basic human health seems like a reasonable ask. Such things are the foundation of a career that might last more than a couple of years without requiring therapy and a change of profession.

Where older vets sometimes see disengagement or a lack of commitment, what's often there instead is simply a desire to practise veterinary medicine without sacrificing everything else that makes life worth living. They're not less passionate about the work. They're just trying to sustain that passion for the long haul, not burn it out in a spectacular flame.

Of course, it's also worth acknowledging that in many markets, younger vets have inherited dramatically improved conditions: shorter average hours, superior equipment and resources, clearer clinical guidance, and significantly higher starting salaries, often with attractive sign-on bonuses, particularly in the US. This fuels resentment amongst older vets who earned far less whilst working considerably harder. This too is both real and, when you stop to think about it, a reasonable thing to be a bit upset about.

But what we feel and what we do with those feelings next is likely the greater issue.

Different generations might draw the line in different places, but the underlying principle remains sound: high volume without strong support leads to people breaking and risks system collapse. Sound familiar? High support without meaningful volume leads to financial ruin and organisational collapse. A healthy workplace needs both: a challenging volume of purposeful work supported by robust systems that help people thrive under pressure.

In short, we need to find the professional "Goldilocks Zone", and one thing is for sure, generations blaming each other is not getting us there.

The Missing Bridge

One reason this clash feels so particularly sharp is that we've lost something vital along the way: proper mentorship.

There was a time when older vets ran their practices for decades and naturally guided those coming through the ranks. Wisdom and skill were transferred appropriately. Corporatisation and the pace of change have largely eroded that structure. The bridges that once connected generations have been systematically dismantled, leaving both sides stranded on their respective islands.

Without mentors, younger vets are left to figure things out by trial and error, often getting labelled as fragile when what they really need is someone to show them the ropes. Without mentees, older vets lose the opportunity to pass on hard-won wisdom, leaving frustration where teaching should be.

Mentorship doesn't look like a wagging finger or "in my day" lectures. It's a two-way street where real learning happens. Younger vets have plenty worth teaching too about wellbeing, communication, and how to build cultures that don't chew people up and spit them out. The magic happens when both generations choose to learn from and energise, rather than fight each other.

Leadership: The Missing Piece

If there's one skill set that could turn this generational standoff into something more productive, it's leadership. But it's not just about skills, it's about mindset too.

Older vets might have decades of clinical experience, but if they want to pass it on effectively, they need the leadership skills to mentor with empathy, communicate across generational lines, and build the kind of trust that makes learning possible.

Younger vets might bring fresh ideas, energy and a healthier definition of what strength looks like, but if they want to shape the future of the profession, they'll need the clinical and communication skills to navigate early career challenges and then the leadership skills to step confidently into ownership, guide teams through complexity, and carry responsibility without breaking under its weight. Such things are rarely learned on courses alone.

Curiosity is what brings us together; judgment is what drives us apart. Leadership is what turns clash into collaboration. Without it, we're stuck with mirrors reflecting old frustrations and pendulums swinging wildly back and forth. With it, we can build practices that are both resilient and sustainable: cultures that care for people as well as pets, and a profession where generations actually work alongside each other instead of past each other.

A Shared Challenge

Snowflakes. Dinosaurs. At the end of the day, these are just further examples of the modern trends of labelling that which you hate to avoid the harder work of actually figuring out useful solutions.

To the older generation: your wisdom is still desperately needed. The profession needs you to guide, mentor, and light the path forward, not to turn younger colleagues into carbon copies of yourselves, but to help them succeed in their own way. That means getting over the "we never had it so easy" mentality and recognising that perhaps, just perhaps, some of the changes they're pushing for might actually be improvements.

To the younger generation: this profession is in a fragile moment. Vocation feels perilously close to being dead. But it has been a fantastic place for the dinosaurs for decades and this experience is available to you too. It's yours to inherit, but it's going to need your courage, fresh thinking, and leadership if it's to thrive. Wanting a full life alongside your veterinary career doesn't make you uncommitted, it makes you more likely to stick around long enough to actually make a difference. But don't mistake having boundaries for not needing backbone and grit to do the work needed to become an expert. Both matter, and your career advancement and clinical expertise will grow quicker by throwing yourself in whole-heartedly to the deep end.

For all of us, the task remains the same: to talk, to listen, and to lead with something approaching humility.

Because here's what we keep coming back to: the pets and families we serve don't give a damn what generation we belong to. They just need us to show up together, committed, capable, and ready to help their pets and perhaps also leave veterinary medicine better than we found it.

The Veterinary Leadership Academy teaches the leadership skillset to build sustainable, resilient, remarkable practices where generations thrive together. We're not just thought leadership; we offer practical solutions for practice owners and leaders of any generation. If you're ready to join a community with answers, get in touch: oliver@vetxinternational.com.