I was scrolling Reddit the other day and found something interesting in the /r/GenX subreddit about male breakfast clubs. That got me thinking about the movie The Breakfast Club (1985). I know it’s a tad different, but nonetheless, what a perfect slice of GenX.

The Breakfast Club, for those of you who might not know, was a GenX-defining movie about a ragtag group of high school students, who, for disparate reasons, had Saturday detention.

Iconic for its depiction of the various personalities that defined a generation, not unlike Dazed and Confused (1993) did almost a decade later, The Breakfast Club stood as a middle finger in the face of authority and its “I don’t give two shits about what you think, even if I get into trouble” attitude. I feel that swagger is sorely missing from our discourse, but that’s a whole other post. The point is how the characters bonded over the shared space and experience.

The post that got my attention was “What are the unwritten rules for an old guy fast food restaurant coffee group?” Interesting question and perfectly aligned with what we discuss here. I was curious, what would be the rules of such a thing?

A Bit of Snark Mixed with Love

This particular thread is the reason I have a warm place in my heart for my generation and Reddit, in general. The thread (check it out for yourself) was filled with snarky comments, solid advice, and some downright awesome observations.

What’s heartening is the genuine interest in such things and how beneficial they seem to be. As someone who would routinely get breakfast with my buddies after we worked out, I can see the attraction. When everyone moved away, the thing I missed the most was drinking coffee and eating my overpriced avocado toast as we caught up on life.

18 Unwritten Rules for a Geezer Breakfast Club

I hate to admit that GenX is getting to Geezer age, but if there is one thing that my generation is known for, it’s telling it like it is. Call it a blessing and a curse.

Here are a few of the “unwritten rules” the thread came up with. It’s basically Fight Club—just with biscuits and coffee instead of soap and blood. It also seems that the first rule is still probably “don’t talk about it,” but what the hell.

1. Show up. A lot: Attendance is the whole membership card. “Daily commitment” is the point.
2. Start adjacent, then merge: Sit near the table first. Say hi. Listen. Chime in sparingly. Eventually, someone waves you in since misery loves company.
3. New guy protocol: Say hello, then shut up (briefly): Warm-up time is real. Don’t dominate the table on Day 1 like you’re filibustering a city council meeting. Listen. Nod. Offer to get the refills. Imagine it’s your first day at a new school and you want to get picked for the kickball game.
4. Buy your own coffee: This is not an all-inclusive resort. If you arrive late, you offer to grab refills. Usually, everyone drinks drip coffee since it’s cheaper than those fancy espresso drinks.
5. Tip like a decent human: You can complain about everything else, but tip well for whoever’s cleaning up your “hours-long coffee squat.”
6. No politics, unless your group’s the “argue for sport” type: A bunch of folks swear by “no politics if you want to remain friends.” Another camp says that it’s fine, but disagrees like adults—no yelling, no dehumanizing. Feel this one out, but it’s always good to err on the side of no politics.
7. No money, sex, religion (mostly): The old-school etiquette version: Keep it polite. Church is fine, preaching is not. Stocks are fine, your income is not. This should be a group of equals.
8. Weather is mandatory content: Too hot. Too cold. Too windy. Plus a full traffic report on the way in, every time, forever. Complaining about your “shared struggle” is the whole point.
9. You must provide an ailment update: Back hurt? Knees? Shoulder? Sleep? Does someone need a new prescription? If nobody mentions digestion, the meeting is null and void. The struggle is real and must always be mentioned.
10. Complaining is a hobby, not a personality: The club runs on mild grumbling—roads, prices, “kids these days,” service, the line, the world—but it’s supposed to be funny, not toxic. Remember, these complaints are what create the bonds, and they must demonstrate the shared struggle all of you face.
11. Ribbing is affectionate. Develop a thick skin: You will be teased. Repeatedly. Possibly until death. The correct response is laughter, not a TED Talk. Take all in stride. If you have a hard time with this, you will not last long.
12. Everyone is an expert. On everything: They know the solution to every world problem. Your job is to nod, counter-punch lightly, and keep it moving even if you have a Ph.D. in physics and know for a fact that the military could never build something that fast.
13. One guy must hate the restaurant: He still shows up. He brings a sack breakfast from somewhere else and complains about both places.
14. There’s always a hat situation: Military hats, weird niche hats, sports hats—some kind of “credential headwear.” Specifically for Gen-X, old concert T-shirts from “when the music was good.”
15. The table is “reserved” even if it isn’t: In spirit, that booth or table is basically sovereign territory. Respect the vibe, don’t sprawl, don’t block staff from doing their job. See No. 5: Tip like a human.
16. Membership opens up when someone moves, dies, or moves to Florida: Dark humor is part of the ecosystem. So is the quiet truth: the group matters most when people start disappearing. If you’re in Florida, then most of the time, people leave by dying.
17. Be kind to the staff and the staff will be kind to you: Regulars get regular treatment—refills, extra patience, and sometimes “off-menu diplomacy,” which is the best way to shut down an argument.
18. The goal is fellowship, not content: It’s not about “having plans.” It’s about being somewhere you’re known—especially for widowers, retirees, and guys who need a place to land. It seems odd, but being seen, heard, and missed matters a lot.

I’m sure I missed a bunch of them. I mean, the thread at last count was 254 comments deep, but you get the idea.

Your Mission, Should You Decide to Accept It

One of the things I want to do with this blog is give people practical and tactical things they can do to make friends. I know that it can seem a bit silly, but sometimes a little push is all you need to make stuff happen.

So, your mission, should you decide to accept it, is to either find or create your own Geezer Breakfast Club at whatever place you feel most comfortable. If you’re a younger man and can’t spend hours upon hours debating the finer points of World War II tank strategy, then if you see one of these clubs on your way to work, stop by and say hello.