Gen Z is throwing PowerPoint Parties. It needs to stop.

The pandemic made hanging out weird in a lot of ways. Group activities became highly coordinated — if they happened at all. There was a ream of questions to answer before even the most casual interactions: Who's going to be there? Who else have they seen lately? Are they vaccinated? Have they tested recently? Even once you got to wherever you were going, there were rules and expectations. You were supposed to awkwardly stand or sit 6 feet away from each other and try to figure out what everyone was saying from behind a mask, with all the muffled noises and half-blocked facial expressions that came with them. A lot of social interactions moved online, which came with its own sense of formality — group Peloton rides, Zoom trivia, whatever the Houseparty app was, or Clubhouse. Chill time, for good reason, required work to achieve.

Over the past few years, life has become much more normal for many people. They're back in the office, going to restaurants and live events, gathering with friends and family in person. Some of the structured nature of their social interactions, however, have not reverted to their previous form. The stilted nature of some pandemic-era habits — many that come with a dash of work — stuck around as a permanent feature. Case in point: the PowerPoint party, where people get together to show each other presentations on various topics in the name of having fun.

PowerPoint parties supposedly started in 2012 as "drink, talk, and learn" gatherings in Canada. Over time, they spread. Kids at Harvard were doing them in 2018 because, come on, it's Harvard kids. Of course, they were. When COVID-19 hit, they really took off, especially among the youngs. It made some sense during the period when we were trapped inside. It's easy enough to share your screen on Zoom or Google Meet, and it was better to have some sort of activity to do instead of just staring at people's faces (and your own) for the eighth day in a row.

But even as we've gotten back to normal hangouts, people are still connecting their laptops to TVs and sharing slides in social settings. Take a spin around TikTok, and you can find loads of PowerPoint-party content. There are presentations on which Beyoncé songs best represent each friend, what to do if you're trapped in an elevator, or whether pigeons are a pest or a pet. In March, Cosmopolitan put out a list of 55 PowerPoint ideas to "spice up your next at-home hang," which included ideas such as making a pitch for each of your friends' celebrity look-alike or "ranking cartoon characters by hotness."

I guess I can see how this might be enjoyable, and some of the presentations do seem genuinely clever and funny, but I don't know, man. I love my friends, and also I absolutely do not want to do this with any of them.

Sure, a PowerPoint night is not that far off from, say, a game or movie night. It's a chance to be creative and turn something you do at work into something silly and social. But also, must we turn something we do at work into something we do in our personal lives? Just hanging out without a plan is fine and pleasant. Spontaneity is exciting! Another way to be creative is to put yourself in a situation where you have to be creative by thinking on your feet about conversation topics and activities at random.

The rise of the PowerPoint party also speaks to the workification of our day-to-day lives. The border between work and time off has been blurring for years. The ability to always respond to emails or messages on your phone has made "personal" time more porous. And especially among young, ambitious people, there's a sense that you constantly have to be busy, that everything has to be optimized, that there's always space for programming or growth. People post their workouts on Strava to show off their activity and compare it with their friends' and obsess over their VO2 max to track their fitness. They maintain tightly managed to-do lists and approach even a casual encounter like a networking opportunity. It's a constant rat race that feels exhausting. Even if it's supposed to be goofy, making a presentation for a party entails a level of productivity that we already have to bring to so many other spaces at work or school.

We should be able to embrace unstructured time. Indeed, culturally, that's a norm that's declining, especially for kids. As Vox's Anna North laid out last year, the amount of children's unstructured playtime in the US dropped by 25% from 1981 to 1997. For various reasons, kids don't have as much experience just getting along doing stuff on their own anymore, which can influence their sense of autonomy and deprive them of opportunities to develop important social skills and tools to combat anxiety and depression. It may also mean that as adults, they struggle to go with the flow. Perhaps it's no surprise that young adults who had their childhood activities scheduled down to the minute are embracing the PowerPoint party. But unstructured time is good for people of all ages. It can help with stress and anxiety, add space for rest, relaxation, and creativity, and give people a mental break.

Instead of embracing a bit more randomness, people are constantly squeezing friends and family into their calendars. It's not uncommon for someone to send out a Google form to pick out a new book-club book and date, just like they might at work. Responding to a group text message using classic office speak like "touch base" or "circle back" has become the norm in some circles. And, yes, this isn't to say there hadn't been theme parties that required a little planning or game nights with structure, but using products made by tech giants like Microsoft and Google to enjoy a night in with friends feels a lot sadder than relearning the rules of Monopoly. Bonding is important for forming relationships, and collective effervescence is a real thing, but it's hard not to wonder whether there are ways to achieve those things without emulating what we do 9 to 5 or requiring homework before the "fun" begins.

If you absolutely insist on having a PowerPoint party, God bless. Good for you. I don't want to yuck your yum. But also, maybe think about why you feel the need to do it, and, really, don't invite me.

Emily Stewart is a senior correspondent at Business Insider, writing about business and the economy.