Millenials take the blame for a lot. The downfall of modern democracy, workplace attrition, the need for Tinder.

But worst of all: "Many Millenials don't even own a can opener!"

I've heard this exclamation a few times over the last year, and it baffles me every single time.

As the resentful owner of a rusty, ineffective, 20-year-old tin opener (or "can" opener, for you Americans), I applaud those aspirational young people who quite rightly question the need to own a dated and unnecessary piece of kitchen equipment.

For me, its occasional forced retrieval from the cutlery drawer comes with an overwhelming sense of doom. As I bear down on its non-ergomonic handles, willing the tiny circular saws to find a grip and slice the metal in a way that prevents me from having to lose a finger in levering the remaining lid from the rim, I remind myself that I need neither corned beef nor tinned fish in my life and vow to never, ever buy the product again.

Ring pulls aren't a whole lot better, bringing a world of anxiety as to whether you can angle your pull in a way that the lid peels back without injury, or whether the applied leverage will snap the flimsy ring forcing you to retrieve that bloody tin opener from the drawer again...unless of course, you're a Millennial, in which case you will be left with no choice but to suck its contents directly from the tin's razor-sharp lips, forever destroying your selfie pout.

It's a world of risk and potential waste and, let's face it, a ridiculous form of packaging for this day and age.

Most of the rest of the world food industry, thank God, seems to have moved forward with their packaging innovations.

Sauces and spreads are shunning hard to open, breakable glass jars in favor of squeezy, lidded tubes; dried foods come in easy to tear and resealable bags, even baked beans -- hardly a bastion of modern eating -- now come in resealable pots. But shelf-stable fish? The vast majority is still packaged in exactly the same way it was 200 years ago -- in a tin can.

Speaking at Tuna 2018 in June, Bolton Food's Sustainable Development Director Luciano Pirovano said that the perception of tuna products as an “old-fashioned category” is one of the key threats to the industry. And if statistics are anything to go by, he's right: while most seafood categories see per-capita consumption rising, canned tuna has slipped 42 percent in the past three decades.

For a healthy, affordable protein this is actually quite a feat of self-destruction. We all know the seafood industry struggles with packaging innovation, but to watch your product sales slide into the abyss over three decades and not tackle the root of its failure is a mysterious tactic.

Starkist exec Andy Mecs recently told the Wall Street Journal that the nosedive was pushing the tuna giant to put more focus on pouched products, which, by contrast, are growing 20 percent per year.

But pouches, pots and other innovations in the sector are still few and far between and represent a light sprinkling of creativity in an otherwise stale category.

The canned seafood sector, of which tuna is by far the largest, needs to get its imagination in gear and rethink its offering.

As entitled, narcissistic and materialistic as they are, the last thing Millennials need adding to their plate is the failings of the international seafood industry.

Send your comments to rachel.mutter@intrafish.com.

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Why Millennials don't own a can opener