Get Off My Lawn!: Experiencing Ageism
I’ll be the first to admit it, my diet is horrible. What do I live on? Sandwiches, Pop-Tarts, cup noodles and fast food. What’s worse is I live in a health-conscious, vegetarian state. Some of these vegetarians are friends of mine. Time and again, they look at my choice in meals and cringe.
Seriously, I had this for dinner.
A common commentary is, “Don’t you want to live to a ripe old age?”
My answer, “Why would I want to do something like that?!”
I have no interest in getting old - nada. At the time of this writing, I’m an outta-shape, 36-year-old, unmarried, college educated, and unemployed white male. I have no 401K, no IRA, no other numerically fancy-schmancy accounts, and I’m worried about qualifying for food stamps. Prospects for quality in my “golden years” aren’t exactly the best. Do I want thirty more years of this crap? Hell no.
Compound that with the fact that I’m already reaching the point where my age might be a factor. A couple of years ago, I was attending a job group. I hated every minute of it. Most of the attendees had at least three decades on me. Many had been project managers, office managers, PR reps, and whatever soft-service titles existed prior to the ‘08 economic crash. All of them were frustrated because they were constantly being passed-over by younger, cheaper, and more energetic laborers. To them, anyone in their thirties was the enemy. Opinions I possessed were immediately shot down.
Needless to say, I stopped going.
Two years later - as in, now - I found myself once again “touched” by the unemployment faery. Yet I was overjoyed that I had landed an interview with a hotel downtown. When I got down there, I was shocked. I was older than most of the staff by a good ten years. This had never happened before. The hiring manager himself was, maybe, 25. If that. The beard only made him look younger.
It didn’t help that the majority of the staff were also young, fit, and ridiculously good-looking. Downtown Portland, gotta love it. I tried to play up my experience in the field, but that might have been to my detriment. Playing the “old man” card was clearly the wrong approach. As evidenced by my denial of the job a week or so later.
Had I finally reached that point? Was that now a determining factor in my hire-ability? Well, yes and no.
If there’s one thing I try to be, it’s current. Thanks to a wonderful tool called the Internet, it doesn’t take long for anyone to gain a cursory understanding of pop-cultural trends. Music, movies, gossip, tech, and news are but a click away. The problem is figuring out how to apply said stimuli to a real world setting.
There’s no hiding the gray hair, but it is far easier to mask obsoleteness. Buzzwords from the 90s don’t apply in a millennial workplace. Keeping up-to-date on that is key. Words like “social media” or “new media” are very clearly on their way out. After all, social/new media has become the norm. Outdated language can be job-threatening. In this, I have been moderately successful. No, the issue is far deeper.
One thing that comes with age is a sense of privilege - an expectation of what you can do versus what you won’t do. I, for one, think I’m beyond fast food work. That may not necessarily be the case. After all, I’ve seen my regular wage drop from $11.50 an hour to $9.
Another factor is life choices. Instead of building a set of marketable skills, I sorta skated through my 20s and 30s. What do I have to show for it? A useless English degree, and years of customer service experience. And I don’t even like people.
Which brings me to the real issue.
I’m a damned curmudgeon. There’s no getting around it. The older I get, the more pissed off I become. Sure, there are smatterings of happiness strewn throughout my day. However, by the end of it, all I want to do is surf the net then fall asleep. It’s the modern equivalent to retiring to Matlock. I’ve retired from life in my mind.
Is this likely to change? Probably not. One of the best things I can do is stay active, find ways to keep my mind alert, and welcome the inevitable “oldening” with a smile and a middle finger. I just hope one day I can afford a lawn and a porch…
So I can tell young whippersnappers to get the f**k off it.
8 Comments to Get Off My Lawn!: Experiencing Ageism
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So apply for jobs that sell what you like to eat. How about a sandwich shop….it would be fun….a deli!
I’m nowhere near quick enough to work in a deli.
I am in too good a mood tonight, but we shall think of a “next step”…what do you think?
Take care
M
We’ll next step on a day when *I* am in a good mood.
Right, time for some ‘tough like’.
(That’s quite similar to tough love, but in a manly and platonic way).
Firstly, Geoff, life is not linear. It warps and weaves. So, whether you want “30 more years of this crap” or not , you won’t get it. You might well get 30 years or more, but you don’t know if it will be crap, or sensational. Or most likely, somewhere in between. And even if it is crap, it will be an entirely different kind of crap to what you imagine, That’s how it works.
So, bring it back to now. What are you doing tomorrow? Is it something positive. Let’s hope.
What if it isn’t? Well, that’s also a valid choice. Plenty of hard working, dutiful, well behaved individuals die in freak accidents, plenty of drunk losers fall 15 metres into an open volcano clad only in a fig leaf and survive without a scratch*.
You have a gift for writing in your own style. Great. That doesn’t mean you have to write a bestseller, only that you might. You don’t want to work call centres - great, you have a line in the sand. You’d like something teaish? Good on you!
The point is, I was 36 11 years ago. At the time, I was working for the government through an NGO, after 8 years of working for myself as a computer programmer, IT sales person and marketer. Also I ran a newsletter service. Since then, I had a 6 year career in the corporate sector, owned a tea shop, assisted my better half with a programme to help anxiety sufferers and now run the greatest tea company in the world**.
At 36, I had no idea that would be the next 11 years.
Don’t try to predict 30 years. Or 11. or 1.
The formula is this: Work out what you are going to do tomorrow, and have a vague idea what would be nice to achieve by the end of the week. Repeat ad infinitum.
* It happens more often than you think***
** I always like to think big
*** or perhaps doesn’t
I can’t disagree with you on any of those points. What I came away with is that you said - “Regardless of the outcome, I should still look forward to it.” I’ll admit most of this was exaggerated…and said during a day of great frustration. I will “attempt” to look forward to the years ahead.
With metaphoric helmet donned.
just love this…and the pics from olden days…those old men from the muppets??? Yay!
I keep forgetting their names.