Bias against older workers remains among the most acceptable and pervasive “isms.”
At age 56…Despite having a college degree in accounting and many years of experience, Aguilar can’t even get interviews anymore. She worked for nearly a decade at her last job for Arise Virtual Solutions, a call center firm. Her dream is to work with animals, but she says she will “try anything” at this point.
BLOGGER COMMENT: Being 52 and unemployed for two years ten years ago, having applied for over 70 jobs, I understand the frustration when no one hires you. Now at 66, I live in that constant fear as I push toward 70 in the workplace, that I will eventually be weaseled out of a job due to my age – regardless of the laws.
Usually, when you see the title above, you immediately think it’s going to say, “The dumbing of America.” I couldn’t think of anything more appropriate for this blog title to describe the most recent realization of growing older. What do I mean? Well, let me explain.
No doubt, you’ve seen portrayed on screen or in real life a younger person speaking loudly to an elderly person because immediately they assume they have gone nearly deaf due to their age. Okay, I will admit that I am almost deaf in one ear, but it’s been that way since childhood so you can’t pin it on my sixty-six years of life. Of course, most of the time, the older person can hear sufficiently without being yelled at repeatedly.
Well, I’m discovering that individuals appear to think that as we age we get dumber. I’m noticing the phenomena at my work environment that age is instantly being attributed to decreased cognizant ability regardless if it’s there or not. No, I’m not on the verge of dementia or Alzheimer’s. My memory is still sharp so don’t throw me into the bucket of declining thought process or memory function by making me an unworthy participant in new endeavors.
Perhaps it’s just that prevailing attitude of the youth wherein they think that they know more than their elders. Don’t get me started. Oh, perhaps in the context of technical abilities of rocket science, the educated youth may know more today than the person who graduated from college in 1970. Nevertheless, not all aging individuals are suddenly growing stupid so stop treating them like they are!
My frustration stems from this new feeling of being coined inadequate, lacking the ability to have problem-solving skills, or being creative with worthwhile ideas that I can actually contribute. It’s frustrating, to say the least. When approached by younger co-workers, I can feel the vibes of “why are you still here old lady?” flowing through their brains. Even their gazes are demeaning and their presence shunning. I’m growing to despise it.
And you know what youngster? Your elders just may know more than you so deal with it! Remember, it’s the youth who are being dumbing down in America – not your elders.
I’m done ranting.
I think most of us in the Baby Boomer generation must have had expectations regarding how our lives would turn out. The more I reflect on some of my discontentment in this stage of life, I realize it stems from the world in which I grew up. Born in 1950, being ten in 1960, and graduating from high school 1968, I had expectations that my life would mirror that of my parents. After all, home economics taught us to be wives, good housekeepers, cooks, and mothers-to-be. Like all young ladies, I would marry, have children, and live HEA, i.e. happily ever after. But wait a minute, it didn’t turn out that way!
Perhaps it was the era that I was raised in with a stay-at-home mother, working father, and middle-class family home. Our holidays were filled with visits to my aunts and uncles, who were also living the lives of lasting marriages and good children growing up from their unions.
I suppose in an odd sort of way that I expected the same thing. However, now as I write this at 66 years of age, having been single and divorced for nearly 18 years, I’m not growing old with a loving husband. Instead, I have a fluffy cat. Perhaps I imaged my life should have turned out like my parents or grandparents. Married for forty or fifty years until death parts me from my spouse or I should die first. The stark reality that I have no spouse to grow old with or mourn my passing leaves an aching unfulfillment in my soul. Nothing turned out like I expected – absolutely nothing.
Perhaps I need to file this under the “disappointment” post, which probably says about the same thing. As I sit here, it’s been on my mind of late. It’s a grieving of a silent sort that there isn’t always an HEA for everyone. Life doesn’t always follow the best-laid plans of how things should have been.
A well-written and heartfelt article that deserves to be shared. As I grow older and struggle with weight problems myself, I’m tired of the looks, the judgment, the innuendos, the stories about how their friends lost 70 pounds, the sharing of funny videos about overeating, etc. Do people think they are helping? They know nothing about me and the fact that I’ve had an irregular heartbeat since I was twenty-six years old and have been on heart medication when I weighed a whopping 132 pounds. I cannot wear those shoes for the company I work for and jog miles a day or do strenuous exercise. Even some days when I walk, I experience dizzyness. On good days, I put in as many steps as I can.
Yes, so back off judges. My weight is not your business either.
Back in 2007, even before I started writing books, I began a blog regarding single life. I had been single for over ten years (now pushing eighteen) and like many others, I felt frustrated and lonely.
Finding my way as a single person in a world sprinkled with couples has been a challenge. Writing, of course, is my purpose in life and a great outlet. I cannot vocally articulate accurately my feelings, but give me a piece of paper and I will spill my soul for the world to read.
I stopped posting on this blog after nine years and began Saucy & 65, which I will be spending more time on in the future. It gives me another avenue to complain about growing older.
Because my Just One Single blog is languishing alone, and I have put in print one other blog (Lessons From the Phantom of the Opera), I thought I would do the same for my solitary 40,899 words written about life sleeping alone.
This weekend, I finished formatting the eBook. After I revise and edit the mass of posts, I will fling it out into the world for $2.99 on all venues (Amazon, Nook, iBooks, Kobo, etc.).
Remember. Sometimes we just need a reminder to remember. Every year we put aside a day to remember Veterans and the service to our country. Other countries as well remember. Remember what?
- Remember those who served in the various branches of the military
- Remember those who volunteered
- Remember those drafted to serve
- Remember those who fought gallantly
- Remember those who died bravely
- Remember those who came home wounded in body and soul
- Remember those missing and never found
- And above all, remember that war is a terrible thing. It steals the best of men and women.
My father, rest his soul, fought in World War 2. He was a sergeant in the Army Corps of Engineers stationed in Papa New Guinea. His team of men built airfields in the jungles, and many of his comrades lost their lives having been killed by the Japanese. Thankfully, he came home.
I am fortunate to have in my possession some pictures of him during those service years where he was stationed. He was 30 years old, newly married, and my mother was pregnant with their first child. My father did not meet my brother until he returned from the war four years later. I was the baby boomer, birthed in 1950, when life had rolled into another type of war — a Cold War.
As I think about my father’s service and the men he served with, I think about the lives they all had. They left family, children, wives, sisters, and mothers. There have also been quite a few reminders of late of the Great War — World War I, when 17 million people died upon this earth fighting one another. I purchased one of the thousands upon thousands of poppies that were planted as a memorial at The Tower of London in 2014, which reminded Britain of the souls lost. My ancestors were not untouched by this war either, as two of my cousins only two generations removed died — one in Turkey and one in France, whose bodies remain where they fell overseas.
So this Veterans Day 2015 do one thing – remember. It’s my family members who served, died, and came home. Take a moment to think about what Veteran’s Day means and shed a silent tear for those who never had a chance to live out their lives.
The older you get, it appears that your disappointments loom larger in life. At least for me, that is the case. When you are young, let’s face it, you think you have your life all mapped out. Being a baby-boomer, I guess I figured I would end up like my parents — married for fifty years and enjoying retirement with a faithful spouse at my side. It’s not that my parents didn’t have their disappointments, because I know they did. Their one son refused to speak to them for twenty-five years and never showed up at their funeral either. So I guess in retrospect, everyone has disappointments of one kind or another.
What are my disappointments? I guess it all started when I was five years old and sexually abused. It wasn’t a choice that I made. It just happened. However, that occurrence seems to have doomed me to live a loveless life of one bad relationship to another. I never found true love or a lasting marriage. My first husband cheated on me and got another woman pregnant and left. My second husband was emotionally and verbally abusive along with giving me a good punch one time, which he said I deserved.
My lot in life seems to be perpetual solitude from the male race. I cannot say that I am lonely anymore, because I have learned to deal with it and accept the fact for some time now. It’s been sixteen years since I walked out on the abuse, and sixteen years of no sex, love, or compansionship. I’m the frog in the pot of boiling water. It was a slow death that I didn’t notice, but nonetheless it happened.
There are other disappointments of a personal nature that I cannot share here in public in order to protect the innocent. Nevertheless, they are disappointments that life didn’t quite shape up like I thought it would. Can it change in the years ahead? Oh, I suppose it could. Do I expect it to? Not really. No use getting my hopes up.
I suppose I’m not the only one in my aging years that deal with things gone haywire in the scheme of things. In retrospect, it’s better to be thankful for the things that did turn out rather than did not. It’s all a matter of focus, and that’s why we probably need glasses later in life.
Saucy & 65
An interesting article about aging far too long and wishing you could leave instead of stay. I will admit that I have the same fears of living longer than I care to do so in a wrinkled and useless state of existence.
My mother-in-law, who lives in an assisted living facility, would like to die and prays that God will take her
Source: A Fate Worse Than Death
Here is my first throwback for you. My wedding day. Well, technically it’s my second wedding day. My first, I ran off and married a Detroit policeman at the age of 21 in a civil group ceremony at the Detroit City Hall.
Seven years later, I made another mistake but this time in a wedding dress. Let me be honest. I have never done a good job of picking the right man.
Nevertheless, here I am in 1983 at the prime age of 33 years old. I was undoubtedly one good looking chick! So much for #tbt
It’s Saucy & 65 now.