The Ruminator

Come on up and grab yourself a beer.

Wednesday, February 12, 2003

Old enough to be your daughter

I’ve been thinking about my age a bit lately. Not so much because of my birthday the other day, but more because of an incident the other day when a radio journalist said, no offence, but would it be OK if she interviewed my boss instead. This irritated my current supervisor far more than it personally offended me. I’ve pretty much gotten used to it by now. I was amused by the fact that it was a phone interview – if she was actually in a position to see that I am 5ft tall, freckled and in my mid-twenties, she would really have been disturbed. Anyway, having been in this job for four years now, I tend to forget the fact that I am relatively young, but once in a while something happens which reminds me.

When I first started in this job I was the youngest person in my office by 15 years. Admittedly it is a small office, so that’s probably not statistically significant. I should also note that the fact that I am relatively young has nothing to do with any prodigious talent on my part, and more to do with the fact that, unlike many of my friends, I only did one degree, and didn’t take a year or two off to travel. I am often in meetings or workshops where the average age of participants is roughly 15-20 years older than me, and where many people are quite a bit older than that. I am used to a look of faint amusement on people’s faces as they contemplate my age relative to that of their children.

Most of the time this is not a problem, as once people stop thinking about it and let me get on with the job, they also seem to be able to forget how old I am. Or am not, as the case may be. Some people still have some credibility issues though. Yes, I am quite short. Yes, I have freckles, and dimples. Yes, I am younger than your children. No, I don’t give a shit. Deal with it.

Anyway, I have definitive proof that, whatever some people think, I am getting old. Not because of my birthday, not because of the occasional grey hair, not because my boss told this journalist that conducting interviews was my job and they could deal with it or piss off. No, I am provably old because of the effort it took to get out of bed this morning and go to work, having been convinced last night that staying up late and getting drunk with my currently unemployed housemate was a good idea. I REALLY feel old this morning.


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