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Seeking Work at 55

20/4/2017

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My idiosyncratic search for employment is nearing the end of its fourth month. Old football fans will remember the classic record football score between Arbroath and Bon Accord in 1885. I can update it for younger folk. Jobs applied for: 36.  First interviews: 0

This is okay, apart from its effect on my self-esteem, confidence, general bonhomie, and bank balance. On the whole, I’m fine with it. It is what it is, and entirely expected. I really am on course. Go figure.   
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One thing I can’t help noticing though, is that recruiters are bonkers ageist. Which I thought was, you know, like against the law or something.

Not overtly obviously. They don’t say things like, No Blacks, No Dogs, No Irish, No over 50s, but frankly, they might as well. In fact, Bobby has more chance of getting an interview than me for some of the jobs as advertised.

It isn’t exactly subtle.

“would suit someone new to middle management”

“perfect for someone on the way up”

“the pace isn’t for everyone”

“vibrant”, “energetic”, “fresh”, “dynamic” are all codewords for “not you grandad.”

I’m getting so that I see slights everywhere. “It’s a lean and agile environment” I take to mean “no fatties,” and, let’s face it, I’m probably right.

“Looking for someone already working in L&D rather than as a self-employed consultant” means “all you folk who were made redundant or took early retirement and started your own company because you felt like you still had something to give – no, you don’t, you really don’t, not really – losers.”

Or at least that’s how it reads. And I get it. I wouldn’t employ me on the face of it either, even though I’m fairly confident that even if I was only giving middle-gear, half-arsed effort, my analogue decrepitude would still rack up a record football score against 99% of whatever young, bright, fresh and bushy-tailed arse-wipes you want to line me up against.      

When you leave the corporate club, step out of the moving stream - for whatever reason, be it raising children or trying to be a professional gambler – you run the risk of being stranded upstream without a paddle. At least that’s how it feels...


 

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