A Moment of Epiphany

You've probably heard all the expressions by now...all the convenient definitions, 'Generation X', the 'Slacker Generation', 'Mall Rats', all of the ways in which sociologists, population experts, politicians, statisticians, etc try to pigeonhole and define what our generation is.

Until very recently, it never occurred to me to mind. Then, approximately 2 weeks ago I found myself sitting in a nicely appointed office in a surburban office park in Central Florida being interviewed for a position, in fact the very same type of position I had actually performed in a different capacity for another employer just a few years ago. All was going well with the first interview until the owner asked that I might 'spend a little time' with the employee whom I was interviewing to replace. (a bit of back story, employee was leaving voluntarily to move out of state) "Of course ," I said, "it would be a great opportunity to get a feel for the day to day operations of the position." She (the owner) went on giddily about how sorry they were to be losing this employee, (let's call her Leslie) they were so incredibly fond of her and she'd worked for them for 5 whole...months (have to say that I was inwardly stunned thinking surely she meant 5 years). Before I even met her, I have to admit thinking "I am going to interview with a person who is barely past the 90 day probation period!"

Leslie comes in dressed in hipster chic with modishly cropped coppery hair, highlighted with bright red and pink streaks and a huge celtic cross tatooed on her wrist, and like every other self-respecting Gen Y Millenial, her head bent down over her I-Phone-Droid-Blackberry device until she is inches from me whereupon she gives one final swipe to her gadget and sits down in the chair next to me. Her eyes appraise me in my conservative black trousers and blouse with discreet jewelry, my bobbed blonde hair, my filofax planner and finally my stocking clad feet in dark pumps. The contrast between us from that first moment could not be more pronounced.

 Her first question is the standard, "So tell me a little about yourself" and as I begin telling her about beginning in insurance in 1993, about the problems after Hurricane Andrew in 1992 and the residuals markets, the life insurance bailouts in the mid 90's, all the way up to 1999 when my employer at the time, a small health plan was seized by the Dept of Insurance and I went to work briefly for the state sorting out months of back claims, her eyes glaze over and I realise we have no common ground because while I was out working in the 'real world' ACTUALLY working in insurance, she was probably in middle school. We have nothing to talk about, no commonality of experience, in short we have a 'generation gap' that cannot be bridged. She knows nothing about rushing to get quotes from a fax machine that is beeping from lack of paper, or doing data entry on computers that have a green type on a black screen, the wonder of getting to work in office that had just upgraded to Windows 95, or having your company announce to you in a printed memo (not an email, mind you) that it has just taken steps to establish a non-smokers break room, and from now on Fridays will have a new title called "Casual Friday" where you can wear casual shirts and jeans if you like and on that day you are not required to wear stockings and heels!

My suspicions are confirmed when she asks me, "Just how old are you anyway?" Now, I know what you are thinking, she can't ask that, by law, she can't. But what would you do? If you do answer, you might be passed over (which I was, by the way) due to not being young enough and if you refuse, they are going to wonder what you have to hide. When I tell her she giggles and says, "Oh wow, I am 24!"

This was my moment of epiphany. For the first time in my life, I realised that I was no longer the younger generation. I mean, yes, there was evidence of this happening, the establishment of local radio station that specializes in 'oldies' from the 70's and 80's, reading an article the other day where Debbie Gibson was listed as age 40 and on a 'nostalgia tour' with Tiffany. (by the way if you are reading this and those names are unfamiliar, you probably have no business reading this in the first place)

But for the first time I could tell that for this office, my time had come and gone, that somehow I, and the information, the education, the experience I possessed were somehow no longer relevant.   That is why I have started this blog. I want a voice for this overlooked, undervalued, and marginalised generation. A voice that refuses to be silenced....