Skip to main content

Money Talks

            Well, still jobless. Big surprise. I’m 53 years old and apparently my skill set looks a lot better on a 25 year old.
            Nothing new there. A lot of things look better on a 25 year old.
            The thing is that I feel like a 53 year old offers more stability than a young ‘un. It’s not like I’m going to throw my hands up in the air any time soon and declare, “I’m outta here!”
            I’m more likely to ask, “Do you have a retirement plan or a 401K?” or “Is there any way I could work here until I’m 82? Because that’s about when I could afford to leave. “
            I am not bashing young people. In fact, I wish I were one. They have options and they can walk away from a crappy offer. I really can’t afford to do that at this point.
            Let this be a lesson to you. If you’re over 45 think twice about leaving whatever job it is that pays your bills. I’m not saying give up on your dreams or settle for some boring same-old life. I’m just saying if you want to develop your creative side after age 50, do it in a nice yoga class. Not in the job market. And God knows you really only begin to explore anything seriously after you’re 50.
I’ve been on the hiring side of things and more than once I wondered whether hiring the younger person at a lesser wage or the older one with more experience at higher price tag made sense. With the younger ones, you can always impart your knowledge. Older folks already know what works for them and they don’t really want to listen to a new idea, unless they are desperate like me.
            Oh, I know there will be exceptions. I know more than one person who wrote their first novel after age 60. You wanna know how that happened? My guess is that they came to the realization that there’s no better time than now to spread their creative wings…and they probably had a day job or a retirement plan. They probably weren’t facing homelessness or their electricity being shut off. Word to the wise, if you want the freedom to make decisions like this when you’re 60, put $25 dollars away every week beginning at age 18. You will not regret it. My mother told me this, but like with everything else she said I didn’t believe her. 
            I’ve never been the financially astute one in my family. If you read this blog at all you already know I prefer the fancy mustard and other finer things I really can’t afford. Unfortunately I’ve been the fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants one. Can I just say that now that I’m 53 and the only one of my siblings looking for a job, that way of life didn’t really work out so great now that I have arthritis and a bit of a hearing loss.
            All things must pass. I know I’ll get through the rest of my life in my own way, probably without a lot of planning or structure. Such is the way I’ve always been.

            At this point I guess I am looking back and thinking that I could have made some smarter decisions about money, even though I really never had much to work with. I guess I should’ve done what my mother told me to do decades ago. Boy does she look so much smarter now that I’m older.

Comments

Deb said…
Hang in there, pal. You are SO talented, and surely something will come along. In the meantime, console yourself with the knowledge that you will NEVER be homeless. Reliza's room is ready and waiting for you...but don't count on having any fancy schmancy mustards. I'm with Doris on that one. #miss you #staystrong

Popular posts from this blog

He sells sea shells, I wish

   So now rather than being obsessed with fake fingernails I can’t afford, I’m becoming obsessed with checking this blog. I’m pretty sure all 52 views were made by either me or my husband.   That leads me right into the current situation at hand. We need friends. We’re desperate for them. I’ve started handing out my telephone number to people I meet while doing my meager freelance work. They think it’s for the story I’m writing but really it’s in hope that someday they’ll find a reason to call and then I can hit them with, “By the way, do you play cards? Bingo? Gin Rummy?” If I wasn’t so arthritic I’d throw Twister in there.    It’s not so much for me, it’s my husband who likes to have people around. I have become hermit-like since moving here while he has become convinced we could die here and not be found for months. He had friends back in Syracuse but he chose to stay home at night with his loving wife. Now all of a sudden I get the impression he’d hightail it out of here a

Splitting Hairs

    I’m pretty sure I’ve mentioned my hair a few times. I think we need to delve into it a bit further. You see, when it takes a $200 trip off-Island to get a haircut, or new underpants for that matter, you take a haircut seriously. Besides, when you’ve got the broad shoulders and the wide hips, you rely on your hair as a sort of aphrodisiac, if you know what I mean.                 I’ve been thinking about a haircut for about 8 months now. Did I mention life chugs along pretty slowly around these parts, giving me plenty of time for watching paint dry or the grass grow? Anyhow, I came to the decision that I should go ahead and do it even though more than one woman here told me she left her last appointment at the hair salon in tears. Hey, it takes more than a crappy haircut for me to turn on the waterworks. And naturally I consider tears over a haircut pretty much wasted. There are so many other crappy things to cry over, so I try to save my tears for things that have a heartbea

Life of the Party

   So I picked out my funeral music years ago. It features Steppenwolf in the forefront. I'm pretty sure I can think of some Syracuse priests who would bend a couple of rules and blast some Magic Carpet Ride for me. Believe me, they've done worse. That's why I love them. Anywho, I do spend more than a little time thinking about how I'd like my "after party" to play out. I'm nothing if not morbid. These things are important to me.    First of all, I want a kegger. Absofuckinglutely. And I want there to be all manner of food just like I like it. Huge portions, bottomless red plastic cups. You get the picture. The music is key and must include Steppenwolf, a fantastic Motown medley, Mony Mony, maybe a Monkees song, a little Led Zeppelin and definitely some Levon Helm. And if there's time left and people are feeling sappy, a couple of Van Morrison songs. I'm thinking as I write this that I want to go to this party. Jeez.    And you know I'll be t