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

I might need a price check

So my husband Chris works three days a week in America, and I’m trying not to take this personally.
He’s commuting Monday mornings on the 6:30 ferry over to Cape Cod, where he works at an upholstery shop in Hyannis, the Mattydale of Cape Cod, for all you Syracuse readers. I stay here and hold down the fort, cooking up a cocktail of frozen pizzas and mac n’ cheese weeknights for my poor Danny. Chris comes back late Thursday night, all giddy over toilet paper prices and quotes on cheaper rent.
No, no, no, and more no I say. I can’t possibly leave all this off-season quiet and high-priced laundry detergent. There’s no convincing me to leave no matter how many times Chris points out that there’s a Trader Joe’s “over there.”
I want to stay here until I miraculously win on one of those $5 scratchers and can buy my own house here. The difference being that I feel confident that I will someday scratch my way to freedom while Chris thinks we’d be smarter to look into a nice rental “over there.…

Library lady

So today a co-worker who is — let’s just be honest here — 70 years old, gave me a serious run for my money at the library. Some guy was looking for a specific movie, which just happened to be located on the very bottom shelf, and I did one of those pretend searches for it on the middle shelf. She walks over and squats down like she’s going to give birth in some Third World country and finds it in two seconds. Again, here we are. Now I’m at home tearing open the cardboard box of a frozen pizza and she’s obviously at home on a rubber mat touching her big toe to her nose.      I regularly call the doctor to renew my prescription for muscle relaxers, while it seems like the rest of the women on this ridiculously fit island drink hot tea and take a warm bath for their yoga-stressed muscles. Thank God my teeth are relatively good.
     It’s not easy to work with women your age and older who think nothing of drinking spinach shakes and lugging all kinds of crap around. If I tried half the…

Getting well takes baby steps

So I’ve had what you could call a case of the pneumonia. It was not pleasant. And to top it off it happened in San Antonio, Texas. Like I wasn’t sweating before the fever.
I was there to see my niece Michelle, who by the way kept asking me, “Are you going to write about this?” which is funny because she’s a writer too. I naturally said, “Oh no, of course not.” And here we are.
Thinking back, the best part of that trip teeters between meeting my two great-nephews, Oliver and Isaac, and having a couple of beers with their Yaya, my sister, who I haven’t had beers with in decades. Like I said, it’s a toss-up. There’s also the fact that I got to spend time with my niece’s husband Alex. He’s a hardcore military guy. He teaches other military guys how to be military policemen. I’m not going to gamble on writing anything about him. He’s from Wisconsin though, which I like. And he likes to cook, which I also like.
I thought to myself before I ever left my nice cocoon of Martha’s Vineyard to tra…