When I was younger I twice landed jobs by sitting in the lobby of the office where I applied until I was able to speak with a hiring manager. Once I even came in for three days straight. This was before mobile phones, so just imagine reading every word of that day’s newspaper. Twice.
Times have changed. Until you are older you cannot possibly imagine the futility of a potential employer forcing blind shots into the void and then waiting for a response. Time is shorter, and yes, it matters. I have gone as far as to find the address of the home office and carry in a printed resume (I clean up real nice) to make personal contact and was treated as an annoyance.
I’m not here to lead a crusade for my demographic (over 50, IT, out of the business for over two years), nor am I complaining. I cannot change any of this, it’s how the machine works.
I responded to a friend this morning regarding how my dormant LinkedIn profile reads better than any poetry I write. Frankly I’m a shit poet, but that’s another topic altogether.
You’re a tiny bit younger, but you might get it. This Twitter thing is fun when there are words, but the LinkedIn reference is starkly true. I was in IT for 17 years. When the company I worked for was bought, they closed my data center. By the time that happened, at 50 I was out of the market for jobs because age and the speed of change in tech wiped me out like a tidal wave. I can’t get back in, so I took a 70% pay cut to work harder, longer, dirtier in the cycling industry. It’s all I knew aside from how to fix computers.
I came up through the ranks of tech support back before ADSL; dialup days. I managed to get through without a degree or certification of any sort. I worked for a few different tech firms, and that last job was perfect. I worked alone on graves in a massive data center after they had let go the other three operators during the recession.
And now I come home greasy every night, poorer, tired (not in the best way), in a place where I have great difficulty being in public, and now aim to parlay all of my earthly assets to my children in real time with specific direction so they don’t end up like me.
My history…I miss that part of my life even though it has been a colossal struggle, and this why much of my writing is dark because I see no hope. Hope bears no value in the past, and only speculation determines future happiness.
So this writing is about my only light, ironically, in its dark context.
All that from an auto-responder, a one-off echo from the void.