My wife and I have been friends with Liz and her husband for over 35 years. Every so often, Liz and I get together just to catch up. A few weeks ago, we met to have dinner at Alice & Friends Vegan Kitchen, a local restaurant.
Liz has been a hard-working professional for over 40 years. During our conversation, she shared that she was going to retire next year. Congratulations!
She was honest about how, for the last several years, she’s always been the oldest person in the room at work – whether behind her desk or in a small meeting or in larger gatherings. She confided in me about the layer of condescension she’d been feeling for years, explaining that she works with smart, energetic, mostly good-hearted people, most of whom are 30 or 40 years younger than she is. They’re not in entry-level jobs, they just don’t have as much experience or “lived knowledge” yet.
Using fingers on both hands to make the “air-quote” sign, Liz explained how her co-workers seemed “suspicious” of her because of her age.
I understand what Liz was telling me. I don’t know what her age has to do with trust or learning. Again, what does the number of times the Earth has circled the sun since somebody was born have to do with anything?
Our meal continued – deep sharing along with tasty food and drink. Yes, the food was good, but I kept thinking about that bitter taste of ageism in the workplace in my friend Liz’s life. Many people taste it; perhaps you have: jokes about someone being “ancient,” “boomer,” or “grandma,” assuming older workers are less reliable, resistant to change, less productive or can’t learn new tech systems, and more. Even without ageist stigmas and prejudices, it’s hard enough to transition from one’s years of work toward another stage of life.
And then I noticed the message painted on the wall across the room, under the restaurant logo: “a 100% plant-based restaurant that celebrates the flavors and beauty of vegan cuisine.”
That slogan could be a lovely phrase about living – celebrate the flavors and beauty of aging!
Most of us are acculturated through life to believe that old is bad, young is good. But bitter is not the only flavor of aging. Of course, if that’s what you believe that’s probably the only thing you’re going to taste. Just like the varied flavors of a good meal, aging has the bitter and the sweet, and even the bittersweet.
Over dessert, our conversation shifted to the opportunities Liz was about to experience. And her mood and energy became a bit happier – maybe because of the dessert, but I think it was because of the conversation.
Liz’s palate has lots to look forward to. Perhaps more time for her passion projects, or more time with grandchildren or friends, or discovering opportunities that she doesn’t even know about yet. Who knows?
Aging means still being alive – a wonderful thing.
Different flavors … and beautiful.