Milestone

The interview had gone very well, I thought. I’d gone in ambivalent about leaving self-employment so soon, especially given all the assignments on my plate, and about returning to the kind of schedule that would force me to return my creative work to the back burner. But the more we talked, the more suitable the job sounded. Plus, the would-be boss and I hit it off nicely.

Still, there was the matter of my age.

It was an unspoken but unavoidable part of the conversation: She has three children, six and under. She had just returned from maternity leave. Her youngest—who she is still nursing—is six months old. When we finished the interview, she would have to pump.

Pumping. I remember like it was yesterday. I smiled to myself, old enough to be her mother. I had an eye into her world. But she had none into mine: two children, one in college, the other finishing high school; a career more than 30 years in the making, begun when she was in kindergarten, or earlier. When we finished the interview, I would make an appointment with my orthopedist who says it’s time for a new left hip.

I knew we could get along. I knew I could do the job. And I knew that my track record impressed her. It impressed the human resources director too, who looked not much older than my daughter.

There could be a dozen reasons why I never heard back. Perhaps they knew I would cost too much, or feared I wouldn't fit in. I’m sure it’s neither intentional nor conscious, the discrimination.

That’s the scary part.