A Change in Perception
Thu., October 17, 12:16 PM
Several years ago, when I still thought I might find another “real” job, I accepted some temporary assignments from a place called “The Consultation Center.” I was glad to do it because the assignments – transcribing interviews from tapes – were to be done at home on my own computer, leaving me available to take phone calls relating to my job search.
One drawback to this job was the need to deal with tapes that were improperly recorded. The interviewers were masters and doctors of psychology, but some of them were not smart enough to check volume or speed or whether the machine was indeed recording at all. I pointed out that if I had to sit through an hour of running a tape – just in case the interview was recorded at the middle or the end – I would have to charge for an hour of time without producing a document. On the other hand, of course, I’m speedy enough at that kind of work that they still got their money’s worth. Another drawback was that I had to deliver the finished product in New Haven, where parking is difficult at the best of times and even less available after a snowstorm.
Despite its being a “nothing” job, I did learn something from it. All the people interviewed were coping with some kind of a personal challenge. For some of them, it was the death of a parent. For others, it was living with an Alzheimer’s patient. Sometimes it was kids and parents. But all of the interviews finished with the same set of questions, including “did this experience change you,” “did it change your perception of yourself,” “did it change your perception of others,” and so forth. I began applying the questions to my own challenge which, while not life-threatening, was certainly causing me to reflect on my own direction.
As it happened, my answers were negative to most of the questions, but one pair of questions stood out: “Did your experience change your perception of other people?” and “Did your experience change the way other people perceive you?” I thought I had learned a lot about people over the past few years – I certainly had learned not to trust them as much – but my continued job search revealed changes I wasn’t aware of.
Perhaps that was when I first realized that many people in hiring positions equated “lots of experience” with “old.” What had been an asset was suddenly a liability. It’s hard enough to recognize that I shouldn’t believe someone, but it’s downright painful to become conscious that they don’t believe me. I don’t lie, and I don’t make promises I can’t be sure of keeping. (Ask my kids: I was known for saying “we’ll see” if I couldn’t make the promise.) If I say I can do that job, I can. If I say I will stay for the duration of the assignment – even though I may be offered something better – I will stay. Forty years of experience – even when it’s edited – includes a lot specialized knowledge. Because of the nature of the jobs I’ve held, I’m a generalist in a world of specialists. And to my great disappointment, it doesn’t sell any more.
Well, another thing about me is that I’m flexible. I can learn to deal with the situation. No permanent job? Fine – I’ll accept temporary assignments. I’ll also accept the corollary: if it’s a temp job, I have the right to leave whenever I want to.
Among other things, I’ve discovered that I like being “old.” I work about as much as I want to. I’m still fairly active, but I’m willing to concede that there are some things I can’t do any more. (I refuse to drive long distances on a regular basis, for example.) For those who are interested, I’m happy to share what I’ve learned. For those who are not, I’ll mention one more point of interest.
Over the past ten years, I’ve been rejected (oh, the pain of rejection!) by several organizations that have since gone out of business. Could I have saved them? Probably not. On the other hand, I have saved myself from going through all that again. Thanks to some sort of guardian angel, I think I win in the long run.
