I decided at the start that this was not going to be a blog about Aging — well, gracefully, in denial, or just plain exclusively. I couldn’t bring myself to be that focused or limited. I wanted to deal with all my lifestyle interests, though I know the advice is to settle on something specific and stick to it.
Anyway, I am making room for quite a bit about aging (it’s something I’ve been dealing with and will want to share my thoughts) and I’m including this section on rants on the subject of Age-ism. So, here goes…. Starting off with quite a few rants, which have been building up for quite a while, and would love to include any that any readers would like to share too. The anti-ageist movement is gaining traction (quite a lot of traction), but age-ism is still entirely too acceptable and prevalent.
My very first experiences with age-ism were all too predictable. I found myself jobless and looking to restart my career at just over 40 and faced the inevitable wall of disinterest. I’d certainly read enough about how people, especially women, over 40 were considered over the hill by most employers and I managed to prove all those presumptions depressingly true.
Next, I encountered age-ism in the form of the unpleasant, disrespectful attitude towards the elderly in health care situations when my mother was recuperating from some surgery in a rehab center. My mother was not a pitiful, elderly lady. She was in her early 80s, so she was definitely old. But she’d been an executive, with a staff who loved her, a dynamo who went into journalism after her children left home and rose to that executive spot. She’d been someone other people went to for advice on just about everything and had never in living memory wanted or needed sympathy, never mind condescension.
I worked nearby and managed to get over to visit her during my lunch hour, when one of the staff (a nurse’s aide or whatever) came in with a clipboard in hand. She barely greeted (loudly, but briefly) my mother, but turned directly to me and asked, “What does your mother want for dinner?”
That stopped me for a moment. WTF??
I looked over at Mother, who was looking not pleased. I think, after that moment of being totally speechless, I answered something to the effect of “I have no idea, why don’t you ask her?” I actually wish I’d been a bit ruder. In the first place, she’d greeted Mother as if she were deaf — which she most definitely was not. In the second place – what was I, a mind reader? How was I supposed to know?
The incident was typical of her entire stay at the place. And as we dealt with more bouts of needing to be hospitalized or going in for post-op rehab for the kind of illnesses people of that age are prone to, that kind of jaw dropping insulting attitude turned out to be fairly standard.
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Then, there was a more personal experience. I’d been taking my RAV4, which I’d inherited from my aunt, to the dealership where she’d bought it for several years. I’d always checked in with the same woman service rep my aunt had dealt with – I’d inherited her along with the car. The car qualified for free lifetime oil changes, and I got whatever maintenance or repairs it really needed there. Jackie, the woman who I went to, was great. She’d come in to the waiting room and tell me the mechanics had listed a whole assortment of things the car needed. She’d show me the printout and tell me, well it only really needs this one, that and that can wait, that’s not really necessary. The bill stayed reasonable and I felt comfortable springing for whatever Jackie recommended.
Then, one day I took the car in for the oil change and to have a couple of things checked out. And was stunned to be told that Jackie wasn’t there anymore. She’d died quite suddenly.
So, I was handed on to the first available guy. I don’t remember his name. I do remember he was definitely middle aged, late-ish middle aged with gray in his beard etc. I’d have had to be a young teen mother at least for that to make sense.
And he was not Jackie.
It may not have been the first thing he said, but it’s the only thing I really remember. He announced he’d take good care of me — because I reminded him of his mom. All I could think was “So, if my daughter came in, you’d rip her off without a second thought?” Pretty sure he would too.
And … I didn’t believe that oily reassurance one bit.
Of course, he came in with a long list of expensive things he said were important. I COULD put off one or two, but it would be risky.
Believe it or not, I actually went back later for another oil change and trip check. AND another guy gave me the same line.
I found a garage just two blocks south of the dealership named after its owner, Theresa’s. I think that one is a dual annoyance. Both ageist and sexist. I can’t envision either of those guys telling my brother they’d treat him well because he reminded them of their dad.
Of course, there’ve been the times when some baby-faced cashier or sales person etc. called me “sweetheart” or “dear” in a way I was never addressed when I was 20, 30 or 40.
Media and commerials:
Age-isms 2 – commercials:
So, I settle in to watch the news and wind up and wind up gritting my teeth and silently fuming, Okay, that’s happened a lot the last few years. This time it’s not the news that gets to me.
The problem? Commercials.
Actually, over the years, there’ve been quite a few ads that tick the age-ist box.
Example 1.) the most recent. This past spring and summer, during lockdown, MSNBC was running a Geico ad that portrayed a young couple in what seems to be a new house. A rather large, obviously older woman walks into the room and makes judgmental comments, suggesting keeping up the house will be too much for the couple. Clearly the older woman is chronically critical, the opposite of supportive and just plain annoying. The subtext seemed to be: “Aren’t all mothers-in-law/mothers of adult children?? Everyone can relate, right?”
I think a lot of mothers-in-law felt demeaned and misunderstood – most of those I know do their best to be supportive and helpful, not critical.
(In contrast, Tide has been running a commercial that shows a late middle-aged couple sitting together on a couch folding laundry. The pair talk about how they thought their adult daughter thought they wouldn’t be able to cope when she move back home with her children. They cheerfully talk about how they’ve done just fine. And Tide, which works better than other detergents, helps. They’re clearly at retirement age, give or take, but they’re both positive, happy, and, as the husband chuckles and reacts to a grandchild blowing noisily into a straw in a drink, enjoy and get along with the younger members of the family. Seems to me to be a more accurate picture of a multi-generational living situation.)
Give Tide a star for positive age depiction.
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