The enthusiasm of my young colleagues – especially those below 30 – exhausts and annoys me in equal measure. I keep thinking to myself, “Why the f*** are they so dedicated?” I want to squash the pretty Pollyanna smiles of the overeager and punch those who try to impress with a mask of cynicism. [NB Guess what kids? The faux sophistication that you hope will pass for experience only serves to annoy those with actual experience.] Then there are the good ones – upbeat, industrious, genuine. They make me feel guilty. I hate them too.
Truth is, while I am genuinely pissed with my young(er) colleagues on a regular basis, I also feel shame as I rant against them. I can’t help think to myself, “Isn’t that what they said about me once? Wasn’t I, at some point, the green overeager kid my colleague, Jay, wanted to throw out of the window? Oh, and isn’t idealism a good thing?”
I cringe when I think of the woman I was in my twenties. My older colleagues were forgiving of my arrogance. They mentored me in spite of it.
I guess this is the cycle of life. All of us start out fresh and eager. Those who either graduated top in class or have wealthy parents, were even cocky about their futures. Then life happened. It erased the unfounded pride of most, and beat many others down with divorce, death, and health issues (among other things)
I recognise the hint of jealousy in my rant. I too would like to start fresh, to have high hopes. I recognise that underneath all of the complaints, I like and respect most of my young colleagues.
I suppose I have to be kind. Pay it forward and all that. And I think I do, for the most part.
But it’s hard to be good person on a difficult day.
Midlife Space 