Creeping doubt has been edging its way into my consciousness for a wee while now. Whilst I don’t think I’m completely past it, a chain of events has really made me question my own relevance in the world of work. These feelings that I might, just might be entering the has-been years, were undoubtedly triggered by the passing of a milestone birthday last year, but they’ve been exacerbated by the march of modernity.
The first red flag that I might be yesterday’s news was learning recently that cassette tapes are currently a hipster must-have. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE a cassette tape – I spent hours making mix tapes right up ’til my mid 30s, and who could forget that classic cassette ad featuring Wagner and the guy with his hair blown back? But lest we forget, cassettes are actually a bit crap. They stretch and warp, they unspool and get tangled in the machinery. There’s only so many times you can wind the buggers back in with a pencil… And yet, they’re back.
Then last week there was hearing an eminent charity sector CEO decrying systems and approaches which have not only completely failed to keep pace with change, but simply cannot rise to the mighty challenges of a world in flux. This was not news, hell no, but holy flux, to hear so-called solutions which are nothing but the same old, same old being called out was sobering. Made me feel that my generation have got a helluva lot to answer for.
Less to do with work, but all to do with ageing, have been several encounters which have proven that I am now, officially, a member of the vast army of Invisible Women. Trying to get served at a bar has become an exercise in red-mist inducing frustration, and don’t get me started about “attitude” when some mustachio’d and mulletted dweeb finally deigns to accept my hard-earned wonga… Or put me in any crowd of young people and watch them flow around me like a shoal of fish, completely oblivious to my very existence, self-centred wee gits. This stuff could seriously damage my confidence if my sense of self-righteousness wasn’t so solid.
The final blow to the relevance reckoning came when conducting a straw poll of media consumption recently. I mean, I know I’m ancient and everything, but I admit I was gobsmacked when out of 13 people round a table only ONE had bought a newspaper in the last year, and only two had watched a live TV news programme. It shouldn’t be a surprise, really, but real-life confirmation that quality journalism’s days are numbered left me feeling fearful, defeated and just like the dinosaur I almost certainly am. That so many people are neck deep in social media and other unverified digital content, and rely on these channels to inform their world view, simply served to concrete in feelings that my shelf life as a comms and media specialist is probably nearing its expiry date.
But whilst I certainly ain’t no achingly cool hipster, I’m far from has-been. Don’t forget, kids, you need us oldies to teach YOU about fact versus fiction.
Photo by Volodymyr Hryshchenko on Unsplash
