He was wondering if I’d had a mid-life crisis. I went on to explain that I’d had few times when I realized I was getting older and that these weren’t always pleasant realizations but I didn’t have a huge pile of regrets to make up for.
I started writing the above story as a comment to Pinklightsabre‘s post So what about the mid-life crisis? The post had reminded me of some recent unpleasant realizations. It was about me, not the post. I deleted the words.
Six months ago, I received an invitation to an information session from a major French Business School. Their executive program sounded interesting: I would spend a week per month in class, which would add variety to my month; After one year, I would have a nice Masters to use as a calling card when pitching consulting services; and my Rolodex would include the school’s alumni network. I applied.
The day after my birthday I received a letter. It said that I qualified for the program but they felt their program did not suit me at this stage in my career. In very polite and politically (legally) correct terms, they were telling me I was too old. I was not surprised.
This is the first time that someone tells me I am too old for something and I cannot reply with a comment about attitude.
I’m not delusional about aging. Cuts take weeks to heal and my doctor is prescribing extra tests. There are things I’ve had to accept.
Regardless, I laugh when people suggest that I’m too old to go on a road trip to spend a weekend at my brother’s place. I’d rather philosophize about aging splayed out on the couch after a night of hardy partying than sitting at the table with those that have stopped having fun.