Women Have an Unspoken Expiration Date
--
As I sit here left with my only real option (my passion for writing) after being turned down for yet another job that I’m completely qualified for, it has become glaringly obvious that I live in a world that puts an expiration date on women.
Whether it’s the workplace or the dating world, we are viewed as items on a shelf. Ready to expire at some unknown future point in time. We are seen as perishable food items, for lack of better comparison.
I am amazed that we live in the 21st century and yet women, no matter how far we have progressed, are still viewed as items that will expire by the age of 30, 35, 40? I don’t know. I’m not the one who made these dumb rules.
That’s right.
If you’re an adult woman around the age of 30 or older, you might expire soon or have already done so without even knowing it.
What do I mean by expiring? I suggest that you will have an even harder time getting a job or a date without a tremendous amount of effort on your part and quite possibly a large amount of wasted time only to find out they picked someone younger (but they won’t tell you that). In other words, you’re no longer someone’s first, second, or even third choice for the job or a date.
You’re last in line.
I’m sorry. I know it must hurt and piss you off hearing this, but somebody has to tell you. I wish someone would’ve told me.
Before you get too offended, I want you to know that I’m right there with you. It’s 100% crap.
What’s even more disturbing is I’ve realized throughout this past year, after constantly applying for all kinds of jobs since last summer and only landing three interviews, that I’m a part of this expired group of women. Talk about a wake-up call. I thought it wasn’t until your late fifties that you had to worry about stuff like that.
This “special” class of women is secretly thought of by society as The Expireables, The Unhireables in the working world, and as the Last of the Dateables in the dating world.
I’ve been experiencing it first hand along with some of my friends who are also 30ish and early 40ish. I wish someone would have told me when I was in my 20’s (hell, even my early thirties would’ve been nice) that we, as women, have an unspoken expiration date firmly placed on us by society.
We’ve been unknowingly marked as having expired like a bunch of eggs in an egg carton waiting to be thrown out in the trash. Sorry, somebody had to say it.
Someone somewhere decided women expire at a certain age which also ties in with the all-too-prevalent problem of Ageism. A fancy word for age discrimination — discriminating against someone based on their age, usually they are older than the discriminating person. So yeah, it’s a form of age discrimination. Yay, us.
To many, we no longer hold the same value we once had. And God help you if you decided to stay home to raise your children or have a life outside of your career. You’re seen as weak instead of the strong, capable person that you are.
To be quite frank with you, I’M PISSED about all of this.
I’m pissed that nobody told me that when I decided to stay at home with my kids that I would one day no longer be able to get a decent job that would pay my bills once they were older, even with my college degree and experience. Or that I would be treated as less than valuable compared to a 20-year-old with no job experience, let alone life experience. I should mention that I live in a college town, maybe that’s my problem.
I know I’m not alone in this ridiculous paradigm. I’ve heard from other women, such as those who commented in my article below, that they too have faced outdated ideologies about women in the workplace. These are talented, educated women who have been unable to re-enter the workplace (or had a tough time doing so) because they took a bit of time off to raise their kids. I’ve expanded further on this topic in the article below.
I’m just so tired of being compared. Sorted. Valued or shall I say, undervalued by people who judge you mainly on your age and not your experience. Or who you are as a person. Judge me by how I treat people and how kind I am — not how old I happen to be. Especially, if I still have it going on.
Once again, It’s total bullshit.
I’m also pissed beyond belief that I’m facing the reality of men seeing me in some weird category between youngish, M.I.L.F., and too old to give a shit. I’m not dating again yet, but I will soon be back on the market, and it was already slim pickings five years ago.
Apparently, if you’re older than 30 years old, you are considered a dinosaur in the working and dating world. In my case, I’ve been blessed with looking younger than I am but as soon as they know my age, it somehow changes people’s perspective of me. As if I magically aged right before their eyes.
What I don’t get is how the fact that I’m older has in any way negatively changed my efficiency as a person or as a lover for that matter. If anything, it’s graced me with wisdom, poise, and a broader perspective on life, not to mention, some sexy moves in the bedroom.
So why, I ask you, does the world at large see aging as a negative? Mainly as a negative in regards to women? Men growing older are seen as sexy silver foxes while women are seen as growing into old hags. Wtf?
It’s times like these that I thank God that I’m a writer. I have no idea how I’d make it through this entire bullshit situation without some way of expressing the heartache, sadness, and sheer disappointment that getting older has bestowed upon me thus far.
What I want to know is, when did women growing older become something terrible? When did we stop honoring older women for being the wise, well-equipped creatures that they are? Who the hell decided that we are no longer “useful” to society once we reach a certain age? The younger me would’ve blamed men, but the truth is that I have found this prejudice in women as well.
The last person I had an interview with was a woman younger than me who seemed to be kind and genuinely interested in possibly hiring me. But when I mentioned my gap in work history due to raising my children, she seemed to wince and start really scanning my resume. You may automatically say, “Well, it’s because of your gap in employment. Duh.” But I’ve covered that gap in employment with other interviewers, and it didn’t seem to be a problem. It honestly looked like she was adding up how old I was based on the dates I put on my resume. Almost like she was tallying it up in her head. I don’t think it was the fact that I had kids since she boasted about how most people in the office had kids and how they were a very family oriented workplace. No, I kind of wonder if it was the fact that I was older and not some fresh out of the box college kid.
Who knows.
All I know is this whole unable to get a job thing is inspiring something new in me. I’m seriously considering trying my own version of one of my favorite hit TV shows called “Younger”. I think I might just try what Liza did, minus the fake id and all. I’ll just dye my hair to a “young” color and study up on what all of the millennials do. Then I’ll tailor my resume to be exactly what they expect from a younger candidate. That’s going to take some serious research. Then all I will need is a Maggie. I wonder where I can find one of those? She could help me do my make up and give me some amazing tips on how to “be younger”.
I’m only half kidding here.
The worst part about all of this is that deep down I don’t really want to work at some boring ass 8–5 job. I want to be a writer. A pay-my-bills kinda writer (insert a dreamy-eyed smile). But my son needs food on the table and a roof over his head. And we’re tired of sharing a small apartment with my other son. It is definitely crowded over here. And the absolute crap part of it all is my very well paid soon-to-be-ex-husband gets to sit back and laugh at how crappy my life is now while he drinks his wine in the beautiful house I once lived in. But if I have to pick between living with an emotionally, verbally, and mentally abusive person in the lap of luxury or living in a mostly peaceful tiny apartment, then I think you can tell which one I would pick. And no, I can’t kick him out and live there. He bought the house before we met, so it’s his. And that’s fine.
I JUST NEED A JOB TO PAY THE BILLS.
Conclusion
So the take away from this story is that it shouldn’t matter if a woman (or man) is older. What does matter is whether or not they can get the job done and do it well. Or if they’re an amazing person, you’d like to date.
The point is. . .We, as a collective, need to be more focused on the quality of the person and not the quantity of their age. We should be more worried about the wisdom and experience they bring to the table than what year is on their birth certificate. Honestly, who the hell cares.
As far as my story goes, I guess my only other option is to try to Younger my life and see what happens. I honestly don’t know what else to do. Or maybe I’ll move. Although, I’m not so sure it would be any better somewhere else.
Thanks for reading Writers Guild — A Smedian publication
Write for us. Share your stories on ManyStories.com to reach more readers. Auto-tweet your stories on repeat with Signal to increase engagement.
