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For most of my working life, I worked in a solid job. I climbed the career ladder for 15 years and became a Managing Partner in a large, market research agency. I had a great salary. I wasn’t paid the same amount as my male peers (I oversaw appraisals, and saw the salary spreadsheets…). But I still felt lucky because by and large it was a great company.
However, aged 40, when I had my first child, and was two weeks into maternity leave, I got a text saying that my role no longer existed. A few months later, there was an awkward lunch where it became clear that I wasn’t desirable, I was being demoted to a less senior role, and – they stressed -was lucky to have any role to return to at all. Of course, I should have done something, but I’d internalised the belief that mothers couldn’t return to the same high-pressure job they were doing before. It’s a common story for many, unfortunately.
I did return, then took voluntary redundancy a few years later: things were never the same as before I had children. I then pin-balled from one role to the next. I was like someone who’d just got out of a long-term relationship. None of these roles lasted more than six months.
As I got into my late forties, I was paranoid that people would think I was too old for dynamic cultures. Interview processes became harder. They often asked whether I was “up for it” and I knew they were hinting. I was persuaded by recruiters to go for roles below my pay grade. “You’ll be unlikely to find anything as well paid as your previous job,” they said, “It’s a different climate.” Different in what way? Because I was older? I still had vast amounts of experience, had headed up entire offices, but already I could feel this creeping paranoia.
I was getting older and this mattered. Of course, I never put my age on my CV, but it was clear if you looked at what I’d done that I wasn’t in my thirties. A third (33 per cent) of over fifties fear they won’t secure another job due to age discrimination, and that concern is more acute amongst women over 50. A poll by TotalJobs also revealed that applicants over 55 are widely seen as less desirable hires. If you add the fact that many women are navigating perimenopause/menopause, well, you can see that this could send many into a midlife spiral.
Sometimes I’d get hired, but then the roles wouldn’t work out. Of course, I can’t say it was never my fault but nonetheless I felt ageism played a part. In one company, the boss – who was around the same age as me – had a conversation with me: “I feel like you’re not happy here,” she said, “It’s not your kind of place. We need a different kind of energy.” I was 49, did she think “my kind of place” was a retirement home? Was she struggling with a similar feeling?
I didn’t love the job but this “different kind of energy” felt to me like they wanted more youth. Taylor Swift, not Madonna. I found it ironic, as a younger colleague was going through a crisis and was rarely in the office, so I was doing a lot of work supporting her emotionally.
When I wasn’t in roles, I applied to many jobs and never heard anything back. I’d got it into my head that I couldn’t take on a really senior role anymore, but now it seemed that the fact I was going for lower paid jobs was weird? Sometimes I would have “chemistry meetings” and they’d go well. “We LOVE you. We want to offer you the role, and will get back to you right away.” Then silence.
I’d often hear nothing at all. “Oh we’re not hiring anymore,” they’d say and I’d worry that my face looked haggard on the call. Was it because I referenced Take That in a joke? Was it possible to put a filter on your Zoom to make you look more dynamic? (Turns out, I could add a filter, but didn’t want to be later accused of professional catfishing).
Two years ago, I entered the freelance arena after getting sick and tired of the application grind, and initially found that clients were pretty flaky, too. I would have long conversations about potential projects. They’d “pick my brains” for an hour, squeezing out every ounce of expertise, then they’d enthusiastically tell me I was fantastic and I’d never hear from them again.
On numerous occasions I was promised jobs, then informed that someone else had come along. “Hope we can collab on something soon!” When I’d do detective work on LinkedIn, I’d notice the person they’d hired was 15 years younger than me. I did get one role where the fact that I was older was an advantage: a startup targeting menopausal women. “I really need someone with your specific expertise, someone who understands older women,” said the boss.
I quickly realised, however, that the team had high turnover. Employees were taking it in turns to cry in the toilets. Everyone was younger (mid-twenties), and I felt like I was the emotional support animal for the whole team. I saw for myself the benefit of being older, that I could weather emotional storms, difficult personalities, and complex dynamics a little better. This is something many employers seem to forget. It’s not just skills, it’s life experience that makes you better equipped to do your job. That makes you give less of a s**t and, therefore, better able to work.
Now I’m 53 and fully freelance. I have stopped trying to get permanent roles and it does seem to be working. It’s obviously not just about age as many people I speak to, young and old, are getting a sense that employers are toying with them. Behaving like toxic dates; promising one thing then ghosting them. It seems we care less about humans and something has been lost.
I need to build up my confidence now. When work is quiet, I can feel my own internalised ageism creeping in. Is it quiet because there’s someone younger and more relevant getting it? Do I know enough about AI and tech? (I have taught myself a lot in the past few months).
Female friends in their fifties tell me how hard it is to get roles. They are applying for dozens of jobs, and never hearing anything back. They feel invisible. They are deeply paranoid. They think it’s age related but find it hard to prove. I tell them to keep going, to push forward, that something will come up soon. I know how terrifying it feels.
