A Crotchety Old Man

So . . . apparently the title of this blog post refers to me. In the past year or so I have been the target of a seemingly-coordinated series of attacks designed to make me feel old (for the record, I’m not old – I’m 35). What bothers me most of all about this is that it bothers me.

You see, I’m generally not a vain person. Anyone who knows me personally can see that – I dress pretty sloppily, don’t often iron my clothes, wait a week too long to get a haircut and only shave when I have to (lest you get the wrong idea, I do shower and brush my teeth. I’m not a slob, just a little lazy in the self-presentation department). It’s probably because I feel that my natural handsomeness combined with my laissez-faire fashion sense gives me a devil-may-care charm that is ever so winning.

But for some reason it really gets under my skin (my wrinkled, sere old man skin, I guess) when I am mistaken for older than I am. Here are some recent examples of this happening:

- Some colleagues of mine were trying to figure out who was the youngest person in our department (slow week, I guess) and they asked my age. I answered with the question (that I have learned I should not ask) of how old they thought I was. The answer they gave? 40. When pressed for explanation after I revealed they overshot the mark, one of them said I looked “mature” and “seasoned.” I am not a bag of chips or a well-cooked steak; I don’t want to be seasoned.

- In class last semester I gave the students a group exercise for which they were to determine a promotional strategy. One group was discussing using Facebook to spread the word about their product. A group member brought up the point that the desired customers were older (about 40-50), and whether Facebook was the right medium; his exact words were “Do old people use Facebook?” A different group member said that she didn’t know, and then turned to me and asked if I used Facebook. Ouch (on an unrelated note, I have recently joined Facebook).

- This week I was in the cafeteria at the University (where I work – and an environment where you’re surrounded by 20-year-olds is not the best place to be if you don’t want to be made to feel old) and there was a larger than usual crowd, owing to one big group that was there. One of the guides for this group asked if I was with them, which I wasn’t. Once I got in line I asked a different guide what the group was. It turns out that every day a different group of incoming students (aged 17-18) came in with their parents for a tour. Which means that the first guide thought that either a) I was an incoming student (uh, unlikely hardly seems to sum that one up) or b) the parent of an incoming student. Now I know that it is possible that I could have an 18-year-old child, but it’s not exactly likely. Which means that he thought I looked older than I am. Dagnabit! These kids today.

I don’t think this situation is going to improve anytime soon. After all, I ain’t getting any younger. And while we’re on the subject of clichés related to age, I’d like to disagree with a classic: “You’re only as old as you feel”? Nope – I’m only as old as I’m made to feel.