The New Guy

And my manager is 23 years old.

It's not easy looking for a new job at age fifty-seven. Actually, looking is the easy part, it's the “finding” that's difficult. At the end of September I left my job after twenty-eight years without the safety net of another job to fall into. The company I worked for appeared to be going downhill, and I didn't see business rebounding any time in the future. I decided to cut my losses and pursue greener pastures, and all the rest of those cliches people say when they are starting over. I took a daring leap for someone my age. I had faith I'd land on my feet in a better place – at least I kept telling myself that.

Most people thought I was crazy for not having a job lined up before I left. My supportive family and a few close friends stood by me and helped me rationalize my decision. I put on a brave front, smiling when I said I believed something better would come along. However, as my final day at work approached, I wondered if I made the right decision. My resume solicitations did not return the multiple employment opportunities I was expecting. In my mind I already turned down several positions waiting for the right one to come along. Unfortunately, there were no offers coming in for me to reject. I didn't have a Plan B.

As luck would have it, I got a call from a new company on my last day at my old job. I bid a hasty farewell to my coworkers. I left my goodbye party and headed straight to a job interview. My fears of unemployment had been unfounded. My interview went well and I was asked to start a new job a week from that Monday. The timing was perfect. I had a week to decompress from my old job. I was relieved and extremely happy at this sudden turn of events. All of my positive thinking paid off.

I haven't been “the new guy” in the workplace for twenty-eight years. In fact, one of the new employees at my old company was called “the new guy” for two-and-a-half years after he started working there. Now I was that guy, and believe me, it's not a title anyone enjoys carrying.

Most of the staff in my new office is younger than I am. I always felt young for my age, but that was before I was working in a department full of twenty-somethings. The first week felt like the first day of school. Am I wearing the right clothes? Do I really look as old as this mirror is telling me? Is my hair okay? On day two, I brought in my “grandpa” sweater to hang on the coat rack because the new office feels like it's kept at 32 degrees year round. Maybe it's just my thinning blood.

My new manager is awesome, as most people newspaper workers are. She helped me with my transition from new employee to regular staff member. I'm finding it difficult to match the names and faces of my unfamiliar co-workers. The staff is large and there are multiple shifts, resulting in meeting quite a few people in a short time. There's Ashley and Alexis, Brittany and Britney, as well as two Dianes. it's impossible to keep everyone straight in my mind despite using all the memory tricks in my arsenal, but I'm trying.

Now that I've been at my new place of employment for a couple of weeks, I am starting to settle in. I may not be “the new guy” for very long. The company is expanding and with every new hire I am no longer “new” myself. A year from now I'll know everyone on a first name basis, and I'll know something about each of them. At most jobs you spend more time with people in your office than you do with your own family.

In a month or two, I'll know where all the stairways lead to so I won't look lost while walking down the hallway. Eventually I'll be able to drive to work with my eyes closed. Soon I'll recognize all the faces of the people I work with and I'll know what their job function is. Until then, I'll enjoy my time as “the new guy”. That sounds so much better than being known as “the old guy”.