This turn of events shouldn’t have been a complete surprise, as throughout the brainstorms and strategic development, the conversation had been dominated by the Alpha moms on the team who passionately debated things like whether children prefer crackers in the shape of elephants or lions.
Meanwhile, I did have fresh insights for the 50+ part of the pitch. Defying the stereotypes, the latest research showed, for instance, that these 50+ women were online. At the peak of their careers, they had broken their teeth on the technology in the workplace, and highly motivated, they adopted new tools to foster and maintain intergenerational relationship with their children and grandchildren. They relied on the Internet for information on everything from the latest medical research and best travel deals to (yes!) the most nutritious brand of crackers. To reach this highly influential generation, we should be concentrating our efforts using the social networking websites targeted to Boomers and beyond. Surely this was the kind of fresh, creative thinking that would help us land the cracker client and save my job.
But then there was Belle giving me the update. Not only had she been dis-invited, but the team leading the new business charge, finding it impossible to fit everything in, had been forced to leave grand portions of women 50+ on the cutting-room floor.
So, anger! Anger at the stereotypes, invisibility and devaluation of aging women that persisted, despite all the hard evidence to the contrary. Anger at the young marketers on our end who could dismiss us and this key demographic so easily. Anger that I had not been utilized to my fullest to help us land the business. So much for my fantasy of redemption.
Nevertheless, the anger was liberating. As philosopher William James wrote, “Much of what we call evil … can so often be converted into a bracing and tonic good by a simple change of the sufferer’s inner attitude from one of fear to one of fight; its sting so often departs and turns into relish when, after vainly to shun it, we agree to face about and bear it.”
I had indeed been on the run, chased by worries about my job and chagrin over the lack of respect. Now I stopped and took a stand, finally turning the attention off feeling sorry for myself and back onto the mission. It was a good sign that the mission had survived, since that was the only piece of what was left of my vocation that nobody could take from me.
Chapter 12 from The Year I Saved My (downsized) Soul by Carol Orsborn
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