Pick a Card, Any Card…

The Rogue was scanning job announcements; even then, I wasn’t too sure that the younger ones out there weren’t afraid that an old goat might show them up!  I was experiencing the same thing on a different level;  I had taken a second job at a card shop, working three evenings a week and on Saturday.  No longer in the middle of the age range employed there, I could have been the mother of many of my younger coworkers.

The “manager” of the day who had worked there for the past 18 months was leaving officially at the end of that evening’s shift; but no matter. She had already established her management style long ago.  She played all evening rather than keep the crew working.  I went off to work on the cards, take care of the register, vacuum, you name it.  She remarked that I was the only one that worked hard.  I responded, “It is an old habit of mine.”

While her observation was hopeful, it didn’t mean her conscience had necessarily kicked in. The younger ones considered the workplace another extension of their social life, this particular arm with benefit of salary and discounts.  I was experiencing the first of many generational moments…and as my instincts reminded me, none of them boded well for the newer, American workplace.