I Was Denied A Job Interview For The Most Frustrating Reason — 'I Felt Like An Inconsequential Piece Of Dirt'
I had the experience and the drive, but one unfair detail kept me from even getting in the door.
Courtesy Of Author How hard is it to find someone’s age online? Not hard at all. Old. That’s what must have happened, I thought.
For a week, I felt like I’d been smashed into the dirt. I wanted to tell people, but I was too ashamed. My age had to have been the reason. Too old to get hired. My self-esteem plummeted, and I quit talking for a few days. I didn’t know what to say and felt like my ideal version of the world shifted.
I was denied a job interview for the most frustrating reason: my age.
In my world, older employees matter. Especially when they’ve proven themselves. Maybe I would sour the company culture with my ridiculously driven work ethic.
No, I thought. Everyone at the company works hard. Then they play hard, and they collaborate and plan. All the things I’ve always done.
Not getting hired is one thing — I didn’t even get an interview. Given how hard I worked for the company, didn’t it seem like I would at least be offered an interview? Even a kind, patronizing, “No, thank you?”
The form letter sat in my email inbox. It’s still there — the cheery little no. The same email was sent, no doubt, to hundreds of applicants — people who have never donated the thousands of hours I have.
Not even a personal kindness from a familiar name, I thought. I learned a long time ago to cry in the bathroom or the stairwell — or with Zoom turned off — so I didn’t let anyone know how bad that “no” made me feel.
It felt like being told, “You don’t matter to us. Not at all.” Of course I don’t.
I’m too old to even merit an interview — for all my donated time, and in anticipation of even more donated hours, it seems odd they wouldn’t talk to me, at the very least.
Ground Picture / Shutterstock
Couldn’t I be like that person on American Idol who goes into an audition and sings something really bad? But the thing is, I wouldn’t have. I know I’m good at what I do. I would have hit all the notes.
They would have done the slow, then accelerating applause — or at least said, “We appreciate you, but you’re not quite the right fit for this job.” Appreciation for all the free work.
I’ve volunteered for the very same job for a number of years and enjoyed great success and accolades. I was asked to be a speaker at a company conference. Members of the work team — highly paid members — wrote me private notes and emails to ask my opinions. When the company gave workshops, the red carpet was rolled out.
Despite some growing signs that the company wasn’t flourishing, I maintained a positive attitude. When several employees asked my opinion, I gave it — but always kept the company’s higher-ups in mind. What would they think if they overheard me? I’m mindful of my place in the hierarchy, so I tried to keep my head down and avoid company drama.
As a volunteer, I had no right to throw my opinions around on social media and avoided public discussions. Meanwhile, I kept working hard. As a retired high school teacher, I’ve always been organized. Side gigs are my income now.
I edit writers, run a popular Airbnb on the Oregon Coast, and manage another rental. With several animals to take care of, I’m busy with that too. Yet, I always managed to do volunteer work for the company.
I loved working with them, and they loved me, right until I applied for a job with them.
The job description appeared as though it was written from notes I kept about my duties. I was stunned and wondered if sharing my job responsibility notes had been used to draft the job description. I toyed with applying.
They’d never give me an interview, I thought. They’ll think I’m too old.
Several people contacted me when the job was posted. You have to apply! They’re recruiting you, they must be! This is everything you do!
At first, I dismissed the thought of applying. Then, I thought, “Why not? I’m already doing so much work.”
When I assembled my application materials, I realized how qualified I was and wondered if I needed to submit more experiences and qualifications. Should I include my publishing background overseas? Should I include the additional university degrees? Off the application went, into the online world.
I waited to heart with optimism and hope. Then came the form letter, and just like that, I felt like an inconsequential speck of dirt.
Old dirt. Old as dirt. Not sure I’ll apply for any more jobs. It’s too disheartening. Then again, perhaps I’ll be like Jean Smart, who plays Debra Vance on the fantastic series Hacks. Debra Vance, an aging Las Vegas star, struggles to stay relevant in a world that values youth.
I like to think that, like Vance, I can riff with the Avas of the real world and find middle ground working with younger people. All those Gen-X, Y, Zs, and so on. Keep up with mirroring screens and running elaborate online groups.
Order a new laptop before the tariffs shoot us all into some weird Luddite universe — like that ultra-religious cult group of people on The Last of Us. Align my work with my values. Collaborate and plaster my sticky note thoughts into the collective conscience. There’s still time.
Debra Groves Harman is a creative non-fiction memoirist who's been published in myriad magazines.
