I turned sixty-five last month and suddenly I seem to be unhireable.
I want to work, but other than working at Wal-Mart or some other store, no one wants me.
I was one of the best HVAC technicians in the state. The man I worked for closed up shop and no one wants to hire me. I can’t take a job that I am over-qualified for. I talked to the owner of the new HVAC company. We spent an hour and a half talking about the job and personal life. It felt good to sit and talk to someone who understood me. I finally got around to asking him for a job. He looked me up and down and told me that he didn’t have a position open. He did take all of my information, which was more than anyone else had done. I went home thinking that although the chat was nice, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance that I was going to get a job. I moped around the house, much to my wife’s consternation. She thought I should take one of the jobs that had called me back. I asked her if she wanted to be a door greeter. I yelled at her for the first time in years, telling her that I was a senior citizen, but I wasn’t waiting for death. I felt sorry for myself for about three weeks until the phone rang. It shocked me to hear the voice. He was offering me a job in the HVAC company. My wife knew I took a job because I danced her around the kitchen.