You know you’re getting older when you wonder whose kid that is wandering around the office, and it turns out to be your company’s newest employee.
For the first time in my career, I am on the older end of the age spectrum at work. I remember when I was fresh out of college and starting my first “real” job at the tender young age of 23. My coworkers probably thought I was somebody’s kid crashing in the office, looking for a spot to do my homework. I guess this is what they call the circle of life.
I certainly acted the part, too. One day I pretended to cut my finger off when using the paper cutter. I came rushing out of the copy room, ketchup applied liberally to my hand to simulate fake blood. Another time, I stuffed a couple of oranges down my shirt and pretended I was halfway through a sex-change operation. WTF was I thinking?!
Grapefruit would have been more impressive.
So, yeah. I wasn’t the most mature person at that age, but I was definitely the office prankster. Eventually, I took work seriously enough to end up with a promotion and transfer to the Pacific Northwest, so all’s well that ends well, right?
Apparently, our newest employee – the teenager-who-isn’t – has three kids. “Holy crap!” I exclaimed when I heard this news. “I don’t even have three kids!” Either this guy became a dad when he was 12, or he’s older than his appearance would indicate. Regardless of his true biological age, it dismays me to know that I’m old enough to think of younger people as “kids” in the first place. When did that happen?! Next I’ll be yelling at them to get off my lawn. And the “them” I’m referring to will probably be 26 years old.