I have always liked getting older.
Mainly it is because my twenties were so tumultuous. My husband, Rob, has had trouble understanding my love of aging. Over and over again, I told him that I loved getting wiser and I loved not giving a rat’s ass what anyone thought of me. I loved the freedom in letting go of convention and living life on my own terms.
Well folks, I am sad to say at 46-years-old, amidst the crappiest job search of all times, I am questioning my viewpoint.
Lately, I have just been feeling old and redundant and I do not like it.
Back in the late 90s and early 2000s temp agencies could be a life saver. They could offer some respite between jobs, and sometimes they could find you a position that becomes more permanent. And the best thing was, you had a human in your corner rooting you on and connecting you with other humans. It was about real life networking.
Welcome to 2026.
Yesterday, I decided in all my glorious wisdom to seek out help from temp agencies here in Tucson. Weeelll….
The three places I ventured to, during the open hours, posted on their website, no human was stationed there.
Let me back up a bit.
The first two places were in “high rise” buildings. I put it in quotes because I grew up in the west suburbs of Chicago and was very familiar with city living. Tucson’s buildings that require an elevator are not quite in the same league.
Apparently, I haven’t used an elevator lately. I felt like that mermaid in the 80s movie Splash. Crap, here I go, dating myself.
I mean, I have used an elevator thousands upon thousands of time. No problem.
Yesterday, I could not even find the basic button to open the damn elevator. I pushed the only button I saw even though it had a wheelchair icon on it. The computer instantly started screaming aloud,
“You have entered accessibility mode.”
In my head I am screaming,
“Abort, abort, abort.”
Then I notice a screen and, apparently, outside the elevator, you push the floor number you want to go to on said screen. So I did that, and then the screen shows you which elevator you will be using. And then you enter the elevator, the door closes, and you press nothing else.
I felt like an alien in a new world.
When I arrived at the first office suite on my mission yesterday, I was greeted by someone who works at a shared co-working space. The woman seemed confused,
“Do you have an appointment?” she asked.
And I said something like,
“No. I was trying out the old school approach.”
So awkward.
She was sweet and we chatted. And she kind of looked me up and down and asked what kind of work I was looking for.
I was dressed professionally in a striped button-down collared shirt, tan colored dress pants, cute closed toed shoes with a little flair – some quiet sparkles and a flower, and jewelry that had some pearls along with some of my favorite symbolism, an open eye and a sparkly hand. The embellishes were subtle. I had done my make up in an understated, professional way and I had blown dried my dark brown medium length hair.
I told her I was looking for “executive leadership jobs.”
She looked at me, with this sort of look, that said, you are not where you belong, and she said that they seem to staff blue collar workers based on who she has seen come in.
Since they are an international staffing agency their website shares a very different story. Tucson, from what I keep hearing, is not the same as other job markets.
The nice lady suggested another agency in that building and then I went on my way. She couldn’t quite remember the name of the agency, and I wasn’t convinced she knew what she was talking about.
So I went to the next place on my list. I generally no longer print out resumes, because that does feel antiquated, even for an oldie like me. On this particular day though, I had two copies in a manilla folder in a tote bag, I had been gifted recently, from a new bookstore in town.
The second place had the same elevator situation.
Luckily, this time I was more informed. I did notice that a school I had applied to be the Executive Director of Admissions at was under construction in this building. This did fascinate me. It was going to be a nice school. But, I had no idea if anyone had even looked at my application.
One of the weird things at these two temp agencies was that their signage was almost invisible. It was difficult to find them.
This second place I found no humans at all. A shut door where I could see a bunch of cubicles.
This was not the world I remembered. I just wanted some help.
I recall temp agencies being a whole big operation fully staffed and open and anticipating drop-ins. I remember getting tested on my typing skills and on a host of other administrative skills.
This is not the world I remembered.
After the disappointing locked door and zero humans, I had one more place on my list.
This time there was a helpful man there who apparently was the operations director of, yet another, shared space.
The recruiter I was looking for was apparently not there. The guy gave me her business card, and I called her from the parking lot. We made an appointment for two hours later.
I felt hopeful for about 5 minutes, because, at the very least, she had anticipated, that humans might drop by unannounced.
Sadly, getting in front of a human, in this case, did not help.
Sure she was human, but I ended up essentially being her therapist, by accident. She confided in me that she is burnt out and wants a different career, but she has been doing this for twenty years and doesn’t know what else to do. And this was the person I hoped would help me.
So I went home, trying not to let this experience defeat me. It was back to the drawing board. I found an agency that supposedly does executive recruiting, and I filled out an inquiry request on their website. I have not heard back yet today.
On my own job treasure hunt, as of today, 11/3/26, I have applied to 39 jobs. I have attempted to personalize as many of my applications as I can. I have heard back from exactly 1, and that job is paying so low that it is almost insulting, especially since they want me to bring all my big picture, analytical savviness to the table, alongside my well-honed humanity skills.
No thank you.
And yet, can I be picky when I need to put food on the table? When my three cats need treats and wet food, in addition to their dry food? When my husband is holding it all together for all of us?
I was hoping the temp agencies could, at the very least, keep my head above water, while I ensure I find the best fit for me where I can truly contribute and make a difference, and be compensated equitably.
Back in the day, it was common, for a temp agency to offer short term assignments - data entry, filing, one time I was a greeter at a store for a few months. It created a financial bridge that would be very useful to allow me to be choosier with the longer term jobs that I commit to. It is important for me to feel truly aligned.
Sadly, I have not even been able procure simple, temp projects. It is not as easy as it once was.
Is this because of AI?
I even tried to apply to several AI-based roles, many months ago, but got zero response. It is humbling to say the least.
In my head and my heart I feel very young. I feel in my prime. I have made a million efforts to stay up with the skills needed in the current climate, but now I am wondering whether it is enough.
My story has not been linear, and it is hard to show in a succinct short little resume everything I bring to the table, and when it is so hard to get in front of a real life human, I am no longer certain I stand a chance.
To make matters a million times worse, yesterday, after already feeling old as dirt, I go to the doctor’s office, and I had gotten new insurance. I only had the card on the app. In the parking lot I noticed an error with the app. This was not user error, I swear. So when I go in, these two younger men that work there, are hovering over me, and treating me like a dumb old lady. I mean, the one guy is trying to dumb down screenshots. I am like, no, no I know how to do a screenshot. And then in my haste and closely surrounded by them, I sent the back of the card.
When I arrived home I had a message about this and the guy assuring me the screenshot came out perfectly. No shit, sherlock. Still the app was not working so I sent him the error message that showed all the info he needed, at least I hope – member # and group #.
Before I left, I was scheduling my follow up and it was going to be telehealth. I asked if they would be sending me the link. What I really meant was, do I go to a user portal? How do I access the telehealth platform? But, I had already proven to be antiquated, it seemed. The guy then essentially mansplained step by step how telehealth works. I wanted to scream,
“Dude I was a telehealth provider. I owned my own business. I am not an old irrelevant person. LOL.”
When I got to the car, though, all I could do was laugh.
I laughed a lot yesterday.
Today I feel pretty shitty and defeated, but I know I need to keep laughing and keep plugging away, one baby step at a time.
Writing this does help to shed the ick off what has been going on.
I do not want to let this chapter define how I feel about getting older. For the love of God, I would take this phase any day over my twenties.
