It Rings True

It's a double-edged sword, to say the least.

When I'm meeting clients, vendors or prospects in a business setting, the conversation, usually over copious amounts of wine, turns to the elements of our personal life (like tonight, so please forgive anything I say from here on out). It is at this point that I feel like we really "connect." I get to see the true personality—the hobbies, interests, passions and pursuits that make these people who they really are—not just during the week, but in real life.

Unfortunately, for me, the conversation almost inevitably, and so it should, turns to children. How many, what ages, what sports they play, what talents they possess, and so on.

Genuinely, I ask, listen and nod along. I review the photos, ask the ages, record mentally their names. I do care—it is these conversations that often evoke a simple secret, a small nugget of truth, with which I can connect to the client, vendor or prospect at a later date. These factoids come in handy, and I am blessed with a strong enough short-term memory to invoke them when needed. It serves me well.

Ironically, then, that it is the exact same conversation that often reveals to me the stark contrast between what clients, vendors or prospects THINK of me, and what is real.

Most obviously, my age.

Because I do not have a husband and children (more so the latter), I am often judged as far younger than I am. I know, this seems a small price to pay and one that carries no pity from you all out there. However, in the early-to-mid part of my career, with more than 11 years under my belt and far more to come, I feel that I have worked hard to overcome many such judgments and age-based discriminations thus far.

I have risen to the occasion, met the challenge, exceeded the expectations. I have put myself, or been placed inadvertently or on purpose, in positions that will force me to "mature professionally" quickly, and have proven myself to be worthy of the opportunity. I am proud of where I stand in my career, and have nothing to hide.

But, since I don't talk openly of my little girl in first grade, or my darling son in pre-school, the aforementioned clients, vendors and prospects all assume immediately that I am younger than I am. Which, in turn, leads to a preconceived notion of my experience, or more precisely, the lack thereof.

I know I shouldn't care. I should be flattered by the impartial assummtpion that I am 25 or 26 (because, seriously, have they seen the lines on my face?). But, frankly, after working this hard for the past decade and more, I wish that it didn't require having birthed a small person to earn their trust and respect.

Because at this point, I'm practically willing to buy a CZ ring and fill my wallet and memory bank with images and stories of children that I don't yet know, if only to validate the respect and trust that I have earned through my hard work with such professional contacts.

If you're a mother, working outside the home or within, I hope you're not offended. But, please know that you're immediately granted some level of "wisdom" that I'm certain you've earned—through potty training or breastfeeding or diaper-changing—that subconsciously imparts that you are world-wise (and possibly world-weary!) in a way that cannot be transcribed to us simple working women. I can't explain it, but it's true. I see it on their faces, and then hear it in their voices when they make jokes about me being just a handful of years past college graduation. (As if. I can't even recall most of my college experience.)

I'm not claiming to know it all—or more than any of my mothering friends—but frankly, the natural assumption of business contacts that I am less of a 'mature woman' because I'm not yet fortunate to be a mother and wife assumes that I don't want that, have passed that by, aren't interested, or, frankly, wouldn't willingly leave all this behind in a heartbeat to find that privilege.

Not so fast.

The ring and the baby stroller may not be in my immediate present, but I assure you, they will be in my future. And until then, I'll continue to be the best client service professional you've ever met. And will celebrate my 26th birthday 7 more times over.

Oh wait. I have. I'll have to make that 8+.

Makes Me Hum Lionel Richie

Isn't it strange when someone reaches out of your past, and connects with you today? Hello? Is it me you're looking for?

I have had this happen twice in the last three days, one on a social networking site, and one on this little blog (and I'm guessing this involved some fancy use of Google). One was a childhood friend and one was a former boss whom I respected and liked very much, who incidentally now lives 2 hours from here.

I can't help but ponder where I am today, how much has changed since we last spoke, and what I have learned in the years past.

It makes me want to sit up straighter, suck in my tummy, shake back my hair and clear my throat. I HAVE grown and changed a lot since I knew you, person from my past, and I am a better person for it.

Time has changed me, I'll concede.

Yes, I look older and have fine lines and wrinkles to show for it. My hair sports a few greys now, but my hairdresser is a killer colorist and I will be naturally blonde forever, dammit.

I've put in long hours at work managing many a client crisis; I have dealt with and moved on from unhealthy work situations, romantic relationships and difficult friendships. I have gone into debt, and am battling back from it. Traveling for work has taken its toll, but I'm a wiser and more efficient passenger (with premium status!) now.

My body has changed, and I treat it differently now. This includes giving in to the desires for french fries—if loving deep fried potatoes is wrong, I don't want to be right.

Of course I have learned from many mistakes, some of which I am proud of having made in the first place just to know that I could. Having few regrets, I have grown up, taken charge of my life, and have improved my status in the world, even if only visible to me.

I have acquired things, but more importantly, I now can boast ownership of a little pieces of paper that make me proud: a car title, a healthy 401(k) statement, a deed to my condo, health/dental/life insurance cards and an acceptable credit score, all of which prove (on paper at least!) that I've grown up.

Maybe I'm proving this all to myself, but it feels good to self-validate every now and then. With each season comes a new wardrobe and a new perspective. New challenges, but with that comes the accolades of triumph.

Having missed my 10-year high school reunion, and not making it "home" that often to wander the halls of the local mall hoping to spot the old boyfriend or ex-friends, and not having been the one to get married and have two beautiful children, the insecurities of looking back are far fewer just knowing that I'm moving forward.

I was voted, in the highly unscientific poll amongst my closest high school girlfriends, the most likely to have a great career, and most likely to get married first.

Well, a girl can't have everything, now can she? Unless it's on sale...

Either way, I'm happy to pick up my string-attached tin can and connect. Because, gosh darnit, you got older too, person from my past.

Pretty Soon I'll be Eating Dinner at 5 PM

I saw a preview for a new NBC show called Quarterlife today, and it got me a little freaked out. They even had the audacity to use the copy line, "They're 25. And life starts now."

With all the shows aimed at the teen, college and immediately post-college market, such as The OC, The Hills, Real World, One Tree Hill, and others that I don't even know of, I realized something frightening.

I am in a new check box. Neilsen has moved me past the "young adult" category altogether.

Upon further reflection, I recall that when Friends was on, they were in their late 20s. I'm already past that. American Idol is chock-full of talented people who are in their late teens or early twenties. I'm not saying I want to be 20 anymore, but I just didn't realize how old this all would make me feel.

Maybe I need more shows like Sex and the City and Seinfeld where the plotline doesn't center on who's taking whom to the prom, or which college professor is sleeping with which co-ed? At least there is always Brothers & Sisters and The Office to keep me happy and not full of age-related self doubt...but I may have to wait until 2009 to see any more of those.

Therapy may be a more direct path to healing.