Gettin’ Old — Weathering the Storms or The Hubris of Seagulls
Fading Radiance, Rising Resilience: A Story of Ageing Amidst Youthful Ephemera
I recently went to a business meeting. An IT company, 200 employees tapping away at keyboards, and a PR/coaching person who met me outside her office door.
I wanted to discuss the possibility of a short-term contract as an educator within their company.
She invited me into her office. Before sitting down I offered the polite introduction of my name, then I stated her name; I always do this, it confirms I’m in the right place, and normally, warms up the conversation in an awkwardly silent room.
“My name’s Durham — you’re Frau Schmidt, right?”
She looked over her shoulder as she walked through the office, then wagged a finger at the Toblerone sign on the edge of her desk, “it’s there, my name, that’s why it’s written on that sign, so people know my name.”
She said this with an impatient tut-tut, it immediately filled the room with ice.
I kept my wool-gloves on for safety.
She sat. I sat. I made sure that I kept a blank face. It was my resting face, ‘I’m only here to talk — not desperate’.
