I’ve come to a realization: I’m too old for my profession.
OK, it’s not that I’m too old. I’m only 31. There are quite a few people older than me hanging around the newsroom and getting paid for it. (I am getting dangerously close to the age where I am required to sit at my desk and lament about the good old days: When newspapers were only 50 cents — and some were less!; when X-Acto knives, line tape and wax were used to piece together newspaper pages; when typewriters and fax machines were commonly heard in the newsroom; when everyone in the world turned to the newspaper for news and entertainment. I’ll start saying clever phrases like “holy buckets.” I already say “e-gads” sometimes and refer to anyone younger than 30 as “kids” — usually “damn kids.”)
No, I’m too old for the profession I want — the techy, multimedia savvy, creative job that doesn’t mess with dirty newsprint or day-old news. Those jobs are currently held by people younger than me.
Take the Palm Beach Post’s new Backyard Post, for example. The three guys behind that? The oldest is 29; the other two are 26. And they even have official-sounding titles!
Two years ago, there might have been hope. Now, it’s all downhill. Damn kids.