Ageism: The Ism Everyone Gets Away With

The prejudice we laugh about—until we’re the ones being laughed at.

I’m sure I’ve been guilty of ageism.

And if we’re all guilty of it, maybe when it eventually becomes our turn, what we’re experiencing isn’t exactly instant karma—but it’s karma nonetheless.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.

Even during my 13-plus years at Apple, a company that prides itself on inclusion and diversity, the everyday ageism I experienced was pretty rampant.

Luckily for everyone around me, I don’t get offended easily.

If you ask me what it was like living during the Revolutionary War, I’ll probably laugh.

But there is a difference between a joke and someone genuinely not seeing you as a contemporary.

Just this past week, a coworker honestly thought I had seen The Beatles play live.

The Beatles.

A band that broke up the year I was born.

He wasn’t joking.

He was serious.

I looked at him and said:

“HOW OLD DO YOU THINK I AM?”

And that’s the weird thing about getting older. Eventually, other people start making assumptions about you based on a number rather than the person standing in front of them.

Try Finding a Job When You’re Older

Job hunting is probably one of the hardest things for an older person to do.

Ageism is rampant in the job market, and there isn’t always much you can do about it.

I try not to put the years I graduated from college on my resume.

Why would I?

You don’t need to know when I graduated. You need to know that I have a degree and that I know how to do the job.

But the moment you put certain dates on a resume, you’ve potentially given someone a reason to decide you’re “too old” before they ever meet you.

I’ve even been tempted to dye my hair when I’m job hunting.

Think about how ridiculous that is.

I’m considering changing my appearance because I know someone might look at me and decide that my age makes me less valuable.

And that’s not really about experience.

It’s about assumptions.

But Music Is Where I Feel It the Most

Maybe some of this is in my head.

I’m willing to admit that.

But I don’t feel like the stereotypical older person.

I don’t need to sing “Sweet Caroline” at a bar.

I don’t need to hear “Hotel California” one more time.

And I don’t want to spend my evenings sitting at a bar while some dude with an acoustic guitar plays Cat Stevens covers.

I love discovering new music.

Most of the new music I discover is made by young people.

And, naturally, most of the audiences at those shows trend young too.

So when I go to these events, I sometimes feel completely out of place.

And I wonder if I make the artist uncomfortable when I introduce myself.

Maybe that’s entirely in my head.

Maybe it isn’t.

But there is this strange feeling of being an older person in a space that doesn’t seem designed for you.

And I understand why.

I’m a white, middle-aged man.

Probably the worst thing you can be in 2026.

But here’s the thing:

I can’t stop getting older.

Just like other characteristics people are born with or can’t simply change, aging isn’t something I can opt out of.

I’m going to keep getting older until I stop getting older.

And I think sometimes younger generations look at older people and see them as useless at best and trouble at worst.

I get some of that.

I’m Gen X, and I am certainly not a fan of Boomers.

And I get irrationally annoyed when someone calls me a Boomer.

But my problem with Boomers isn’t their age.

It’s their ignorance.

That’s an important distinction.

Getting Older Doesn’t Mean Becoming Someone Else

Maybe that’s the thing we forget.

We talk about generations as though people magically transform when they cross some invisible age line.

You’re young.

Then you’re middle-aged.

Then you’re old.

And apparently, somewhere along the way, your interests are supposed to disappear.

Your curiosity is supposed to disappear.

Your sense of humor is supposed to disappear.

Your desire to discover new things is supposed to disappear.

But it doesn’t.

I’m still me.

I still want to discover a band I’ve never heard before.

I still want to draw.

I still want to make things.

I still want to go to shows.

I still want to meet interesting people.

I still get excited about discovering something new.

The number attached to my age doesn’t change any of that.

So If You’re Younger, Give Us a Chance

I’m not asking younger people to suddenly become best friends with every middle-aged guy they encounter.

I’m asking for a little openness.

When you meet someone older, see the person before you see the age.

You might find someone with a lot of youth left in them.

You might learn something from them.

You might discover that you have more in common than you expected.

And if they say something ignorant?

You have my permission to walk away.

Seriously.

But don’t assume someone is irrelevant because they’ve been alive longer than you.

Because eventually, if you’re lucky, you’re going to be that person.

And maybe you’ll discover what I have:

Getting older doesn’t necessarily make you feel old.

Sometimes it just makes you realize how quickly everyone else has decided you are.

We all end up here.

It sucks.

I’m just asking for a little more humanity when we do.

We’re not dead.

Yet.