You’d think working with people considerably younger than yourself would impart some sort of tempered solidarity. That each individual, regardless of generational contrasts could learn something from one another’s life experiences. The startling realisation is however that I find the temerity of youth rather irritating. They say youth is wasted on the young, I’d say oxygen is. Perhaps that’s harsh, maybe even incentive. More indicative of experiencing the onset of psychological senility in my thirties. But I don’t care. Life moves by with a passive gesture of elapsed time with methodical ignorance to your existence, all surreptitiously mobilised without consent. Birthday’s used to be a great cause for celebration, now they pass by with shrug and curious mutterings of “what the hell happened?”. So associating professionally with people in their very early 20’s just accentuates the gulf in cultural influence between people separated by only a single decade.
The trouble with escalating age isn’t nursing a rescinding metabolism, getting old, grey and having to be careful not to sit on your own testicles, though I live in constant fear of that, it’s that everyone around you appears to be getting younger. They greet you with adolescent phrases, new and preferable ways to insult one’s mother and exchange seemingly hilarious cultural references that I’m only peripherally aware of. They regale you with explicit tales of their sordid weekends and late nights, looking at you incredulously when they enquire into your Saturday night activity and explain that you fell asleep on your sofa at half 9 playing Warframe. Now this type juvenile behaviour is something reflective of myself at their age. They are certainly familiar exchanges that I’d punctuate with profanities for irreverent emphasis. Yet I don’t remember being quite so ignorant. For example I often wear a T-shirt with the “Jaws” poster on the front. Now most people have some passing knowledge of the movie, even if they haven’t seen it. Baffling as that maybe the fact that most of these Philistines haven’t seen Jaws isn’t really the issue. The problem is when they comment on it in a vaguely complimentary, yet overtly patronising manner and utter the immortal excuse “its before my time”. It’s before my time too you snarky little troll!
Another instance of such negligent ignorance occurred during one of the many frivolous lunchtime discussions held in the break room. I had made an oblique reference to the movie “Hot Fuzz”, when talking about a series of suspected assaults in the area, with one incident sadly resulting in a fatality. A colleague of mine analysed the incident declaring it a callous and shameful murder. Well he said that it was “naughty”, but you know, same difference. To which I replied “Perhaps he just tripped and fell on his own shears?”. Silence. Not. A. Word. No indication that anyone had the slightest notion of what I was blithering on about. Even tumbleweed would have blown in the opposite direction to avoid such a catastrophic use of Hot Fuzz. And I know it wasn’t because they had found my snide joke offensive, because the previous days discussion concerned whether or not Michael Jackson had “reduced the size of his penis when his skin was dyed white?!”.
I might be overreacting when I say that if you haven’t watched Jaws or Hot Fuzz, then frankly the future isn’t worth fighting for. It’s not because I’m old and grumpy. It’s not! I’m not the problem, you are! And you smell, like a poo. Any poo. Like a wet dog poo that doesn’t respect the butt-hole it’s just been discharged from! Now pull your trousers up above your butt crack and learn that there was a time before your conception. And for god sake stop saying “Fam”. I don’t know what that is?!