I’ve been actively seeking freelance writing opportunities and am quite amused to find, at 50, I’m classed as a Junior Copywriter.
Now I look at myself in selfies, and realise Junior Copywriter is stretching things.
I’ve not been IDed in supermarkets since I was about 12.
I’ve had a hard life – looked 25 at 15 I guess, so to be classified as Junior now is a misnomer.
It’s a problem when you switch career focus – you run into the brick ceiling of being senior in age, life skills and maturity (maybe not), but junior when you throw off the shackles of being employed to become self-employed in a new sector.
Interviews could be tricky too – I turn up with six youths for the Junior Copywriter role. I don’t get the job. The feedback is the 17 year old had a fuller skill set, which is code for “You’re too old. Do you not understand Junior?”
Freelance is another odd word – free, I can get. People expect you to write for free. Lance? Images of jousting knights appear in my head, as well as abscesses being popped – by dentists or doctors, not shiny knights.
Strange collocation of free and lance, more odd, in fact, than Junior Copywriter?
To be honest, I expected 50 to land last April with a funereal marching tone, or a season ticket for Greenwoods, but nothing changed from being 49 or 39 in fact. 60 will probably be the same – greyer hair, increasing chins, more wrinkles and even less chance of getting a Junior Copywriter job.
Age is clearly a state of mind.
So as 2016 arrives and we peel potatoes, simmer the lentils and grill the sausages for a traditional Italian lunch (we’ve no connections with Italy, but read that meal is a traditional harbinger of good fortune) I look forward to the year ahead, unshackled by 2015.
I will become a senior/ junior freelance copywriter – if I’m not, I’ll pop boils, or buy a round table.