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Age discrimination is against the law, but it happens every day. Doubtful? Have a look around you…when last did you see a beautiful woman in the unemployment line? Conny Manero sounds off.
A few years ago, I was working for an investment company when one of the admin assistants was promoted, and thus a vacancy opened up.
A temp agency was contacted, and the next day a woman in her forties showed up who barely stood five feet tall. By the end of the day, her assignment was terminated.
The second temp had all eyes on her because of her flamboyant appearance. Her long, straggly grey hair was in sharp contrast with her bright orange blouse, ankle long green skirt, and multi-coloured fringed shawl. She was given her walking papers by lunchtime.
The third was of normal height, soberly dressed, with a nice hairstyle and understated makeup but clearly overweight, if not obese.
I happened to be near the Human Resources office when the manager came to have a word with the staff and lost his cool. “What’s with these temps I’ve been getting?” he fumed at the women. “First a shrimp, next a gypsy and now a whale…get me a temp I can work with!”
Two days later, temp number four walked through the door and I knew right away, she was a keeper.
She was in her mid-twenties, of average height, with honey-blonde hair that fell halfway down her back. She wore a black skirt with a white blouse straining against her massive breasts, and heels that emphasized her long tanned legs. If that wasn’t enough, she had the face of an angel: big Barbie-like blue eyes, a fine nose, and glossy pink lips over pearly white teeth. “I’m Casandra” this paragon of loveliness said, “but everyone calls me Cassy.”
I was assigned to train Cassy, and it soon became clear that I had my work cut out for me. While at an intermediate level in MS-Word, she only knew the basics of Excel and Outlook and nothing about PowerPoint while her typing left much to be desired. If her beautifully manicured fingers reached 40 words a minute, it was a lot. Still, after only one week, Cassy was offered the job full-time.
When the investment company went through a rough patch and half the staff was laid off, I wasted no time looking for another job. I figured that with a solid track record finding employment would be no problem, but despite my extensive knowledge and years of experience, I had one major setback: I am no spring chicken.
The first interview I went on was with a law firm. The lawyer and I had an enjoyable chat, until she asked me: “How much longer are you planning on working?” The question threw me for a loop. How much longer was I planning on working? I didn’t know, 10 or 15 years? I hadn’t really thought about retirement.
The second interview was with an agency that supplied assistance to young mothers, the elderly and convalescents. I met with the president of the company and her son who needed an assistant. The interview went fine, until she asked me when I was planning on retiring.
I looked at her in astonishment. Despite her stylish, coiffed hair and carefully applied makeup, there was no doubt she well into her sixties and I thought, how can you ask me that? You probably retire long before me. As it happened, I gave her my sweetest smile and said: “I don’t know. Why don’t we retire together?” She didn’t like that one little bit.
Interview #3 took place in the middle of winter. I had been cold, yet dry when I entered the subway, but by the time I came out, a biting wind blew ice pellet-like snowflakes in my face while constantly blowing the hood of my jacket off my head. Still, I braved the elements, along with the slippery sidewalk to get to the address of a tile company.
The receptionist frowned when she saw me coming in. I couldn’t blame her as I must have looked like a drowned rat. My hair plastered to my skull, my makeup all but washed off, and ice cold feet squashing in wet shoes. I tried to fix myself up as best as I could, but when I was shown to the interview room and met the president (a regal looking lady in a pristine white suit, with a Grace Kelly hairstyle and shimmering pearls), I felt as bedraggled as a scruffy kitten.
The woman wasted no time. She thanked me for coming but stated that she was looking for a more polished individual. I wanted to strangle her with her pearls while demanding, “Hey lady, when last did you walk three kilometers in a snowstorm?”
Age discrimination might be against the law, but it happens every day. When turning down a mature or not-so-perfect looking candidate, employers merely state that the candidate didn’t make a good impression, didn’t have the required experience, or my personal favourite: that she wouldn’t fit in.
When it comes to age versus beauty, beauty wins every time. When it comes to accounting or some other tucked away department, older people might stand a chance, but if it involves meeting or greeting clients, it would seem that beautiful people have a definite advantage.
Conny is a writer living in Toronto. She’s an avid reader, a keen ten-pin bowling player, and an advocate for shelter animals.
Have you ever faced discrimination? How did you handle it? We’d like to hear from you! Leave a comment below.