The large majority of the people that I work with (particularly those on my team) are quite a bit older than I am. There’s one who’s only a year older, but the next youngest person is 43. I believe there’s one other person in his forties, then the remaining fifteen or so are fifty or older. So, yeah. I’m very strongly in the minority.
There seems to be a whole lot of emphasis on the fact that there are currently four different generations in the workplace together (The Greatest Generation, Boomers, Gen X, and Millenials), so I’ve actually done quite a bit of reading on the subject. A lot of people talk about the stereotypical characteristics of each generation, how you have to treat and reward each one differently, and how we can learn to be more respectful of each other’s differences. And that’s all very important. But today I would like to do the exact opposite of that and whine about one of those differences.
There’s a very long story regarding my absence to be told in here somewhere, and I may get around to it eventually, but the short version is that I’m working on pulling my life back together and I’m hoping that getting back into regular blogging will be a part of that. I have plenty to write about since I’ve missed so much, so there should be enough to fuel my posts for at least a couple of weeks.
This post is super outdated because what I’m writing about happened like three weeks ago, but it was also super adult so I can’t leave it out! I hosted my very own, very first, real life dinner party! With real life adults! Whoot!
Seriously, though. Boyfriend came to visit and helped me out with this a ton and as soon as my coworkers and their significant others left we just turned to each other like “man, we are SO adult!”