Selling Bagels Off A Greek Donkey Could Be A Better Idea Than Looking For A Job At 57

Years ago before husband, adolescents, houses and pets came along my friend Cindy and I were experiencing our day of reckoning of trip on a black beach beach on the Greek island of Santorini when a sun-weathered old person approached us selling cups of fresh fruit off his donkey.

How much for two? I requested in the international conversation of finger-pointing and other gestures.

It was perhaps my fifth jaunt to Greece and I knew how to play the bargaining recreation. I feigned abhorrence at his first premium and shooed him apart. But instead of lowering his premium as I expected he would, he plunked himself down on the edge of my sun lounger, plucked out a flask from beneath the donkeys belly and offered to share. And share we did. Business, he told us, was good. Plus, he got to look at all the jolly girls on the topless beach a perk of the job.

Ouzo , no matter how many junkets to Greece I offset, will never smack good to me. Yet we drank his flask bake. Im sure we likewise paid asking price for the outcome, and theres an excellent chance we tip-off mightily.

I remember the incident like it was yesterday for one intellect: It was how Cindy and I came to create our escape plan.It was luminou as only grandeur can be when appreciated through Ouzo-infused brains.

The plan proceeded something like this: We would return to Los Angeles time long enough to tie up the loose ends of our lives and then return to Santorini or perhaps Mykonos or Zakynthos or Paros or Antiparos where we would spend the rest of our epoches selling fresh New York-style bagels from mules on the beach. Topless, of course, because if youre going to liberate yourself, it is necessary liberate all parts.

Our business plan was simple: Bake fresh bagels each morning and stroll the seas selling them until it was time to nap.It was impunity from our corporate lords and stunning in its candour not to mention very low overhead. I imply, how much can a Greek donkey devour?

No, of course, we didnt do it. As is particularly so with numerous vacation-born fictions, real life interfered.

But the bagel-donkey design never genuinely went away. It has been mentioned every time one of us needs an escape hatch. Well, we can always become sell bagels from a donkey in Greece, we say, and miraculously whatever pain we are experiencing dissipates.It has worked on every turned moment and bump in the road of life for almost 30 years now.

But yesterday, it genuinely get put to the test: Cindy lost her longtime racket as a newspaper page designer.

She was told that her agencies make was being outsourced and the number of staff places whittled down. At 57 and after virtually 25 years with her Texas-based newspaper, she had been consecrated is not simply with a exquisite head of white hair, but likewise with a salary commensurate with her experience.

Might as well have painted a target on your back, I announced. Her answer amazed me.

You know, she inaugurated, I am weirdly OK with this.

She has no other racket lined up, theres a mortgage fee due on the first of each month, and perhaps removed missed all the fibs Ive written about age discrimination in the employ process. AARP says that 2 out of 3 craftsmen between the senilities of 45 and 74 have appreciated or experiencedage discrimination at work, and job seekers over 35 cites it as a top handicapto getting hired. If you happen to work in information and communication technologies or recreation manufactures, your chances of experiencing age discrimination are even higher. Frankly, youre cold toast as far as Silicon Valley can be noted.

Her news rocked my most organization. The recession is over, isnt it? A chap who loves business and detests regulations and is going to offset America great again by creating jobs, places, places sits in the White House. But still, older workers can find themselves knocked to the curb.

Boomers, including me, werebeaten up bad by the Great Recessionand some of us still have open financial wraps. I lost my job at the Los Angeles Times at age 59 and I cant forget the sleepless lights that passed with the unemployment checks. Imanaged to pick up what remained of my dignityand move on and count myself amongst the luck ones who didnt “losing ones” homes.

What will happen to Cindy?

Its been an interesting ride now on to the following chapter! she posted on Facebook. It was the expletive notes that left me suspicious about the franknes of her names. This is Facebook, after all. So I tried again.

Really, how are you? I pressed.

I cant even explain it, she announced. Its place comfort … and place cheerfulnes over the adventure of detecting whats ahead.

That part I get. When I was unemployed, something else happened besides me shaking in my boots.With an fiscal firearm objected at my synagogue, I discovered just how creative I could be. Sometimes security has an evil twin and its mention is complacency.

So when I requested Cindy immediately, OK, but what the fuck is you do? her rebuttal didnt surprise me.

Sell bagels from a donkey in Santorini.

Thanks, Cindy, I needed to hear that. Now how did we figure united keep the paste cheese cold?

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