For a storytelling show in 2018 hosted by producers of Generation Women, I represented my demographic by sharing this story aloud based on the evening's assigned theme "Out of My Comfort Zone."

INTERVIEW

Just being here tonight representing my age group is out of my comfort zone. I have been looking for full time work, and on my resume I like to keep age vague. I’m years away from Medicare. I am buying an apartment with my boyfriend in Brooklyn, not headed to Boca. This means finding steady consulting work, or landing a job with benefits.

I have already sold my suburban home and written the last tuition check. I’ve pared my closet packed with black coats from ten down to maybe four or so. And I've tossed more than a few vases to the curb.

But downsizing is not meant to describe my bank account, or my brain power. I intend to continue to be engaged in my work with an income steam flowing my way, regularly.

Recently, I was asked to do a Skype interview for a job I’d applied for heading media relations at a large New York City college, a position that, frankly, for most of the last 20 years, would have reported to me.

Deep breath. Stay Zen. I remind myself I no longer care about that. Against my feminist instincts, along with the required age charade, I don’t even ask about the money.

My bigger concern is that other applicants may be 30. My mission is to prove that I too am a communicator who is somehow able to understand that enigmatic, complex and mystical language of the deep state -- social media.

Well, don’t worry folks. I have a Snapcode. And I know how to use it.

Preparing to meet any recruiter you need background research. By this I mean internet trolling. First, is she a 20, 30 or 40 something? Kids or dogs? Does she have a Lab or a Shih Tzu? A Coonhound? Great news, common ground!

Am I talking to a foodie who photographs ramen bowls, neatly from above? I can work with that. Does she invest in her eyebrows...or Eileen Fisher?

On the morning of this interview, I set up my screen tableau. Just the curve of a modern chair behind me. Necklace – interesting, not chunky. One piece of art on my properly lit wall. Not too busy. Visual message: Modern. Cultured. Organized. Prepared!

I did have one other Skype interview this year. The recruiter kept her beefy pink velour bathrobe hung on an unmade bunk bed right in my sight line. The whole time I talked to her, I could not stop wondering...would you have straightened up the room...for a guy?

For my college meeting, I’m ready. As Skype opens, a face comes into focus. Are we at the interviewer’s kitchen table? Nope. It’s a desk. In her office! She’s a Susan, and 50-something.

Her dyed dark hair fills the screen as she looks awkwardly down into her computer. Zero effort on the eyebrows. Thank you whitepages.com! My go-to site for ball park age data has not let me down. We are contemporaries, know folks in common. Off to a good start.

I don’t know why I considered Susan’s age a benefit. Frankly, my best interviews this year were with 26-year-olds running a coding boot-camp. Or so I’d thought at the time.

Susan proceeds to plod through each of the jobs and bullet points on my resume like it’s a first read. “Why did you leave the Wall Street Journal? Why did you leave Mount Sinai? And you were at that other hospital...let’s see…nine years? Oh, at one time you were also a secretary? Press secretary. Gotcha. Government."

This was HR 101. Circa 1991. Nothing to reveal my industry knowledge or show a thought process. Then...

Susan catches me off guard.

“If you were to describe yourself in just ONE word, what would it be?” Oh No. Seriously? Are we going this route? So this must be Susan’s longtime ace in the hole.

My mind quickly splits into parallel tracks. One races to answer in the moment – a word, a word, c'mon, a word. At the same time, my thoughts speed way ahead. Should I come up with me as a vegetable ...just in case?

Am I just another cynical turnip, rolling from the muddy press into dirty PR? Can I make the case that I am a carrot? Crisp, bright. Or what about resourceful and flexible ... a tomato, fruit and veggie! Local or hothouse.

I stop to think.

Usually this is a good interview strategy. But as soon as my single word answer leaves my lips, I want to suck it right back in:

"Energetic!"

It hovers out there just over my head in one of those white comic strip bubbles, with black letters. Kapow! I see it in a Lichtenstein lithograph: Oh Brad, darling, you did not mean to say that, did you?

Can I somehow hit delete, wipe my word cloud off a digital white board lingering in my head?

"Energetic"? Susan repeats my word as a question; she cannot even hide her disbelief. And amusement.

Epic fail. NOT awesome. I sound like I am selling vitamin supplements.
This is a chance to market me. Not to reveal I like to DVR
Jeopardy.

"Energetic…!"

This time it comes out of Susan’s mouth as a kind of laugh and snicker. It can only be described as a full-on chortle. Old word. Current situation.

I want to slip out of my carefully curated screen and slink under the barstool legs set at the perfect height for my deliberate eye-level laptop staging.
I begin my fast-talking backpedal. “I don’t mean energetic like fitness, running, or dashing off to my exercise class.” I struggle to change the subject (but make sure first to mention The Badass Academy, where I take Spin).

"I mean as in animated, enthusiastic". My hands are slashing across my perfect little well-assembled visual. "High energy!" That was the two-word phrase I would have used had I not been so worried about demonstrating, decades into my career, that I can follow directions in a job interview.

Susan’s line of questioning improves with a part-two, a softball. “Describe a time when that quality helped you at work?” Fair enough. This was my chance to talk about creative ideas, about story mining and pitching to the press, thriving on media deadlines, messaging in the moment and handling bad news for good companies.

I know I am a tad too gleeful for Susan as I mention serial killer nurses, Ebola, West Nile and malpractice. Then there's deranged stabbings, police shootings, mold and data privacy breaches -- the things that for me have represented a good day at the office -- in crisis PR.

I fill up the air space, grateful she didn’t say tell me about a time when being a carrot helped you at work?” Followed by "how did you measure that or what did success look like?”

My friends ask me, and not rhetorically, who needs this crap at this point in our lives? You’re scrambling to prove you are “a fit” for a job you are sure you can do well. You worry that on the outside you either no longer appear equipped and confident -- or seem too confident. On the inside you’re asking, does this person really assume I stopped learning at say, 40, and think a hashtag goes with ketchup and eggs? I’m no digital native. But let's go with digital colonizer--aggressively advancing on the territory. And I wasn't conscripted; I enlisted.

Well you know I didn’t get the college job. I learned who did, just a couple of weeks ago from The New York Times. In the wedding announcements, natch. She sounded great. She’s 39. We share two dozen LinkedIn connections. I loved her profile and will probably send her an invite. I didn’t even notice her eyebrows.

------

It seems like every generation does have one word, or two, that fits the zeitgeist of the moment.

Millennials...you know yours...Impact! Nice! Right now, at this point in the baby boomer life cycle, ours is supposed to be…Reinvention. Gosh, that’s a peppy word!

But like a wiggly puppy, it has an underbelly. A dark side. I am always open to something new. Here I stand, after all. First time for everything. I can claim a pretty decent track record for embracing change -- the kind I drive, and the kind that’s come whipping my way around a blind curve.

But I would like to pass muster, be chosen, for what I already am, who I am, and the talents and knowledge I have that will add perspective and value to a demanding task. As well as for the fact that I am always adding to that worthwhile base.

I am waiting to hear about one job I really want. It’s a 50-50 shot and still early in the process. The hiring manager is a guy who has known me professionally…for decades. He just sent me an encouraging email. “If we do proceed, Joan, “he wrote, “we think you have the experience, expertise -- and energy to fill the role.”

We’ll see. I’ll be bouncing off the walls till I find out.