Nice to know there’s an option out there

For years, I would kiddingly tell friends that, if needs be, I could always go back to waitressing.

But that’s not quite true.

It would be too hard on the back, too hard on the feet. Plus my tolerance for putting up with cooks, managers, bartenders and, oh yeah, customers would certainly have declined over the years.

So waitressing’s out, even though I have now achieved the age and heft that would make me right at home at Durgin-Park (if, in fact, they still specialize in old bags).

Then I think, hey, I could always get a job working as an admin – maybe at one of the local colleges or universities: one I could walk to. What a prize I would be for the professor or dean who lucked into having me as their admin: literate, numerate. I could edit their papers and figure out their budgets, slick up their Powerpoints and compose their emails.

But they’d probably prefer someone less skilled but chirpier.

Other possibilities?

Well, I couldn’t keep a straight face long enough to be a Walmart greeter.

Maybe I could be a receptionist. A dog walker. An Uber driver – days only, if I had a car. Ticket taker at a museum. I’m sure that if I were in need of a job, even at my advanced and advancing age, there’d be a few options out there.

When I’ve thought about looking for employment – which, in truth, I’m fortunate not to have to think seriously about – I’ve never actually considered becoming a fast food worker.

All the downside of being a waitress without the upside of tips.

But at least they’re hiring old geezers.

Restaurants are recruiting in senior centers and churches. They’re placing want ads on the website of AARP, an advocacy group for Americans over 50. Recruiters say older workers have soft skills—a friendly demeanor, punctuality—that their younger cohorts sometimes lack.

Two powerful trends are at work: a labor shortage amid the tightest job market in almost five decades, and the propensity for longer-living Americans to keep working—even part-time—to supplement often-meager retirement savings. Between 2014 and 2024, the number of working Americans aged 65 to 74 is expected to grow 4.5 percent, while those aged 16 to 24 is expected to shrink 1.4 percent, according to the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics.(Source: Bloomberg)

McDonald’s, in fact, “plans to make senior citizens one hiring focus in the coming year.”

In addition to our “friendly demeanor” and “punctuality”, we’re good for something else: no one has to figure out career progression for us; no recruiter needs to ask “where do you see yourself in five years” of someone whose answer is “still upright, I hope.”

I don’t think I could hack fast food.

All that standing on your feet is pretty exhausting. Some days, when I come off of a volunteer shift at St. Francis House, I’m just beat. And that’s true whether it’s prepping food or dishing it out in the kitchen, sorting clothing donations or acting as the personal “shopper” for our guests, or signing folks up for showers and handing out towels and toothbrushes. Especially when it’s a long – four hour – shift.

A few years ago, when I first began volunteering, I signed up for six-hour stints in the kitchen. I did this over Christmas break, when they were in some need of volunteers to fill in for the college kids who’d gone home. Fortunately, I was smart enough not to sign up for back-to-back days. But after that first six-hour shift, I almost had to crawl home, a quarter-mile or so across the Boston Common.

By the time I arrived at my doorstep, I was so exhausted that I couldn’t decide what to do first: throw myself in the shower, throw my self into bed, or throw my smelly clothing into the washing machine.

This would be, I imagine, the daily experience working in fast food. And I’m plenty strong and healthy.

Other than the polyester, I suppose I’d get used to it, especially if I needed the money.

But when I think about jobs for us elders, I really hate to think about anyone having to work at McDonald’s. Oh, we’re living longer, and a lot of folks don’t have much by way of retirement reserves. And work is work, and money is money. So on my biennial trips to McD’s, I’ll be on the lookout for some fellow Boomer salting my fries. I will be kind. I will be patient. I will be friendly. And I just hope I never recognize anyone I know handing me my Big Mac.