Old Men

When I started at AT&T in 1989 at twenty-five, there was a crew of old men among the population no one would mess with. They were getting short in their tours (i.e., about to retire after 35 years), so there was an unwritten rule to leave them alone. What a mistake that was.

I should have known better, too: by that time, I’d met enough of the seasoned people (both men and women) to realize they usually had the best information. And when I say “best information,” I mean, perspective. There were always alternate sources for the data, but when it came to understanding it, to reacting to it (or not), to prioritizing it amongst the other stuff available, well, there was no comparison. Most people love to swim in data – the more the better – but it takes a real pro to throw away the swimming pool of distraction for the essential teaspoon of meaning.

It’s a little too easy to become task oriented, especially when ToDos are flying at you like Tie-Fighters in Star Wars. And those older workers seem to move at a slower speed, so you’ll need to slow down yourself to do it. It always looks like they stopped juggling years before and learned the art of stillness. Now that I’m getting older, I have new appreciation for that skill and seek that wisdom every chance I get. From what I’ve learned, it’s not about looking busy, and is as often about knowing what not to do, and when to do nothing. That’s a little hard to do when your cup feels like it’s overflowing, and your boss might not understand. That’s another useful skill – learning how to manage your boss to see the essential, too. Good luck with that: often as not they’re also stuck checking things off while leaving the essential undone.

So perhaps this note is for the young still among us: stop the slalom around the old pylons in your midst and engage them. The old war stories are *actually* helpful and contain wisdom if you look for it. These stories are, after all, the distilled experience that has been remembered, and remembered for a reason. If they’re old enough to have survived in your environment, they probably know something. And they’ll appreciate your attention because they just might have learned this exact lesson earlier than you did, when they were young. They’d like to pay it back if given the chance. They are the gulches where the gold of experience has collected and concentrated. You may just find a friend behind those old eyes willing to make your way easier and richer.

Case in point: the picture above is of an "old" guy. I happen to know him, and he's likely to kill me once he sees his picture here. And that thing in the picture kissing his cheek is a sea lion. You might walk past him on the street and never think twice about it. Only he happens to be a PhD. in math, and a computer security expert, and probably the most interesting guy I know. I was lucky enough to meet him in 1987 when I was doing some computer science at UT San Antonio. We've been friends ever since, which is more years than I care to count at this point. In fact, he's the basis for the main character in my novel, CH 19: The Math Idiot, Neal Wagner. That's actually his name. And he wrote a really cool book recently called WWW The End of Time. Anyway, the point is, I never would have known any of this, or enjoyed his friendship, or learned all the things I have from him had I been too busy to pay attention to an old guy. And yes, even then, he was an old guy to me.

I know what you're thinking: this is all incredibly obvious. Sometimes I have trouble knowing the difference between the profound and the obvious, so perhaps it is. Just remember that, especially if you're young and happen to be reading this to avoid doing that TPS report (yes, an Office Space allusion). That old lunch lady may be on her 3rd career, and just waiting for you to say "Hello in there" (and yes, that's a John Prine allusion). Listen to that song. It's way better than this essay and might just get you to say OK, and do it.