Grandmas

Once upon a time there were two little girls called Rosa and Cinnamon. One day, while their grandma was taking them to her house for a sleep over, she overheard the older one, Rosa, telling her littler sister in a very matter-of-fact way:

“We’re going to Grandma’s because she lives all alone and she hasn’t anyone to talk to except a cat”.

This alarmed Grandma who was unable to reply as she was busy driving her little silver car in heavy traffic.  She thought of her grand daughter’s statement which while true, made her sound like she was a sad, lonely old lady.

Grandma actually had a very full life with good friends, activities like Tango dancing, (well until her right knee needed an operation), and the odd silver-haired handsome prince who would stay over, so very rarely did she feel lonely.  It was true that she did live with a strange black and white cat known as Paco with whom she would hold whole conversations that no one else really understood.  She would say something and Paco would reply.  This sometimes went on for quite a while and she didn’t think it anything strange.  She knew people commented on this about her but this didn't worry her.

Grandma felt that overall grandmothers got bad press, or rather were frequently misrepresented. Whenever there was a grandmother in a storybook she was shown as a plump old lady with her white hair in a bun and an apron donned over her bosom and pulling a tray of cookies out of the oven or sitting in a big old fashioned chair knitting.  Spectacles were always perched on the end of her nose. The picture book Grandma was kindly and never swore whereas Grandma sometimes said four letter words when no one was around, though never in front of Rosa and Cinnamon.  It was like believing that little girls were made of “sugar and spice and all things nice” and boys were made of “frogs and snails and puppy dog’s tails”. It simply wasn’t true picture of how children were just as the picture books weren’t true about the grandmas she knew either.

For example her princess-pretty grand-daughter Rosa with her flaxen plaits most definitely was sugar, whereas Cinnamon, (the younger one), with her mussed-up golden brown hair along with a look of mischief in her dark eyes was all spice with “puppy dogs tails” - thrown in for good measure.

Grandma liked be glamorous yet had a leather biker jacket she liked to wear now and then along with dangly earings - mostly because it made her feel younger.  She had a job of sorts.  Her hair colour varied but it was never grey.  She exercised daily to keep her figure trim and used all sorts of magic potions on her face to keep the grandma-like wrinkles at bay.  She enjoyed listening to the radio especially current affairs on BBC.  When she could afford it she went to the opera or ballet in her best frock but now and then she broke out and danced to Bruce Springstein or raved to Led Zeppelin like there was no tomorrow.  Rosa and Cinnamon liked it when Grandma danced and they would join in and all rave together.

Grandma worked hard at not conforming to a stereotype that was, she believed, a relic of a former age.  Just a few years ago before she actually became a Grandma she went off to South America to live in the Andes.  Most people thought it was an exciting adventure for her, which it was but what really prompted her to go was a mid-life crisis.  With no partner, no grandchildren and her youth receding behind her, she was secretly disgruntled about being at this stage of her life with nothing to look forward to.

Or so she thought until she returned from the Land of the Incas and grand children came along and then she was disappointed at the world at large for holding out on her for so long. How wonderful grandchildren really were, especially her own Rosa and Cinnamon!

And she knew that out there other grandmas who were like her.  Grandmas who had done all sorts of things in their lifetimes like working hard in low paid jobs to support their families, writing novels, lobbying for political change, running corporations, canoeing up tributaries of the Amazon along with the grandmas who baked cookies, knitted and held long meaningful conversations with their cats.

Grandmas, it seems, come in all shapes and sizes with a variety of hair colours, yet what they all have in common is that they love their grand children very, very much.


* The name of the cat has been changed for reasons of confidentiality

Diary Management

Last year I missed out on a position I'd applied for with a well known corporate. Yes, I was punching below my belt but I liked the idea of a front-line position with harbour views and having been in this exact role before, the hours allowed for work/work balance I sought. A week or so later I got a call from this organisation saying I had missed on on the job but would I like feedback? Sure, I agreed, although with hindsight I might have been better not to put myself up for this as I had just stepped out of the Coroners' Court after a grueling first day of the inquest into my younger brother's death three years before. However Ms Personnel Manager was not to know this and I was bluntly told by her that I had missed out because I didn't have the skills of “Diary Management” .

Later that same week I was talking with a friend who incidentally manages much of her high profile partner's life with grace and aplomb. She told me she had just been turned down for a position for the very same reason.

What was this “Diary Management”, this holy of holies we asked each other? How had we reached this point with abundant life and work experience behind us, yet had never been initiated?

For some days, I fumed over probable replies to Ms Smug-Under-Thirty-HR Manager.

Dear Ms____

It came as a surprise to me that I was turned down for this position because I lacked the required skills in DM.
(Honey,you sure kept this card up your sleeve for this was never mentioned at the interview).

This has prompted me to develop a new program for Microsoft Office, requiring the user to have a microchip inserted into their brain. It converts all the parenting and life experience outlined below into transferable skills required for Diary Management. Incidentally you can download an app to your smart phone.

• Working full time in a deadline driven job as a sole parent to three young children
• When above mentioned children were older, working in same deadline driven environment incorporating children's after-school activities into my after work hours
• Managing to get away Boxing Day for annual family holiday after working long hours getting two publications to print, the lawns mowed, car and roof rack packed with camping gear, all three children accounted for and the dog not locked in the house.
• Being a language a teacher, both here and overseas, who was expected to chew through the curriculum by end of the term with measurable learning outcomes for fee paying students.

P.S. However in my mind I still hear you ask "What has all this got to do with Diary Management? " Very little perhaps but it has a lot to do with AGEISM and ATTITUDE to mature people applying for jobs. Shame on you AMP.

Yours etc...