Getting the Ageism Treatment

Let me tell you something I never thought I would say out loud:
I’m old enough now for ageism to apply to me.

Not “old-old.”
Not slowing down.
Not out of touch.
Just… old enough for employers to start squinting at my résumé, tilting their heads, and politely wondering, “Do you really still fit?”

For most of my career, I thought ageism was one of those things people exaggerated. A quiet myth. A whispered fear. Something that happened to “other people,” usually far older than me.

Then it happened to me.

And not in a catastrophic, dramatic way. Not in a way you could point to and say, “Ah, yes, discrimination.”
No.
It was quieter. Smarter. Polished.
Corporate ageism doesn’t yell; it politely nods while pushing you off the edge.

Let me walk you through it.

There was a period when I was actively job-hunting. Not because I lacked experience. Not because I wasn’t performing. I simply wanted a new chapter.

I applied for roles that matched my skills almost too perfectly. Roles where my background wasn’t just relevant, it was exactly what they claimed to be looking for. I could have done those jobs half-asleep, with one hand tied behind my back, while the office Wi-Fi went down.

And yet…

Rejection.
Rejection.
Rejection.

One or two? Fine.
Five? Maybe the timing was off.
But when I hit twenty-plus rejections, often from companies practically begging for “experienced leadership,” I stopped pretending it was a coincidence.

The emails were all eerily identical. So neat. So rehearsed. So thoughtful in tone, yet hollow in truth.

“Your background is impressive, but we’ve decided to move forward with candidates whose experience more closely aligns with our needs.”

Or this one, my personal favorite:

“We’re going in a different direction.”

Different direction, meaning what, exactly?

Because the job description said “minimum 10 years of experience,” and I had more than that.
Because they asked for strategic leadership, and I had lived and breathed it.
Because they claimed they wanted someone to mentor younger teams, and I had done that for years.

And yet, somehow, I wasn’t “aligned.”

That word became a red flag.

“Aligned with the team.”
“Aligned with our fast-paced culture.”
“Aligned with where the company is heading.”

Aligned.
As if my age bends the magnetic field.

Eventually, some recruiters got bolder. Or maybe just careless.

A few dropped lines like:

“We’re looking for someone more up-to-speed with the latest trends.”
Translation: We want someone younger.

“We want to build a younger, more energetic team.”
Translation: We want to replace your generation without saying it.

“We’re afraid you might not be able to keep up with our culture.”
Translation: Everyone here is under 30, and we don’t want to disrupt the aesthetic.

One even said, and this is not a joke:

“We worry you might get bored here.”

Bored?
You think after X number of years of impossible deadlines, crisis management, global shifts, layoffs, and leadership ego management that I would get bored?

The arrogance of that assumption stunned me.

But this is how modern ageism works.
It never uses the word “age.”
It uses smoke. Mirrors. Corporate niceties.
Enough to make you question your reality.

And for a moment, I did.

When enough doors close, you start asking yourself uncomfortable questions.

“Am I actually out of touch?”
“Has the world moved on without me?”
“Did I stay too long in my comfort zone?”
“Did I miss some invisible cutoff point where experience becomes a liability?”

This is the psychological cruelty of ageism.
It makes you blame yourself for a system that was never designed to treat older workers fairly.

Then the rational part of my brain kicked in.

I reminded myself:

• I had delivered results consistently for decades.

• I led teams through chaos without losing momentum.

• I mentored people who later became senior leaders.

• I stayed sharp, curious, adaptive.

• And I had the professional scars, the kind you can’t earn from TikTok tutorials or bootcamp certificates.

But in the eyes of some employers, none of that mattered.

They weren’t looking for experience.
They were looking for aesthetics.

And experience doesn’t look good on Instagram.

After enough emotional bruises, I made a decision.

I stopped asking,
“What’s wrong with me?”
and started asking,
“What’s wrong with a system that discards people with proven expertise?”

The more I looked around, the more obvious it became:

Companies that chase youth at the expense of experience are not “cutting-edge.”
They are shortsighted.

Research shows that multigenerational teams outperform single-age teams.
Age-diverse companies generate more innovation revenue.
Older workers improve decision-making, reduce turnover, and bring stability.

Yet many organizations still prefer “shiny” over “capable.” They make business decisions that don’t make sense at all.

I shifted my approach entirely.

I stopped trying to shrink myself to fit someone else’s idea of “young energy.”

I stopped trimming my experience to look less intimidating.

I stopped pretending I was the problem.

Instead, I built my own opportunities.
Collaborated with people who valued maturity.
Created work that didn’t require permission from biased gatekeepers.
Things are still a work in progress, and I have a lot of learning and understanding as I unravel how ageism will forever change my career trajectory moving forward.

I’m not telling you this for sympathy.
I’m telling you because ageism is becoming the last socially acceptable form of workplace discrimination.

People whisper it behind closed doors.
They joke about it in Slack channels.
They hide it behind “culture fit,” “energy,” and “digital-first mindset.”

But here’s the brutal truth:

Age isn’t the problem.
Our workplaces are.

And until companies recognize the value of multigenerational intelligence, they will continue to lose the people who hold the wisdom, resilience, and strategic depth needed to navigate the future.

I lived it.
I felt it.
And I refuse to pretend it’s not real.

Check out my latest post about this subject here: https://www.johnpaulcanonigo.com/2025/11/the-brutal-truth-how-employers-mask.html