A shamelessly middle aged woman looks at her astonishing vanishing status in the world at large

By Laura Thompson

I don’t consider myself easily overlooked. I am, after all, six feet tall, and roughly 180 well distributed pounds. While this height isn’t as unusual as it used to be in a woman, it’s still significant height when compared to the general population.

I also am a charismatic person, or so I’ve repeatedly been told. When I walk into a room, you know someone’s there.

Given this, why do I suddenly feel invisible when I’m walking through a store, waiting in a line or trying to get my waiters attention?

Don’t get me wrong. I’m a realist and know that while I ‘m still a good looking woman, the old gray mare ain’t what she used to be. I don’t bemoan the lack of sexually-driven attention I used to draw. I actually welcome its absence, after a long day in the sun. It’s refreshing not to be fending off every Tom, Dick, and Harry with a little romance on their minds.

However, I still would like the normal attention and respect any customer should get.

I’m in my bank. Waiting patiently — too patiently — for the bank teller to notice me standing in place, while she gossips with her co-worker. She suddenly snaps to attention when a handsome male enters the line behind me. I get it. It’s OK to let the old white woman wait, but not the good-looking man behind her. From her forced smile to her curt responses, I’m clear she’s just getting me out the way so she can wait on the customer behind me.

I’m in a big-box department store, waiting in line to return an item. The next available customer service clerk looks right at me — I am not making this up — and turning to two young men who have just arrived, asks them, “Can I help you?”

I’m grocery shopping, and the store is filled with younger women pushing fully loaded shopping carts around. Around everything but me. They cheerfully — and repeatedly — ram their shopping carts into me, over me, at me. I’m suddenly walking through a hazardous bumper car course. They don’t apologize. They don’t seem to even see me. Given their youthfulness, I find this hard to comprehend.

Is Generation Next suffering from mass myopia?

In the same grocery store, the male cashier barely glances at me, and gives me less than the time of the day. By the book, and barely, is his attitude. His eyes never meet mine, and his attention is already fixed on the next customer.

I’m in a restaurant. I need an additional condiment. I shall die and go to diners’ hell before I successfully attract the attention of my waiter. I sigh, and consign myself to a less than perfect meal.

’ve somehow become invisible.

I don’t know all the whys and wherefores pertinent to my sudden invisibility. I can play analyst at large, and surmise that it has to do with my aging. I’m older, and therefore unimportant. I have reached my middle years, and now may be ignored or completely overlooked.

After all, no one expects me to complain about it.

I have, over the years, heard similar complaints from older friends. Experiencing it first hand is still a real wake up call. Common courtesy and good business practices suggest this is not a smart course of action for anyone wanting my dollars. And I say, from here on out, ignore me at your peril.

I can’t speak for all women my age, and that won’t stop me from trying. I’ve had enough! My pockets are still deep, and my spending habits matter. If my bank can’t hire tellers who see me—regardless of my age or gender—then I’m taking my business elsewhere. If the big box retailer can’t teach the basics of customer service to its clerks, then I can spend my healthy green at yet another. I will never again spend my time nor money in that restaurant where I went invisible. I will speak up, to all those shopping mama’s intent on crushing me with their carts.

I will not be invisible.

I will insist on my place in line. I will speak up when I get less than good customer service. I will not take it anymore—and quite frankly, I wish you wouldn’t either.

I have used this statistic before, and I give it to you again. There are 77 million of us out there, gradually growing older. If we got together on this one, we could turn it around, and quickly. There’s power in unity; if every older person refused to become invisible, we wouldn’t. It’s that old Boomer magic the numbers, people, the sheer magnitude of our numbers.

So stand with me on this one.

Speak up the next time the world treats you as if you don’t matter, as if you’ve become invisible. Don’t let yourself be cut off in line. Don’t wait because someone else thinks you can. Insist on the service you used to get, and still deserve. Make it clear to businesses, and their employees, that money is an equal opportunity tool—and you’ll spend yours where you get the most respect and best service. Businesses where you matter, where you are still seen.

Power to the people! Even to the older ones. No, let me revise that. Especially to the older ones.

Laura Thompson is an occasional contributor to 55PLUS. She’s in her 50s.