I Refuse to Call Myself “Seasoned”
Too many bright and gifted professionals worry about their age when it comes to their jobs, their stability, and any risks they’re willing to take in their last decades. I read about this feeling in the business media and hear it sometimes when helping clients with their bios, resumes, and LinkedIn profiles — especially when seeking restless or urgent career change. I’m going the other way, especially when it comes to “resume speak” and any narrative on my work and offerings.
I refuse to call myself “seasoned” for the same reasons I wince at words like “tenured,” “mature,” or, “experienced” when describing me and my career — which spans three decades — with lots of experiences, adventures, and reinventions along the way.
Words like “seasoned” sound (to my ear) like I’m apologizing for my years, concealing the decades passed, or, feeling ashamed that I know a lot. (How could I not learn from so many awe-inspiring experiences?)
The need to apologize or hide does not resonate. I’m not apologetic. I’m not ashamed. I’m proud of the bumpy starts I’ve prevailed over, and who I’ve become from changing careers and industries. Most recently, I left academia to re-train and re-position as a communications coach. Give me another decade, and I may reinvent again.
Small clarification here: I don’t deny younger professionals may possess and gain rich insights, too. I’ve coached, reported on, and taught brilliant young professionals. In my 20s, I felt reasonably wise and savvy, because I’d lived and worked in three continents at that point in time, and I did it solo.
But how I feel now, in my early 50s, differs. I question and doubt myself less. I know myself more. I’m clearer on what I’m good at and awful at. I know my values and what makes me happy. I make better decisions than before. I feel truly loved (by my family I’ve built and by me.) And I’ve never been as strong as I am now at self-care and self-advocacy. In fact, the happiness and confidence I feel today matches what I felt as a young girl, before I based my sense of worth on what others thought of me. This shift has come with age.
I’ve a lot to say on age, wisdom, and career. But let’s circle back to the language piece and why we must rise up together to reject words like “seasoned.” These terms buy in to a restrictive narrative about what maturity through years means.
Through an optimistic lens, “seasoned” perhaps ties to the seasons passing, and time passing. And yet, “seasoned” also ties to pork chops and steaks, seasoned potatoes, etc. The seasoning brings flavor to these foods. And yet in conventional resume speak, “seasoned” doesn’t bring flavor nor enhance the work story. It signals aged 45+ especially when paired with “professional.” Merriam Webster’s calling “seasoned” in these moments a transitive verb where we’re making ourselves fit by experience. “A seasoned veteran” who has earned their tenure by experience, is their example.
The folly of the dictionary’s definition here doesn’t just tie to the euphenism part; it also stays dangerously vague. Additionally, I’ve serious questions: At which age do we become seasoned? 50 and up or 40? Are men seasoned at the same time as women? Do men season too or women only? Do certain professions remain immune, like politics? And if fame comes with our age, do we gain the rights to reject “seasoned” for eternity? I don’t recall Oprah gaining “seasoned” as a descriptor nor Indra Nooyi (two of my she-roes.) If so, what can we learn here?
One alternative may include stating the years of experience then what those years bring our clients and/or those we serve. For instance, “Fintech analyst with 25+ years’ experience helping global companies boost profits, reduce risks, bringing annual savings of $1b annually, wherever she serves.”
Or, how about this? Storyteller, coach, and trainer who’s spent 30-years across three different industries helping others find their voice and courage through replacing corporate speak with language from the heart. Trusted as the writing and presentation coach for foreign-born executives at the biggest tech, energy, and finance firms across the globe.
Finally, using data can indicate our lengthy experience while empowering us and our audiences. The bio of a Harvard psychologist I follow, Dr. Cortney S. Warren, includes her board certification, the book and nearly 50-peer reviewed journal articles she’s authored, and the 75+ presentations on the psychology of relationships she’s delivered. The language’s clear, concise, but also comfortable and proud with all she’s done. Reading her bio, I know she’s accomplished.
Ageism and age feel like touchy subjects, at least in our culture, and yet staying silent about what we sense and witness feels risky. Many friends and coachees refer to ageism as an “invisible threat” to their livelihoods and mental wellbeing. The World Health Organization defines ageism as “the stereotyping, prejudice and discrimination against people on the basis of their age,” and my coaching confirms this does indeed exist.
But language becomes one thing we can control when it comes to how we speak about our work and how we feel about ourselves, too. I think we’ve all got work here. Me, too. As a specialist coach in the written and spoken word, I ask that we play, experiment, and spark new ways to communicate our work and years. Onwards and upwards!
Note to any kind readers, if you’d like an audio version, you’ll hear my reading of this essay in this week’s Sage Sayers podcast.
Debbi Gardiner McCullough coaches and trains immigrant leaders to become more confident, concise, and mentally fit communicators. From Wisconsin, she owns and runs Hanging Rock Coaching and coaches worldwide with BetterUp.