#698
Jacqueline Graf at Target Guest advocate (among other jobs) Age: 80 Hired: 1970 Courtersy: WSJ. Hello, dear readers from across the globe. As a 62-year-old wanderer through life's winding paths—now settled in the quiet rhythms of semi-retirement—I often find my mind drifting to "random thoughts." These are the unpolished gems that surface during evening walks or late-night scrolls: reflections on how the world has shifted beneath our feet. Today, I'll share two that have been bubbling up lately. The first is a nostalgic comparison of work life in the 1960s versus our hyper-connected 2020s. The second? A lament on fake news, that modern plague eroding our shared trust. Pull up a chair; let's unpack them together.
Work Then and Now: From Handshakes to Hustle Culture
It started with a Wall Street Journal essay I stumbled upon recently—a collection of stories from eight retirees in their 60s, 70s, and even 80s. These folks, hailing from America's heartland and beyond, spanned careers in manufacturing, sales, tech tinkering, and clerical roles. Reading their tales felt like flipping through a family album from a bygone era. For those in their 60s and 70s, the echoes rang true to my own journey: the grind of long hours, the camaraderie of shared lunches, the quiet satisfaction of a job well done. But the octogenarians? Their world seemed almost mythical—looser, warmer, less scripted.
What struck me most was the common thread weaving through their narratives: simplicity in entry, depth in relationships. Landing a job back then? No Herculean resume battles or LinkedIn algorithms to conquer. If you showed up willing to adapt—rolling up your sleeves for whatever task fell your way—the door cracked open. Connections were king, of course; a neighbor's nod or a family friend's introduction often sealed the deal. No ghosting from HR ghosts—just a firm handshake and a "Let's see what you can do."
Mentorship flowed naturally, too. Bosses didn't delegate growth; they invested in it. They'd pull you aside after a meeting, not with a curt email, but over coffee, coaching you on the nuances: how to read a client's unspoken cues, refine your pitch, or troubleshoot a stubborn machine. Loyalty wasn't a buzzword; it was the air you breathed. Employees trusted employers to be fair—raises came with whispers of appreciation, not endless negotiations. My own first formal performance review? It arrived in 2000, a full 15 years into my career, complete with metrics and timelines that felt as alien as a spreadsheet to a poet.
Failure, ah, that was another gentle giant. It was expected, even embraced—as long as you learned from it swiftly. One misstep per project, and you'd dust off with a wry smile and a story for the water cooler. Work-life balance? It wasn't a TED Talk topic; it was baked in. I remember my early days in a bustling office, where the sun dipped below the horizon unseen because we were too immersed in the flow elsewhere. No guilt, no FOMO—just the day's end signaling homeward bound.
Fast-forward 25 years, and the script has flipped for the worse. Technology, that double-edged sword, promised efficiency but delivered isolation. Emails replace conversations; Slack pings fracture focus into a thousand shards. We've become our own harshest critics, doom-scrolling through highlight reels on Instagram, measuring our ordinary against others' curated peaks. Mental peace? A rare bird, chased away by the "99 gold coins syndrome"—that restless itch to hunt a mythical 100th, blind to the fortune already clutched. Burnout isn't a badge; it's an epidemic. Remote work blurred boundaries, turning living rooms into pressure cookers. And job security? A relic, swapped for gig-economy roulette.
Will it swing back? I'm skeptical. The genie's out—AI whispering efficiencies, economies demanding perpetual motion. Yet, in quieter moments, I wonder if we might reclaim a sliver of that old warmth: deliberate connections over digital noise, grace for stumbles, trust rebuilt one conversation at a time. Until then, I'll cherish those sunset-less memories as quiet rebellions against the rush.
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Fake News: When Gold Standards Tarnish
Shifting gears to something sharper: fake news, that insidious fog descending on our information diet. It reared its head again with the BBC—yes, the BBC, once the North Star of global journalism. Two decades ago, it was my lifeline during India's turbulent '70s. I recall tuning in, heart pounding, to learn of Indira Gandhi's shocking 1977 election defeat a full seven hours before the wires buzzed in Delhi. Her assassination in 1984? Confirmed five hours early, a whisper from London cutting through the chaos. Reliable, impartial, a beacon amid bias.
How the mighty have fallen. Hijacked by what feels like a cocktail of woke ideology and left-leaning fervor—symptoms, sadly, rippling across Europe amid broader cultural shifts—the BBC has lost its moorings. The latest scandal? A documentary twisting Donald Trump's January 6, 2021, speech by splicing sentences uttered 50 minutes apart. The result? A deliberate distortion, painting peaceful pleas as incitements to riot. The Telegraph blew the lid off it, forcing resignations from the CEO and chief news editor. Justice, in a tweet-sized victory.
I haven't watched a BBC broadcast—news or otherwise—in over a decade. CNN, MSNBC, the lot: they've joined the chorus of eroded trust. It's a sorry spectacle, this race to the bottom where clicks trump context, agendas eclipse accuracy. Oh, I don't even want to mention Indian MSM and Print, they are scums, not worth even mentioning here. Trump, for all his bombast, nailed it years ago: mainstream media as "fake news." Not hyperbole, but a weary truth born of repeated betrayals. In our borderless world, where a doctored clip can spark riots from Mumbai to Manhattan, the stakes are cosmic. Disinformation doesn't just mislead; it fractures societies, fueling division like dry tinder.
So, how do we navigate? Diversify your sources, cross-check relentlessly, and lean on that gut-honed skepticism from decades of headlines. Me? I stick to a handful of independents, savoring the rare unvarnished gem. It's exhausting, but essential—like sifting gold from silt.
Here is a tweet from die hard Trump Supporter, pointing out facts. (Would any one dare to do so in India?? hahahah Jokers!).
There you have it: two random thoughts from a retiree's rumination. Work's evolution reminds us that progress isn't always forward—sometimes it's a circle, yearning for the human core we left behind. Fake news warns that truth, once a given, now demands vigilant guardianship. In this noisy 2020s tapestry, may we weave threads of reflection and resilience. What's stirring in your mind lately? Drop a comment; let's keep the conversation alive.
Until next time, stay curious, stay kind.
Karthik
11/11/2025. 9am.
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