Tony was a systems analyst and programmer. For many years, he’d worked for a large insurance company in London. He’d spent all his working life there, in fact, seeing their IT systems grow from simple Cobol-based accounting systems to their current sophisticated distributed architecture. He’d grown to become a typical repository of IT knowledge, but because he was, eventually, the only one who understood the legacy systems which still powered the heart of the commercial activities, he became indispensable here and was never given much of an opportunity to get first-hand experience of the latest technologies. He was particularly interested in J2EE and EJBs. Longingly, he pored through the J2EE and Java manuals, surreptitiously creating java-based applications when nobody was looking, whilst tending the aging accounting systems. Youngsters joined the department knowing only the Java world; whilst Tony understood the breadth of the corporate IT activities, and was relied on to provide the skills to maintain the production systems. The interesting jobs went to others. Tony occasionally shrugged regretfully, but pressed on, with the consolation that he was useful to the enterprise.

Then, Tony’s mother got sick. There was nobody else to look after her. Tony asked for a sabbatical so he could be her carer, but even after decades of service, the company regretfully refused, on the reasoning that everybody else would ask for one too. He therefore resigned.

When his mother died, he decided he’d get a proper training in J2EE. He found a comprehensive course that guaranteed a job at the end of the training. The course was very easy for him, as he’s worked in IT all his life and had taken the trouble to keep up-to-date, and he sailed through with top marks. However, halfway through the course, the organisers drew him to one side and told him that, in his case, they would not be able to honour any guarantee of employment at the end of the course. Tony, being a placid chap, accepted this with some puzzlement. He assumed that, because the market required skills, and he had them, then he’d be OK.

Things weren’t OK. Armed with a certificate of competence in J2EE and java, a CV that glowed, fulsome references, and a track record of steady employment, he clocked up an enormous collection of failed applications. He was called for interview twice, but wasn’t chosen. Rather despairingly, he reapplied to his previous company, but they told him that the legacy systems were now gone and they had enough J2EE skills now.

Tony eventually realised that his effort was pointless and so he answered an advert for a salesman. It was a cut in salary, but Tony didn’t care. Surprisingly, his new employers were appreciative of his work, pleasant, and soon promoted him to a position of responsibility.

The organisers of his course were right: He was too old to be a programmer. It was not that his skills or knowledge had diminished, just that, culturally, we seem to expect software developers to be tewntysomething or thirtysomething males. Poor Tony was fiftysomething, Ah well, thought Tony, probably prejudice had worked in his favour in the past, so what is the point of grieving. For Tony, being a resilient and likeable person, things ended happily with a new career that got him out from the bowels of a corporate datacentre, blinking into the sunlight and fresh air, and a new career chatting to people and getting paid by an appreciative employer. It is, perhaps, the IT industry that is the loser by their many prejudices about recruitment.