Old, Bold, and Bald: Owning Every Inch of Who We Are

 There’s a certain power that comes with age. It doesn’t whisper—it roars. You stop caring about the nonsense. You laugh louder, live slower (on purpose), and carry a quiet confidence that doesn’t need to be announced. And if you're like me—Old, Bold, and Bald—you wear it like a badge of honor.

The "Old" Part

Let’s get this straight: “old” isn’t a four-letter word. It’s a trophy. Every wrinkle? A roadmap of stories told, jokes cracked, and lessons earned the hard way. Sure, the knees might creak and the memory might forget why you walked into the kitchen—but the soul? The soul’s never been sharper.

Being old means you’ve seen things. Lived through change. You’ve ridden the highs and lows of life’s rollercoaster without throwing up (too much). You've learned to stop sweating the small stuff—because experience teaches you that most of it is small stuff.

The "Bold" Part

Boldness isn’t just for the young. In fact, boldness belongs to those of us who’ve already weathered a few storms. It's not reckless—it's refined. It’s standing up when it would be easier to sit down. It’s telling the truth, even if it shakes the room. It’s dancing at weddings even when your back is screaming “please don’t.”

Bold is wearing what you want, saying what you mean, and doing what you love—whether or not the world approves.

The "Bald" Part

Let’s address the shiny dome in the room. Baldness? It’s liberation. No more overpriced shampoos, no combs, no drama. And while some people chase their disappearing hairline like it's a runaway train, others of us embrace the chrome dome.

Bald is beautiful. It’s aerodynamic. It’s sleek. And best of all—it’s real. No hiding. No pretending. It says, “This is me. Take it or leave it.”

Final Thoughts

Old, Bold, and Bald isn’t a state of decline—it’s a stage of arrival. It’s where wisdom meets courage and says, “Let’s do this.” It’s where we stop trying to be someone else and finally become fully ourselves.

So here’s to all of us who’ve earned our stripes, scars, and shiny heads. We’re not fading away—we’re turning up the volume.

Still here. Still standing. Still laughing.

Still Old, Bold, and Bald—and loving it.

Old, Bold, and Bald: The First Week of Freedom

 One week. Seven days. 168 hours.

It’s been a week since I stepped away from my Just Over Broke (JOB), and honestly? It feels more like a vacation than a transition. No deadlines breathing down my neck. No alarm forcing me to shuffle into the daily grind. Just the wide-open space of possibility—and the strange realization that I had to check a calendar just to remember what day it is.

There’s still gas in the tank. I’m not done. Not even close. This isn’t retirement; it’s recalibration. The search isn’t for any opportunity—it’s for the right one. Something that matches experience with ambition, that respects the road already traveled while offering a new destination worth driving toward.

This week was about unwinding. Next week? It’s about refining. Because when you’re old enough to know better, bold enough to take a leap, and bald enough to own it, there’s no settling for less than what fuels the fire.

#OldBoldAndBald #NewBeginnings #MoreThanJustOverBroke #StillRolling

Last Day on the Hamster Wheel – A Grumpy Farewell from the Bold, the Bald, and the Burned Out

Well, that's it. Stick a fork in me. After years of dragging my sorry, balding carcass through meetings, outages, false promises, and soul-numbing IM threads, 05/16/2025 was my last day at work. And no, there wasn't a cake. Not even a dry, store-brand donut. Just a farewell from the few that mattered and radio silence from the ones that should’ve.

Let me tell you how it went down, because this grumpy old man isn’t going quietly.

First off—saying goodbye to the team was brutal. Not because I’m sentimental (okay, maybe a little), but because these are the folks who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with me during some real messy times. We kept things running through constant chaos. Daily page outs, duct-taping systems just to keep the damn lights on. And that pain—we shared it. One teammate took their own life during those dark times. That kind of grief doesn’t fade. So yeah, I sent out a group message, and three personal notes to the long-haulers who were in the trenches with me. They earned that respect.

And then there's leadership—or should I say, lack thereof. No parade, no “hey, why are you leaving?” Not a peep from my so-called leadership peers. Except for one guy I’ve known over six years. He actually reached out like a human being. Everyone else? Crickets. Heck, even my director ghosted the last morning huddle. Left early before it was his turn to speak. That’s right—bailed on my last meeting with the team. Real classy, JERK.

And don’t get me started on the CIO. Tuesday meeting, he’s all “Sorry I didn’t connect sooner. I’ll reach out later in the week.” Did he? Of course not. Maybe he lost my number. Or his spine.

But amid all this bureaucratic brilliance, one old director of mine (a rare breed of honest leadership) told me what I needed to hear: You did the right thing. Walking away was about my health—mental and physical—and that place was never going to change. And let’s face it, he’s right. You don’t fix a rusted-out ship by repainting the deck chairs.

So what now?

I’ve got a third interview with a new org next week. We'll see where that goes. I’m not holding my breath, but I’ll show up like I always have—bold, bald, and still too stubborn to quit.

Retirement? Not yet. But liberation? Damn right.

Stay grumpy,
—Old, Bold, and Bald

It’s Tuesday. I Don’t Care.

 It’s Tuesday.

Somewhere, someone’s pretending it matters. Hustling through spreadsheets. Nodding in meetings. Making their boss feel important. Bless their hearts.

Me? I just don’t care.

Not today. Not this Tuesday. Not when Friday is my last day on this corporate merry-go-nowhere. The calendar says I’ve got a few more days to “wrap things up,” but let’s be honest — I mentally wrapped this up a couple of  months ago. I’m just here now out of some twisted sense of duty... and maybe for the free coffee; only I work from home.

Am I bitter? Nah. Just honest. Brutally, unapologetically honest. The kind of honesty that comes with being old enough to know the game and bald enough not to bother combing over the truth.

I’ve given decades to this system. Showed up, cleaned up messes I didn’t make, carried weight others ignored. And now, with three days left, I’m supposed to smile through the “we’ll miss you” emails and awkward hallway small talk? Nah. I’m good.

Here’s the deal: I’m not retiring. I’m just done here. I’ve got wings that still work, and it’s about time I used them. There are other things calling — things that actually matter to me.

So yeah. It’s Tuesday. But not for long.

Come Friday, I’m out. No fanfare. No fake speeches. Just a quiet exit and a big grin.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some not-caring to get back to.

— Still Old. Still Bold. Definitely Bald. And Very Much Done.

7 Days Left — Not That I’m Counting (I Am)

 I resigned last week. If you missed the memo, congrats — you’ve been spared the sight of a grown man finally pulling the ripcord on a long, slow freefall.

Now I’m down to 7 days. Just 7 more sunrises, 7 more rounds of “You got a minute?” meetings, and 7 more attempts to look like I’m still emotionally invested. Spoiler: I’m not.

This isn’t some dramatic mic drop. No flames, no bridges burned. Just a long-overdue decision by a guy who finally realized he doesn’t need to sit in a box to prove he still has something to offer.

Why’d I resign? Simple. It’s time.

Time to explore other opportunities. Time to chase the stuff I’ve put off for too long. Time to finally spread these damn wings and see what happens when I’m not tethered to corporate gravity. Health, family, and a nagging inner voice all played their part — but ultimately, this is about choosing more. More meaning, more freedom, more of what I want to do with the time I’ve got left.

I’m not retiring. Don’t even suggest it. I’m shifting gears, not hitting the brakes.

So, here we are. 7 days of transition. One grumpy guy, one foot out the door, and one eye on the horizon.

Watch this space. I’ve got things to build, ideas to chase, and maybe a few cages left to rattle.

— The Old, the Bold, and the Bald

I Resigned Today

I Resigned Today. No, I’m Not Retiring.

Yep. I resigned today.

Not because I’m tired. Not because I’m cashing in my chips and heading off to sip margaritas on some beach (though that doesn’t sound terrible). And definitely not because I’ve run out of gas.

I resigned because it was time.

Health and family — they’ve been knocking louder lately, and I’d be a fool not to answer. But the truth is, I’ve had a slow burn going for a while now. A sense that maybe I’ve outgrown the cage. Maybe the title, the meetings, and the corporate treadmill just don’t fit anymore.

So no, I’m not retiring. I’m not done. I’ve got too many personal endeavors still calling my name — projects that actually excite me instead of drain me. Ideas that have been sitting on the back burner for far too long. It’s time to give them the front seat.

This wasn’t a decision made in haste. It’s been brewing, simmering in that space between frustration and clarity. And today, I finally lit the match.

Some will say it’s brave. Others might call it reckless. But I just call it necessary.

I may be old, bold, and bald — but I’ve still got plenty of wind in my sails. And now, I get to chart my own damn course.

Stay tuned.

— Still Grumpy, Still Going — The Old, the Bold, and the Bald

I’m Back — And Just as Grumpy as Ever

 I’m Back — And Just as Grumpy as Ever

Well, well, well... look who crawled back out of the digital void. It’s me. Old, bold, and still bald — like a fine whiskey left out in the sun too long. And yes, before you ask: I’m just as cantankerous as ever.

Life may have tried to smooth my edges, but it turns out I’ve got corners sharp enough to cut through the nonsense — and let me tell you, there’s been plenty of nonsense to go around. I took a little break (not that I owe anyone an explanation), and now I’m back, ready to shout at clouds, grumble about the state of things, and maybe drop a little wisdom in between grunts.

If you're new here, welcome to the chaos. If you're a long-time reader, congrats on surviving this long — your prize is more of me. Unfiltered, unbothered, and unmistakably me.

Expect the usual: rants with bite, observations that make you nod and wince at the same time, and the occasional reflection that proves old dogs can still think — even if we don’t learn new tricks.

So buckle up. Or don’t. I’m not your life coach. Just know that the bald-headed curmudgeon is back. And I’ve got things to say.

— The Old, the Bold, and the Bald