Logistics at a Crossroads Vol 20: Rejected, Redefined

 The Quiet Exit of Experience in the Age of Automation

In logistics, everything has a timestamp—cargo, paperwork, driver check-ins, port calls. But one thing that often goes without a clock? The quiet push of seasoned professionals out the door.

As someone who’s been in transportation, shipping, and logistics for over 30 years, I’ve seen the shift firsthand. It’s not about resisting change. It’s about the time—the time we’ve put in, the hours we still give, and the knowledge we carry.

I’m 48. And yes, I still work the 30-hour shift.
A 10-hour day turns into a 10-hour night, followed by another 10-hour day before I ever leave the building. Why? Because vessel traffic doesn’t care if it’s 2 a.m., and truck queues don’t pause when systems glitch. I stay because someone has to hold the line.

Younger folks entering the field often underestimate the grit it takes—not just to learn the tools (AI, Teams, Freightpop, Magaya, Google Sheets), but to weather the storm, week after week. I don’t say that as a gatekeeper—I say it as someone who’s willing to teach if someone’s willing to listen.

Every other week, I get five days off. On paper, it sounds great. But that seven-day grind before it? It’ll humble you. Logistics isn't just software and dashboards. It’s stamina. It’s systems. It’s sacrifice.

And yet—despite all of that—aging employees are often viewed as liabilities. A “health risk.” A cost. But what companies fail to measure is the knowledge that walks out the door with us.

We’re not slow to learn. Most of us were the first to pick up the new programs—not because we had to, but because we wanted to make the job easier. We've run AS400 and Access. Mastered Excel. Loved Word. Used carbon triplicates before there were PDFs. And when the system crashes? We don’t panic.

We reach for The Book.

You know the one. That binder tucked in the bottom drawer with shipping schedules, purchase order templates, backup copies of invoices—and a handwritten SOP for when the network's down and the cloud's unreachable. It’s the kind of knowledge that only comes from time.

Being an “old hat” isn’t a bad thing. It’s not a flaw. It’s a resource.

So the next time you’re hiring—or worse, reorganizing—take a moment. Look at the people with the creased notebooks and the beat-up clipboards. The ones who still write in cursive and can calculate freight charges in their heads.

They are your past and your future.

And when the lights go out and your AI goes silent? They’ll still get the freight out the door.