In my day job as a ghostwriter for global corporations, I have lots of opportunity to write about some of the leading trends our society faces. One topic that continues to crop up is around the ways in which technologies—like artificial intelligence and machine learning—are changing our workforce realities. Although most analysts concur that the so-called “robots” will likely take over certain jobs—particularly those that are highly-repetitive, manual, or labour intensive—they also agree that human jobs will not go away. They will simply evolve.

Workers eager to keep pace with these trends are consequently now being advised to hone certain “uniquely human” skills that the pundits think will be immune to digitization. These include traits such as curiosity, creativity, communication, and complex problem solving. The underlying message is that workers of the future—and, really, not just workers, but all people—must be willing to commit to a course of lifelong learning, one that will see us constantly adjusting to changing realities, learning new skills, and generally challenging ourselves to continuously adapt and reshape ourselves.

While this may sound good in theory, the truth is that many of us are uncomfortable with change. As great as it may be to regularly reinvent ourselves, the practical reality of going back to school, fumbling through the mistakes associated with gaining a new skill, and coming back to work as essentially novices can be pretty daunting.

Except, for some people, change is actually an adventure, a sought-out experience, an opportunity to grow. My thinking is we have a lot to learn from those kinds of people. Which is why I want to talk about my father-in-law.

Is the door locked?

As a young boy, my husband remembers his dad—who was an engineer—coming home from work, pulling his car into the garage, and then taking 20 minutes to get into the house. Smart phones weren’t a thing then, so it’s not like he was checking his email or playing a quick game of Candy Crush. Instead, obeying the impulses of his OCD, he’d spend 20 minutes checking and rechecking that the car doors were locked and the engine wasn’t running.

There were other manifestations too. Whenever leaving the house, he’d regularly lock the door, reopen it, check to make sure the lights were off and the appliances unplugged, leave again, lock the door, and start the ritual over.

Even snapping a picture became a drawn-out process that required the subjects to sit and wait for ten minutes for the frame to be set up and the photo taken. Although, in fairness, as my husband says, this one may have been the fault of crappy Russian technology. Apparently, you had to be an engineer to even figure out how to operate those cameras.

In any event, as anyone who suffers from OCD can tell you, these little compulsions frequently become irritating, distracting, and occasionally debilitating. My father-in-law figured out how to adapt to them, but it’s not like they were fun.

Fast forward

Last year, when my father-in-law was 84, he heard about a program being offered at a local clinic designed to help people overcome OCD. So he signed up.

Let me set this out for you. He was already long retired. He’s in stellar physical shape. He still plays tennis with my husband at least once a week. His engineer’s brain has allowed him to easily embrace new technologies. Really, he’s almost as bad as the kids—texting at the table and everything. He has a good life. There was absolutely no compelling reason for him to suddenly decide to tackle a lifelong behavioural pattern that was by no means dominating his life at the age of 84. But he signed up anyways.

The program focuses on cognitive behavioural therapy to help participants become aware of their underlying habits and consider other ways to think about them. It includes behavioural exercises designed to help people self-identify their own patterns and make conscious choices to shift them.

You know that expression “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks”? It’s bullshit. Or, maybe it’s true for dogs, but clearly not for people. Research backs this up. Although aging does seem to contribute to some neural deterioration, the brain maintains its capacity to increase its neural function even as we age. In plain English, that means we can always learn new things. We just need to be willing.

Yesterday, my father-in-law celebrated his 85th birthday—and he’s as vibrant and wily as ever. I honestly believe that he manages to stay young by keeping a totally open mind, never judging others, continuously cultivating his innate curiosity, and remaining willing to experiment. Happy 85th, Camil! Thanks for the lesson that anything is possible to those who believe.