I turned 40 last week, and I’ve noticed I’ve developed a workplace allergy to stupidity.

As I waltz into my fifth (thanks for the correct) decade, I’ve recognised a rather curious—and frankly alarming—development in my life. No, it’s not greying hair (though that’s happening) or the occasional joint that creaks like a door hinge in a haunted house.

Instead, it’s something much more insidious: an all-consuming, sudden, and entirely unwarranted allergy to stupidity. And not just any stupidity, mind you, but the kind that shows up uninvited at work and acts like it owns the place.

It all started innocuously enough. I quietly rolled my eyes when someone sent an email asking, “What time is the meeting?” after we had sent out the meeting invitation three times. I chuckled to myself, thinking, “numpty.” But soon, these little moments of headshaking turned into full-blown reactions—like breaking out in a rash when someone misspelt my name again after I’d corrected them five times. I was beginning to feel like I’d entered a parallel universe where basic cognitive functions suddenly became optional.

I wasn’t sure what triggered it—perhaps a midlife crisis or maybe just the realisation that I’m too old for this nonsense. Whatever the cause, I now find myself acutely allergic to any form of office incompetence. No, really. I swear I can feel the hives coming on every time someone says, “We need to circle back on this,” or suggests “syncing up” on something that’s already been discussed in detail for 45 minutes. My immune system has started rejecting the idea of wasting time on such conversations.

It's fascinating, really. There was a time when I would tolerate the slow pace of office chatter, nodding along like a good sport while silently hoping for the meeting to end. But now? I can’t even sit through a “quick check-in” without feeling the sudden urge to declare, “If this could have been an email, I would never speak to you again.” In fact, I often experience full-blown symptoms of my allergy when someone suggests a “brainstorming session” without a clear objective—cue the rashes and possibly some light dizziness. Why must we always brainstorm? Don’t you understand that I have an actual job to do?

Bless their hearts; my coworkers?haven't quite grasped my affliction. They’ll send an email asking, “Can we chat?” as though I haven’t discussed this same thing 12 times! I can feel the allergic reaction coming on—my skin itches, my patience thins, and I start contemplating a career change to something more intellectually stimulating, like a professional napper.

To those younger than me, I say this: You will experience this affliction someday. I hope you’ll have the grace to admit it when it hits. You’ll look at that PowerPoint slide full of meaningless buzzwords, and something in your brain will snap. Your body will fight against it. You’ll try to power through, but deep down, you’ll know you’ve crossed over into the "No More Time for This S**t" Zone.

But in all seriousness (well, as serious as I can be on this topic), I’ve learned to cope with my workplace stupidity allergy by taking strategic action. Now, when someone hits me with a truly unbelievable question, I look them dead in the eye and let the uncomfortable silence be my deafening response. They stare at me in confusion for a few seconds, and then an unspoken understanding settles in: they know. They know exactly what I mean.

To all those still blissfully unaware of this workplace condition, my advice is simple: if you are over 30 and can still tolerate the same old nonsense, congratulations! But be warned: the allergy is coming, and when it does, it doesn’t take prisoners.

Here's hoping my 40s bring a more serious allergy test—but until then, I’ll keep my chamomile tea nearby just in case.