When I was a very young kid, our phone number was still four digits. When I started into first grade, it was pounded into my head that there were now THREE! MORE! DIGITS! in front of the previous number. (Not that it really mattered - in those days Northwestern Bell still had local operators, and anyway, any little kid who was lost would have probably been recognized and put in touch with the folks, pronto)
The big irony about aging with me was facial hair: In my early career, there was NO WAY a hotel employee could have ANY sort of facial hair. Then, they said you could have a mustache - but only if you grew it on vacation. Since I looked like a real dork with my wispy vacation mustache, I stayed clean shaven, and got used to people thinking I was their fourteen year old bellboy, instead of the person who would end up being responsible for their silly wedding reception or banquet.
But then came the New Covenant: Not only could non-uniformed women wear SLACKS (but only before 5pm), but the men could have goatees!!! We felt so liberated!!
So I grew mine (and I didn't go on vacation to do it - luckily, this coincided with us "going computer", and I was the one of the few who understood the "new techonolgy", so I spent three weeks facing a wall and entering future convention bookings into the computer, all while gestating my 'goat)
Once I did that, I magically looked older! People didn't expect me to carry their bags up to their room anymore! I felt like an adult!
Nowadays, I have no problem with people mistaking me for a youngster, unfortunately
