We seem to be skipping that phase.
Not only do I no longer get carded when I buy beer at the grocery store - it's been a few years - but today the checker finished scanning my items and then asked, "You're not a senior citizen, are you?" Oh. My. God.
After recovering, I exclaimed loudly, "Not yet!" I didn't know whether to laugh or slap her.
She said, "I didn't think so. Just wanted to be sure." You didn't think so, but you couldn't be absolutely certain. Again: Oh. My. God.
I'm 48 years old, but she thought there was a chance I could be 65. Or at least 55, going by the restaurant menu standard. Do I look like I would order dinner at 4:30? I mean, come on, maybe 5:30, but give me a break!
I did join AARP in my early 40's, but not because I felt old - I just wanted to get discount movie tickets (which don't appear to be a benefit of membership).
I caught a glimpse of my hair in the rear view mirror on the way home. It was a little shocking, I had to admit - you know, seeing an image of your outsides that doesn't match what how your insides feel.
But maybe it's time to face the truth. When meeting friends at a night spot a couple months ago, I stood in line at the door. They carded everyone in front of me. Then they waved me on and carded everyone behind me. How mortifying! I could just hear them going, "Whose dad is that?" And in fact, I mysteriously experienced a moment of looking for a son I don't have.
I now think maybe they card me every time at my favorite bar only because they're bored.
What happened to middle age? Maybe someone should have told me the exact age it started and when the cutoff was at the other end so I would have been better prepared and self-aware enough to enjoy it while it lasted. As it is, the next thing they are going to do at Harris Teeter is meet me at the door and ask if I want to shop using one of their scooter carts. Then when I finish they will offer to call the Sunrise Retirement Home shuttle.
Just out of curiosity, I recently asked our 24 year-old contractor at work how old his father was. Bad idea. Turns out I'm older than his father! I knew there was a risk that I would be, but I thought it was a negligible one. I can see being older than the father of a baby or a kid with a sippy cup. But how can I be older than THE FATHER OF a person who analyzes and organizes things at work, shares a boss with me, and pays his own way through life?
The signs were already there. For a while (too short), I had a dentist who was ten years my junior. Young people have been calling me "sir" for a while. About the only time I have to dig out my driver's license now (besides the occasional outing to my favorite bar, which doesn't really count anymore - see above) is in the security line at the airport.
Ah well, at least there are perks for seniors.
- You have a party and the neighbors don't even realize it.
- Things you buy now won't wear out.
- In a hostage situation, you are likely to be released first.*
Now, where did I put those movie tickets?
* Perks courtesy of: www.llerrah.com/seniorperks.htm
