Who You Calling Grandpa, Sonny?
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Let's NOT do the math.
I just received notice in the mail that next year (2005) is my 40th year college re-union. I get one of these every five years, so it's never been THAT big of a deal. I went to my 10th annual and of course to my 25th. So every five years, I generally just toss the re-union flyer invitation and the included request for alumni contribution unceremoniously into the trash.
I also get a monthly magazine from the old college alma mater. This month, I noticed(since data is posted chronologically), that the information concerning myself and my former Class of '65 classmates seems to be further and further and further toward the back of the magazine. In fact, this year, we seem to be unnaturally and awkwardly close to those 50-year geezer grads.
And another thing: I joined AARP the other day so that I could get a 50% discount on some new glasses. I got that tip from one of my 50-year-old fishing buddies.
By now, you're no doubt wonderingwhy I'm babbling on about college re-unions and other reunion and AARP related topics. OK! I'll fess up.
Actually, I'm trying to find a comfortable segue to talk about a recent "incident" (concerning age) at a local Staples outlet. THIS REALLY HAPPENED TO ME! This "incident" needs to be discussed. This "incident" needs clarification. This "incident" demands a full letter of apology from some very important corporate muckity-muck at Staples International HQ.
Here's what happened!
It was 4:00 p.m. in the afternoon on a Saturday. I needed blank CD disks. I'm dressed in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I drive to Staples 'cuz they always have good deals on CD disks. I find a packet of 50 for about $7.50 and because it's such a good deal, I buy two packs.
While I'm in the check-out line, one of the Staples employee-of-the-month candidates - a young man of no more than 18 years - notices my shrewd purchase (100 disks for $15) and commends me on my shopping skills.
"That's a real good price on those disks," he says, smiling.
"Yup, it is," I beamed, basking in the compliment.
I then explained that I had needed a disk earlier that day and that not a single CD could be found.
And then it came . . . like a bolt of lightning . . .
"I guess your grand kids must be using them up on you," he said, kinda laughing, like they probably teach them whipper-snappers at employee of the month training school.
Just one minute there, skeeter. This young puppydog has two kids in college. But . . . Hey, I'm no Grandpa. At least I never thought of myself that way until the other day in Staples.
Grandpa . . . my butt!
To make matter worse, just this morning, I found a whole patch of grey hairs where the blonde ones used to be. And my moustache looks a little grey also. In the words of Joe Schmoe . . . "What is going on here?"
So now, I'm doing the arithmetic. IfI'm 61 for my 40th reunion, I'll be 71 for my 50th.
Good Grief! 71!
I'll tell you one thing. I'm not shopping at Staples anymore. They got no repect for the elderly. And maybe I'll go to that 40th reunion next year . . . while I'm still young enough to travel.
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O. J. Cunningham |
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