Maybe, but...

I’ll come clean: I have seen neither The Help nor After Armageddon. So perhaps the two are more alike than I suspect. That said, I was somewhat surprised to encounter this earlier today at DeepDiscount.com:

To be fair, it doesn’t tell me that my interest in The Help causes the folds at DeepDiscount.com to think I’d be interested in After Armageddon (”What have past acts of destruction taught us about what will happen to mankind after the apocalypse?” Well, probably that I’d rather not be around to find out)—it merely says “You might also be interested in”, as if they’re just pulling an idea out of the air. Sort of like those odd promos on AMC that are along the lines of “If you’re enjoying Back to the Future, stay tuned for Texas Chainsaw Massacre.” 

Or maybe DeepDiscount.com’s recommendations are based on one of their people saying, “Hey, what do you think we should recommend to this guy?” and someone else saying, “I bet he has pretty eclectic tastes. If he’s interested in The Help, maybe he’d like Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” and someone else says, “Nah, The Help is based on a best-selling novel; he’d want something highbrow like After Armageddon,” and someone else says, “After Armageddon is highbrow?” and the other guy says, “It was on The History Channel!” and the other other guy says, “So what?  So is Ax Men,” and the first guy says, “Okay, done, I just recommended After Armageddon. Hey, this lady’s looking at The Singing Nun, what else should we recommend to her?” And so on.

Anyhow, I ordered two DVDs today, and After Armageddon wasn’t one of them.

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Helloooo, Senior Discount!

I see it’s been awhile (again) since I’ve attended to these pages. November was pretty intense, although mostly in a good way. And now it’s gone.

The arrival of December means I’m barely three weeks away from the anniversary of my birth, and this year’s anniversary marks the arrival of the long-awaited, Much-Coveted Senior Discount.

I can’t for the life of me understand why anyone would be shy or embarrassed or offended by reaching the age of 55, or, as I like to think of it, The Midpoint. Just boxes on the calendar, I always say, and if this box is worth a couple of pennies to me, why, so much the better!

Even as I approach my double nickels, I find hilarious the greeting card we (by which I mean Jackie, on behalf of our office staff) got for my former boss on the occasion of her 55th some years ago. The front of the card is your typical American restaurant breakfast: Eggs, bacon, toast, hash browns, pancakes, coffee, juice, etc., all spread out on the table. Inside the card: “Helloooo, Senior Discount!”

I’m not sure our leader was that amused, however. Her comment upon opening the card: “Oh. My.”
 
At the time, I did sort of wonder if the humor of the card would fade as I approached my own double nickels. It hasn’t. Indeed, I searched online for a copy of the card, with no luck. You’ll have to make do with Clint Eastwood.

 
Actually, I have now twice received the Much-Coveted Senior Discount. The first was at a marching-band event this past summer. My wife, being a few months older than me, already enjoys the rights and privileges attendant to the MCSD—but of course the age at which the discount is given differs from one establishment to the next. So, at said marching-band competition, she inquired about the age at which the MCSD was offered, and told it was the magical age 55. She averred that she qualified...and when we reached our seats we realized the girl had given us both the discount. I made no objection: Since my teenage years, people have tended to assume I’m older than I am. (It predates grayness, baldness, and fatness.) It worked to my advantage then (almost never got carded at bars), and it seems to be working to my advantage again.
 
If that occasion was presumptive, the second occasion, last night, was purely generosity. As we were paying for our dinner, I mentioned to the cashier that my wife was entitled to the discount, and that I should return in three weeks when I would qualify, to which she responded, “I’ll just give it to you now.” Early birthday present. Score!!

Mind you, I don’t for a second think the MCSD is anything to which I am entitled, given that “entitlement” has somehow become a dirty word. There’s no particular skill in managing to go 55 years without dying, not when you live in Middle America, at least. A little caution, a little luck, you should be able to muddle along. But I do see the MCSD as something I’ve been helping to subsidize for several decades now, and I have no objection whatsoever to taking a little payback on it now.

But, that said—phooey on those establishments that won’t give the MCSD till age 65. Cheapskates! When I turn 65, I’m going to quit patronizing your joint.

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