A bit of a background for this week’s blog:
When you’re young, you want to look older. Remember how we tried to look 18 when we were 16 or 17 so we wouldn’t be carded when ordering an alcoholic beverage. (I hope my grandkids aren’t reading this.) Then when we hit 25, we were insulted when someone thought we were still a teen and carded us.
Now that my peers are at an age discounts are available for seniors in restaurants or such, it’s a great feeling when you’re hugging 70 and the teen at the register asks to see your driver’s license when you ask for the discount.
Now to the point of the blog.
A friend called to say she’s very depressed and in a real funk. I wanted to know what set her blues off.
“I asked for the senior discount, and I wasn’t carded”
It took a minute for me to realize what this implied before saying, “Ouch.”
“It’s worse than you think,” she added.
“How?”
“The same waiter always cards my husband.”
Double ouch.
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