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Being a senior has its benefits. It seems the public has taken pity on our wearing out bodies, diminishing abilities and waning pocketbooks and has rewarded us with “Senior Discounts”. These are usually small monetary credits for making purchases of various products or services.
Just last night I went with my boy friend to the movies. First of all I’ll mention having a boy friend at my age sounds peculiar but using the terms “significant-other” or “life-partner” are just as strange. Anyway, we went to the neighborhood theater and after standing in line with a row of baggy-jeaned teen age boys, we made our way to the ticket agent. I shamelessly asked for two “Senior” tickets. My friend, with the speed of the youths in front of us, said, “That will be only one. For her, not me.” Although he is exactly my age he has rejected all mention of “senior” anything, even discounts. He believes if you think and behave like you’re younger, then it will be so. I laughed out loud and gave him a major eye-roll and shoulder-shirk. Who does he think he’s fooling? The twenty-something ticket agent gave us both a disgusted look and handed out the two tickets, one senior and the other, regular adult. He didn’t even ask for my driver’s license to be sure I qualified.
Our local grocery store has Senior Day each Tuesday and we get a full ten percent off all purchases. They do not volunteer the discount to older looking customers, but wait for us to mention we want the discount. One of the cashiers told me they are trained to act surprised when asked for Tuesday’s special. They don’t want to offend anyone and never ask a customer if they’d like the “Senior Discount” only to find out the person is several years short of the fifty-five age requirement. The young store employee readily admitted that most of them don’t know a thirty year old from a fifty year old because we all look alike to them.
It’s true that for several years I was in denial and completely avoided asking for an old-age discount. That was until I found out the airlines extended such a perk. Now, that is big money and well worth fessing-up to what is already evident to the general public; that I’m no longer in the middle age group but have advanced to the “I might be leaving here before too long” faction.
Now I brazenly ask any cashier, waiter or clerk to tell me about their “Senior Discount”, being confident they will feel sorry for me and extend a bit of economic relief. While there is no compensation that will erase joint aches, sagging jaws, or the inability to replenish my stock portfolio, I appreciate the thought. Someone out there realizes Seniors are people, too, and that someday each of them, if they are fortunate, will also be receiving Senior Discounts.
Being a senior has its benefits. It seems the public has taken pity on our wearing out bodies, diminishing abilities and waning pocketbooks and has rewarded us with “Senior Discounts”. These are usually small monetary credits for making purchases of various products or services.
Just last night I went with my boy friend to the movies. First of all I’ll mention having a boy friend at my age sounds peculiar but using the terms “significant-other” or “life-partner” are just as strange. Anyway, we went to the neighborhood theater and after standing in line with a row of baggy-jeaned teen age boys, we made our way to the ticket agent. I shamelessly asked for two “Senior” tickets. My friend, with the speed of the youths in front of us, said, “That will be only one. For her, not me.” Although he is exactly my age he has rejected all mention of “senior” anything, even discounts. He believes if you think and behave like you’re younger, then it will be so. I laughed out loud and gave him a major eye-roll and shoulder-shirk. Who does he think he’s fooling? The twenty-something ticket agent gave us both a disgusted look and handed out the two tickets, one senior and the other, regular adult. He didn’t even ask for my driver’s license to be sure I qualified.
Our local grocery store has Senior Day each Tuesday and we get a full ten percent off all purchases. They do not volunteer the discount to older looking customers, but wait for us to mention we want the discount. One of the cashiers told me they are trained to act surprised when asked for Tuesday’s special. They don’t want to offend anyone and never ask a customer if they’d like the “Senior Discount” only to find out the person is several years short of the fifty-five age requirement. The young store employee readily admitted that most of them don’t know a thirty year old from a fifty year old because we all look alike to them.
It’s true that for several years I was in denial and completely avoided asking for an old-age discount. That was until I found out the airlines extended such a perk. Now, that is big money and well worth fessing-up to what is already evident to the general public; that I’m no longer in the middle age group but have advanced to the “I might be leaving here before too long” faction.
Now I brazenly ask any cashier, waiter or clerk to tell me about their “Senior Discount”, being confident they will feel sorry for me and extend a bit of economic relief. While there is no compensation that will erase joint aches, sagging jaws, or the inability to replenish my stock portfolio, I appreciate the thought. Someone out there realizes Seniors are people, too, and that someday each of them, if they are fortunate, will also be receiving Senior Discounts.
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