A Senior Moment

As you may recall, Ken and I recently set up a booth in the antique shop where I currently work part-time. The space I have now is twice as large as the booth I used to have, which means I have to do a lot more buying if I want to keep up with sales. Not that it’s a problem—I love to shop. But where do I buy things cheap enough that I can resell them? Thrift stores, of course (or what some of you would call charity shops). It’s amazing how many cool things you can find at second-hand places that can be refinished, refreshed, or refurbished. So I’ve been regularly haunting Goodwill, Value Village and a couple of other places where I’ve found some great stuff—well, great if you’re willing to put in a little elbow grease. For example, the other day, I got a couple of old sewing machine drawers for 6 bucks each—a little chalk paint and new knobs, and they’re ready for resale. Or check out below the coatrack that I made out of a single footboard, a couple of old shoe forms, and some fancy hooks.

But I have to keep my overhead low, which is why the other day, I had an experience that was both amazing and troubling.

I’d been at my hairdresser’s and she mentioned a thrift store in another town called Talize, which I’d never heard of, but apparently they have a ton of locations in Ontario. I needed to visit my Lancôme lady anyway, and this Talize store was just down the street. I had been astonished to discover that my tiny, perfect, and young-looking Lancôme lady Rosina had a twenty-seven-year-old son, since she looks about twenty-seven herself, but then I remembered that we’d known each other for over fifteen years, so she must be older than I thought. At any rate, she told ME that I didn’t look old enough to have a twenty-four-year-old daughter, and I know that’s just to keep me buying serum, but still, I walked away with a bit of a glow.

The glow continued on into Talize, where I discovered a fancy plate stand, a wicker suitcase, an old washboard, and a couple of wine goblets. Then I got to the cash register. “That’ll be 18.35,” the cashier said. “Unless you qualify for one of our discounts.”

“Which discount?” I asked.

“Well, we have a senior’s discount. You’d qualify for that.”

The glow faded. And even though their seniors’ discount was for 55 and up, I still felt a little betrayed by Rosina, who had assured me, prior to my purchase, that I didn’t look a day over 45, and the cashier had immediately clocked me as being at least my own goddamn age. But then, the cashier recalculated the sale. “16.50. You saved 10%.”  

And I was so excited that I did what any normal person would do—I called Ken. “I’m a senior!” I said. “Do you know what that means?”

“That when you crouch down, it hurts to stand back up?”

“Also that. But it means that I get a discount at Talize. Ooh, I wonder what age you have to be to qualify for a discount at Chez VV? Let me look…what the hell? SIXTY? The nerve. How does Value Village expect us poor pensioners to afford their sh*t? Oh well, three more years to go.”

And I can’t wait.

I made this too! It’s our company name!

44 thoughts on “A Senior Moment

  1. Oh, the discounts are a nice perk 🙂 Nate and I qualify for AARP. Nate was so upset when the membership application came in the mail. Not me–I was online immediately, trying to see what airlines, hotels, and restaurants would give us discounts. Woohoo!!!

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  2. To paraphrase Mr. Prufrock, “I have seen the Eternal Footman hold my coat rack and say ‘You can get a ten percent discount on this if you’re over sixty and that serum is doing wonders for your skin. Also have you thought about a reverse mortgage?”

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  3. Take the discounts! Your youth is evident in your attitude!!!! I’m still shaking my head that I couldn’t wait to be 25 so I could rent a car on my own. Until some asshat pointed out that I was now A QUARTER CENTURY OLD.

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  4. Sewing drawer? For storing chopsticks? Or baseball cards…?
    Being a guy, I’m afraid I can’t relate to the topic of age. I still think I’m 33 and don’t register any kind of interaction that questions that. At work (well, through Slack/Zoom) I’m just as irreverent, just as snide as I was in my 30’s. Nobody and nothing is off limits to my derision. *Maybe* I’ve gotten a bit more bold with my remarks, wha’cha gonna do — fire me? Good riddance! So there is that. But my appearance? Again, gender differences take precedence here. I just don’t care.
    And yeah, it’s not the groaning after bending down that gives me away. It’s the creaking and the popping during straightening. Whoa, what was that? You got a popgun in your pocket, gramps?

    Liked by 3 people

    • I will always be 13 in my head, as I’m sure you can tell from the blog. Currently I’m trying to determine how long I’ll be able to keep washing my hair by bending over the bathtub because straightening up is killer!

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  5. “I’m a senior!” I said. “Do you know what that means?”

    “That when you crouch down, it hurts to stand back up?”

    Laugh out loud funny, Suzanne. I could so relate. But those discounts are nice little treats (when I remember to tell the clerk that I’m over 30. 😀 Great finds and how fun to create treasure from… other stuff.

    Liked by 2 people

  6. I’d laugh at the senior discount and visage statement, but meh. You’re still a KID. Wait for 60. It’s not all it is cracked up to be, I ought to know. I’m now in my “60s” and if one more person asks me if I’m steady enough to cross the street on my own…😡 I might look 75, but it’s not true. I’ve been getting the ‘senior discount’ since I was 55, I didn’t always take advantage, but if something was spendy and they assumed wrongly, who was I to contradict them? 😄 Enjoy the rest of your 50s. The time flies past like a summer breeze.

    Liked by 2 people

  7. Sounds like you have a great side business going. Don’t feel too bad about the age thing . . . back when they were offering shots for 60 years and up, the pharmacist asked me if I was there for the shot. I am no where near 60. LOL!

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  8. I don’t yet qualify for those discounts, but it does hurt a lot when I try to get back up after crouching. If I can prove that with a doctor’s slip, do you think some of these places will make an exception? Like, consider me “prematurely senior”? “Senior-in-waiting”? “Old in spirit”?

    Ah, hell, who am I kidding. Right now I’m 53 and 48/73 so I only have to wait another 1 and 25/73 years to get my first bonus; I’ll bide my time.

    Say, any chance I can get a mathematics discount, though? I’ll show my work. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  9. This post is pure gold, all of it. Especially the coat rack (LOVE!!) and the Prufrock sign.

    When I was in high school, we had a lovely English teacher who tried – really, really tried – to share her love of poetry with us, the Prufrock piece included. We, all of us, to a student, were quite thick about the whole poetry business, so she quickly moved on to the Short Story. Every time I think about that poem, I see her, with her orange-tinged lipstick, struggling to expand our poetic horizons. That poor woman deserved a medal for her efforts.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. As I mentioned in a reply to one of your comments on my blog, the doorman in my building insists on calling me the Fonz, complete with a double-thumbs-up every time I come home, on account of the leather jacket I wear. I am, as you might imagine, simultaneously flattered by his homage and somewhat chagrined that he (rightly) considers me old enough to get that reference!

    Liked by 1 person

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