Cantankerously Yours
Overlooked: The Beauty of Aging
By Wendell Abern
Dear Mid-Lifers and Older,
As I mentioned last month, I have just turned 80. And for the past 25 years or so, I have been listening to people saying things like, “Old age ain’t for sissies.”
While such comments stem primarily from health issues, no one ever mentions the beautiful things about getting older.
Being old gives you license … for just about anything! Being late with birthday cards. Acting unreasonably just because you feel like it. Embarrassing your kids in front of their kids.
To me, age is just another number. But I love to take advantage of it. I no longer feel constrained to remain silent when others display rudeness or incompetence. Okay, granted, I have been writing about displays of incivility and stupidity for some time. And I’ve been vocal about it on occasion.
But I’ve never really cut loose verbally. A few recent incidents demonstrated to me how therapeutic it can be to transcend the written word, and give those who are annoying me a lesson in obnoxiousness.
It all began with a machine.
Machines come alive around me and stop working. In this case, it was my washing machine: a slow leak from an old hose, necessitating a call to Sears. Whenever I go through this process (frequently, because my machines love to torment me), I find that the service person who comes is terrific … but the telephone tyranny I go through first activates my curmudgeon glands.
I call Sears. After seven minutes on hold, Jennifer answers.
“I can send someone out a week from tomorrow,” she says after consulting her computer.
“WHAT! Jennifer, connect me with your supervisor, and I mean NOW, not after seven minutes on hold or –”
Jennifer disconnects, and I go on hold for ten minutes, when Jeff answers.
“Jeff,” I say in my best fake affability voice, “I’d like to invite you to come swimming with me on my front porch. However, there is no life guard.”
“Sir, Jennifer told me — “
“She told me I had to wait a week for help. Not acceptable.”
“Sir, I can have someone there on Thursday.”
“That’s three days. How about tomorrow?”
“Thursday, sir. Best I can do.”
I settle for Thursday. My repair person – Joe – is scheduled to arrive between eight and noon. At 10:45, I receive a recorded announcement telling me Joe will not be able to come until four. I call back the number on my caller ID. Roberta answers.
“Hi, Roberta. I’m calling from Noah’s Ark.”
Giggle.
“You just left a message that my hero won’t be here until four and I have run out of rags, dish towels and bath towels soaking up the water. Now please call him and –”
“Sir, I can call him, but he’s –”
“I don’t want to know his problems! I don’t want to know your problems! You’re supposed to be fixing my problems! Roberta, I am a lawyer (a wonderful lie I employ whenever it’s expedient), and if he’s not here by two o’clock, I am holding Sears liable for any damages on my porch.”
I hang up. Joe shows up at 1:45. Takes him 20 minutes to replace my old hose.
This incident paved the way for my newfound persona. No more merely writing about my frustrations! From now on, I vocalize! I threaten! I yell! I lie!
Who says an old dog can’t learn new tricks?
A week or so after this incident, I am standing in line at Publix. The woman in front of me is on her cell phone, talking loud enough to be heard throughout the checkout section.
I believe there are few things as inconsiderate as private conversations in public places. I decide to chime in when the woman says, “Marge, you wouldn’t have this problem if you’d stayed with ‘Weight Watchers!'”
“Ask her if she’s tried the Atkins diet?” I say as loud as I can.
The woman turns her back on me and says, “You just can’t keep eating this way! You’ll look like a house!”
“Jennie Craig,” I suggest. “Tell her to give Jennie Craig a shot.”
A slight pause. Then, “I’m going to have to call you later, Marge. I have to check out now.” She turns around and glares at me.
“Maybe she should try liposuction,” I say.
She frowns. The cashier chuckles. I smile.
By now, I honestly feel like my verbal abrasiveness is helping to make the world a better place!
I have occasion to hone this new skill a few days later when I take my friend Nancy to see a current box-office hit.
I rarely go to movies these days. I’m perfectly content to rent movies and watch them in the privacy of my home. What upsets me even more than the outrageous prices is the prevalence of rude patrons who feel compelled to narrate the movie to a companion.
However, whenever Nancy visits (she lives out of state), we go to some movie. After last month’s incident, she may be a little reluctant on her next trip.
The woman sitting directly behind me starts three minutes into the movie.
“She just told him he had intriguing eyes,” she announces to her friend in a loud whisper.
Two minutes later, she says, “He just said he thought it was great she had such a cushy job.”
I turn around and, loud enough for the entire audience to hear, shout, “He did not! He said she had a great tushey!”
Nancy cringes. They move. I smile.
* * *
Octogenarians, unite! Complain openly! Humiliate verbally! I haven’t had this much fun since I was 70 and started asking professional athletes to conjugate verbs.
Cantankerously Yours,
Wendell Abern
Wendell Abern can be reached at [email protected].