A beauty at the checkout. No, not what you think!

I went to the nearby Goodwill Store to see if I might be able to pick up a used book or two for my summer readings.  I had to go in search because I have given up on Faulkner's As I lay dying.  The title of the book pretty much captures my feeling every single time I tried to read yet another page.

I lucked out; I spotted a copy of Roddy Doyle's Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha.  I have read a couple of his short stories in the New Yorker.  But that is not why I picked up the book.  A couple of years ago, when I was the director of the university's Honors Program, one of the students, "K," worked on a thesis in which she analyzed Doyle's novels.  It has been on my list since then.

I picked up two LP vinyls also--Doris Day, and the Carpenters.

I was scanning for more when the public address system blasted, "attention shoppers, the store will close in 15 minutes."

I lined up at a counter where the customers were finishing up. I was next.

The pregnant twenty-something totaled up and said "$2.73"

And after she handed me back the 27 cents change, she said "but, I didn't give your discount."

I was confused.  I get discounts at the Goodwill?  Is my suddenly less-affluent state beginning to show, like how her pregnancy was obvious?

She clarified for me.

"Your senior discount.  You are over 55, right?"

I burst out laughing.  "This is hilarious. I am not 55"

With the utmost sincerity, she asked "so how old are you then?"

"Way less than 55. I am just 47."

"You have all this white hair all over. That is why"

"I started graying early in life.  This is so funny."

"It is funny all right" she said.

In my mind, I feel I am just about 30.

The time meter says I am 47.

This clerk thinks I am at least 55.

My students think I am ancient.

I suppose time is relative.

But, ... but, ....

55 ??? :)