A forty-something female clerk at Kroger’s called me a “seasoned citizen” the other day. It was a dodge, one of those euphemisms folks use when they absolutely must stick a label on you. I told her yes, I was seasoned - pepper, cinnamon, cloves, a dash of cayenne, a sprig of thyme - and cooked nearly well done. I was tempted to invite her to bite me. But that would have been rude. So I just smiled.
In the interest of full disclosure (no, my real name isn’t Bill Clinton) I should tell you it was the first Wednesday of the month and I was there for the 10% senior discount.
Same thing with “young man”. That’s the owner of my neighborhood independent hardware store, probably fifteen years younger than me, who always wears a baseball cap to hide his scalp. Good news is he gives us who have endured 60 years and can still afford to pay his prices a ten percent discount, which gets him close to the big box store prices. I suppose you could look at it backwards and say customers under 60 pay a junior penalty. Maybe they are just “bland”, or “green” or “underdone” or something like that.
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