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AARP, Where Are You?

I turned fifty last week, but AARP hasn't found me yet.  I'm so disappointed in them.  They rival any of the intelligence agencies for keeping track of when someone is eligible for their club; how could they overlook me?  Maybe it's the "Susan Brown" thing.  There are so many of us (along with the honorary members of our club, the Susan Brownes out there); maybe they got me mixed up with one of the others.

AARP's snub notwithstanding, I made my first complaint against the younger generation.  It was so much fun!  At my usual grocery store, the checkers and baggers call me "Miss."  I really hate that.  I'm fifty.  I'm a grandmother.  No one with a retainer gets to call me "Miss," I want "Ma'am."  I rate "Ma'am."  When I'm talking to someone my age whom I don't know, I use "Ma'am."  If I'm chasing after her to give her something she left at the counter, I'm calling out, "Ma'am."  "Miss" just doesn't cut it, so I complained.  Nicely, and in a friendly fashion.  After asking KidOne (aka my favorite grocery store checker) if it was okay.  She okayed it so long as I didn't refer to anyone in particular and just referred to it as a pet peeve.

While I was at it, I made a second complaint.  Same email to same store.  Does it bother anyone else out there when young employees respond to a "thank you" with "no problem?"  Of course it's no problem.  It's their job.  If it were a problem, they should get another job.  With machines.  I say, "thank you," they say, "you're welcome."  It's so easy, and so polite, and doesn't bother anyone, AARP-eligibility or not.  So I said that.

It was fun.

But AARP has really disappointed me.  


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Cranky oldster!

Ha ha ha ha.