Sometimes it's the little things in life that get
you down. Those seemingly simple aspects
of life that somehow end up being more than
bothersome. Consider cold cuts. Out east we
savvy folks always required that our chilled
protein to be sliced extra thin at the deli. In
Chicago the pack craves shaved turkey, ham,
and even roast beef. Sadly the way out west
seems to require that one cut a slice off a slab
that's at least three eighths of an inch too thick.
Hence when I request "very thin" I invariably
get a quarter to eighth of an inch minimum.
And at this point I'm just too old for that shit.
Obviously the inability to get one's sandwich
fixings as thin as possible shouldn't be a late
in life crisis. In truth it's really not a big deal.
And yet... to me it's one more compromise I
must make on a regular basis. I'm normally
a glass half full kind of guy. Thus I should be
grateful that I can still purchase pre-cooked
protein that's more than edible. However my
frustration is that try as I might, I can't seem
to get proper customer service from the kids
who are paid to do just that. A negative trend
that negatively impacts my life almost every
day. And yet I continue to hope for the best.
Don't get me wrong. There are many lovely
people in Lewistown who take good care of
me. They know my foibles and are willing
(and able) to address them. My frustration
is that said folks are few and far between.
And old enough that all too soon they'll retire.
Only to be replaced by a Millennial substitute
who wants to be any where but on said job.
Hence their focus is on getting things done
as easily as possible. And in their quest for
convenience it's all about them. Am I too
old to get any satisfaction? Or is it time to
accept I'm out of touch with reality?!
Have you seen the Netflix show "Frankie and
Grace"? Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin star as
two "older" gals navigating this modern world.
One of my favorite scenes has said duo trying
to buy cigarettes at a grocery store checkout.
Try as they might, the young staff completely
ignores them. After begging for help the ladies
scream for attention. Only to be overlooked.
In the end they walk out with a stolen pack
of cigarettes. And post lighting their ill gotten
gain Jane utters "I refuse to be irrelevant."
Proving that with age comes the realization
that the older one gets, the harder life gets...
Obviously my challenges could have nothing
to do with age. Maybe I'm too picky. Or my
standards may be archaic at best. Hence while
youth is wasted on the young I fully accept
that I must babysit those employed to service
my every need. Thus I will graciously provide
on the job training to local child labor. After
all - the idea of going without is much worse
than teaching yet another bartender how to
mix my Manhattan. I know that ultimately
these kids will figure things out. My concern
is said realization just might align with their
retirement. But who cares? I'll be long gone!