The doorbell just rang. It was two boys from the local high school (DG South, for those who will get the later joke), hawking some kind of fundraising gold card that would give me discounts at local merchants and the like. I passed on their offer ("if for no other reason than that I went to North", as I told them), but that's not what troubling. What troubled me was the age of these kids. Looking at them through the window before opening the door, I figured them to be peddling for Little League or youth soccer or somesuch. THESE DID NOT LOOK LIKE HIGH SCHOOL STUDENTS. These were kids about HALF MY AGE.
Oh, God, I'm old, I'm old, I'm so very, very old. Might as well just join AARP now.
|Date:||August 30th, 2003 01:30 pm (UTC)|| |
Over the past couple of years I've had to come to terms with those young teenagers selling crap calling me the worst thing you can ever be called. yep, you guessed it- Ma'am. I am still not over it. I'm not sure what happened. I think the worst was when I was going into a convenience store about a month ago and three boys, rougly 17 were mumbling shit to each other and finally one approached me- to ask me to buy them beer. I did, but that's beside the point. See you in the old folks home.