Last night, I went out to a nearby fast-food restaurant for dinner. When my order was being totaled up, the young lady at the register told me my total:
“That’ll be $6.99, minus the senior discount…”
“I’m not even 40!” I blurted out.
She was mortified.
In her defense, she was a 17-year-old black girl. So she was judging the age of someone of a different race, sex, and more than double her age.
And I do admit I do look a bit older than I am. It’s the hairline, dammit. Also, since I’m on vacation, I hadn’t shaved yesterday.
Also, my New England accent might have thrown her off. Rather, my utter lack of an accent, as she had a bit of a southern drawl.
But still… it was a huge, crushing blow to my self-esteem.
I’d consider suing the Colonel, but I think my case might be hurt by the fact that I took the discount anyway. If she had offered me a medium Geritol, though, all bets would have been off.
Us flint-fisted New Englanders, always penny-wise and pound-foolish.
