Memoirs of a Geezer!
Reflections and Observations -- A Bright Passage from the Fantasies of Youth
to Illuminations of Advanced Maturity!
This Episode: Ageism and the Callousness of Youth... with a Choice of Toppings!
Like blows from Thor's Hammer, life can sometimes hurl great challenges at the unsuspecting. One must always be vigilant! Driving into a parking lot on a pleasant spring day, my wife and I were poised to make certain purchases from a local pharmacy. Upon entering the shopping enclave, not really a strip- but more an L-shaped mini-mall, we found the parking area, as usual, jammed. Given our prevailing temperament on that soft, spring day, we chose to wait patiently for a parking space to be vacated.
An elderly gentleman, laden with packages, ambled toward his vehicle, and ultimately climbed aboard. (Had we not been imbued with exceptional patience, the nectar of human kindness flowing like sweet honey through our vessels, we might have been tempted to enumerate his shambling steps!) Meanwhile, we had idled our modestly-sized sedan perpendicular to a row of vehicles, our flashers appropriately illuminated for safety. As the elderly man backed out, in our direction, his just one car removed from ours, a smallish red two-door auto sped into the space, even before the elderly driver could begin his forward motion and thus make his exit. This action forced the elderly man to stomp on his brake, in whichever position his gear shift was placed.
The young driver of the red two-door hastily exited his vehicle. We could readily spy the sign atop his car that announced something like, "Yummy Pizza... Seriously Rapid Delivery!" I jumped out of my vehicle and suggested to the young driver, he in his late teens or early 20s I surmised, "That was a shitty thing to do! You could see I was waiting for that space!"
Whereupon the youngster replied, "F**k you, old man!"
At that moment, a 40s-something woman had just emerged from a sandwich shop. Having heard the exchange between the pizza delivery kid and myself, her face wore a shocked
As something approaching another 10 minutes passed, we eventually secured a parking space, and did so respectfully, allowing an elderly woman to board her vehicle, check her makeup, adjust her rear view mirror, unwrap a chocolate, place her cellular telephone to her ear, light a cigarette and then at last back out of the space. My wife and I smiled pleasantly, of course, exuding patience.
Unable to let the incident with the pizza kid pass without an appropriate response on our part, after installing our vehicle, my wife and I headed to the pizza parlor, entered and asked to speak to the owner or manager. The delivery kid had apparently, by that time, already left with another stack of pizza boxes intended for home or business place destinations.
A 40-ish man appeared. "May I help you."
"I hope so," I said. "Your delivery driver treated us with extreme rudeness..." and I then related to him what had transpired between us just 10 or 15 minutes previously. My wife said, "If that kid is representative of your establishment's treatment of people generally, never mind older adults, you won't be in business much longer. I can't imagine recommending your place to people we know."
"I'm so very sorry," the man replied. "I'll certainly have words with him. Please accept my sincere apologies. This is an outrage, and I'll make certain it doesn't happen again. I hope you'll visit us again, but under pleasanter circumstances."
Back in the parking lot, I said to my wife, "Cheap jerk should have had the good grace to offer us a free pizza, at least a coupon or something. You know what I really wanted to say to that pizza kid: 'You snot-nosed pizza-faced jerk of a duck dropping...' something to that effect. Damn nasty little snip of a pizza pusher!"
My wife said, as if in a private musing, "Were we as disrespectful to older people in our younger days? Did we ever think how we'd want to be treated by the young at our age?"
"A fair question," I said. "I hope we were a bit more sensitive and caring, but I don't know..." and my thoughts trailed off to a plane of distant memory.
"Ah, but with advanced maturity," my wife added, "comes wisdom and restraint. I'm so proud of the way you handled things. Do you think we'll ever actually patronize that pizza place?" The question was loaded, as if with sardonic sausage.
Chuckling, I replied, "Are you kidding? It's possible they serve a large pie covered in black ants, centipedes and rabbit droppings. Besides, I'll only order pizza from our favorites, just the two of them, and you know who they are."
"Well," my wife said, we should always try to be patient and understanding. Maybe the pizza kid has an unhappy family life, a mean parent; he's having a lousy day to boot."
"F**k him," I said. We both laughed good naturedly as we ambled with slow deliberation toward our car, into a parking lot now glutted with impatient patrons, each circling like a vulture poised to strike, fiercely spying for a target to pounce.
An elderly gentleman, laden with packages, ambled toward his vehicle, and ultimately climbed aboard. (Had we not been imbued with exceptional patience, the nectar of human kindness flowing like sweet honey through our vessels, we might have been tempted to enumerate his shambling steps!) Meanwhile, we had idled our modestly-sized sedan perpendicular to a row of vehicles, our flashers appropriately illuminated for safety. As the elderly man backed out, in our direction, his just one car removed from ours, a smallish red two-door auto sped into the space, even before the elderly driver could begin his forward motion and thus make his exit. This action forced the elderly man to stomp on his brake, in whichever position his gear shift was placed.
The young driver of the red two-door hastily exited his vehicle. We could readily spy the sign atop his car that announced something like, "Yummy Pizza... Seriously Rapid Delivery!" I jumped out of my vehicle and suggested to the young driver, he in his late teens or early 20s I surmised, "That was a shitty thing to do! You could see I was waiting for that space!"
Whereupon the youngster replied, "F**k you, old man!"
At that moment, a 40s-something woman had just emerged from a sandwich shop. Having heard the exchange between the pizza delivery kid and myself, her face wore a shocked
expression. I looked directly at her, pointed and said, "He called me an old man!" Her mask of
shock transformed itself into one of amusement. Mirth consumed her. I hoped the pizza kid had heard, and I believe he did.
As something approaching another 10 minutes passed, we eventually secured a parking space, and did so respectfully, allowing an elderly woman to board her vehicle, check her makeup, adjust her rear view mirror, unwrap a chocolate, place her cellular telephone to her ear, light a cigarette and then at last back out of the space. My wife and I smiled pleasantly, of course, exuding patience.
Unable to let the incident with the pizza kid pass without an appropriate response on our part, after installing our vehicle, my wife and I headed to the pizza parlor, entered and asked to speak to the owner or manager. The delivery kid had apparently, by that time, already left with another stack of pizza boxes intended for home or business place destinations.
A 40-ish man appeared. "May I help you."
"I hope so," I said. "Your delivery driver treated us with extreme rudeness..." and I then related to him what had transpired between us just 10 or 15 minutes previously. My wife said, "If that kid is representative of your establishment's treatment of people generally, never mind older adults, you won't be in business much longer. I can't imagine recommending your place to people we know."
"I'm so very sorry," the man replied. "I'll certainly have words with him. Please accept my sincere apologies. This is an outrage, and I'll make certain it doesn't happen again. I hope you'll visit us again, but under pleasanter circumstances."
Back in the parking lot, I said to my wife, "Cheap jerk should have had the good grace to offer us a free pizza, at least a coupon or something. You know what I really wanted to say to that pizza kid: 'You snot-nosed pizza-faced jerk of a duck dropping...' something to that effect. Damn nasty little snip of a pizza pusher!"
My wife said, as if in a private musing, "Were we as disrespectful to older people in our younger days? Did we ever think how we'd want to be treated by the young at our age?"
"A fair question," I said. "I hope we were a bit more sensitive and caring, but I don't know..." and my thoughts trailed off to a plane of distant memory.
"Ah, but with advanced maturity," my wife added, "comes wisdom and restraint. I'm so proud of the way you handled things. Do you think we'll ever actually patronize that pizza place?" The question was loaded, as if with sardonic sausage.
Chuckling, I replied, "Are you kidding? It's possible they serve a large pie covered in black ants, centipedes and rabbit droppings. Besides, I'll only order pizza from our favorites, just the two of them, and you know who they are."
"Well," my wife said, we should always try to be patient and understanding. Maybe the pizza kid has an unhappy family life, a mean parent; he's having a lousy day to boot."
"F**k him," I said. We both laughed good naturedly as we ambled with slow deliberation toward our car, into a parking lot now glutted with impatient patrons, each circling like a vulture poised to strike, fiercely spying for a target to pounce.
Humbly Submitted / 04-07-14 -- JK
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