Sir? Me? I Think Not…

 

In America, the average male lives to be 75.6 years old. As a 25-year-old, I plan on having many years left before I leave the impression of my butt in that great big comfy couch in the sky.

To most people, I would be considered young. I just became able to rent a car this year. Many people would still call me “kid” despite the fact that I am not either a child or a young goat. I have only been out of college for three years and have not yet reached the point where my body parts creek or groan when I move.

Apparently, not everyone received the memo that I am a vibrant young man.

I was at work when the young lady walked up to me. I was pretty sure I knew what she wanted. I do not mean to brag, but I am fairly certain that, had I not married, I would be at the top of literally thousands of eligible bachelor lists. Since I am married, you cannot prove me wrong, so deal with that.

“Excuse me. Could I use a pen?” she said. One of my many talents is sharing. I am a fantastic sharer so I handed her a nice BIC ballpoint. No way was she touching my black clicky pen. That is my pen and I make no apologies for it. She might steal it or, at the very least, get it all germed up. I may be a great sharer, but I am not an idiot.

She quickly used the pen, then handed it back to me. As I reached up, it came out of her mouth.

“Thanks, sir.”

Sir? I looked behind me to see who was there. Maybe a respected and distinguished person had stepped behind me and she was thanking him for some sort of unrelated thing. Perhaps she had misspoken, meaning so say, “Thanks… certainly you are a great person,” but accidentally stopping midway through the second word.

I was a bit thrown off. I frequently call females of any age (and sometimes even my dog) “ma’am.” Sir, though, seems to set off a certain connotation, that connotation being, “You look like you’re my dad’s age.” I did not feel like I was much older than this young lady. To confirm this, I asked a coworker her age.

She was 24. For those keeping score at home, that is only one year younger than me!

I immediately felt insecure. In my mind, I felt crow’s feet pop up around my eyes. In fact, I had wrinkles everywhere. My face looked like a very pale baseball glove that had been buried in dirt for the last fifteen years then run over by a series of rampaging elephants. I immediately balded and I knew for a fact that I was beginning to get liver spots on my face.

I needed a way to be young and fast. Literally every second I waited, I was getting older.

I thought about extensive plastic surgery. A chin lift and some cheek implants would turn that clock all the way back to 2011 when I was just a 24-year-old kid. Maybe some Botox. I never really enjoyed facial expressions anyway.

I could get some hair plugs and a personal trainer. Spend some time tanning. Hire a stylist In a few short months, I would look like this:

 

After putting that much effort into looking like this, do you really think I would button my shirt up all the way?

Then I calculated up the cost. It turns out looking like that would cost me somewhere around $85,000. It may be hard to believe, but I do not have that just lying around.

I guess I have no choice but to continue to age until, one day, I croak. That is how life works. I guess looking incredibly old has its benefits. For instance, I will be able to get the senior citizen’s discount at 30. By the time I am 40, I will probably look old enough that I can convince someone I am old enough to retire and that they should pay me pension. Who will argue with a 95-year-old man anyway?

Yes, premature aging has its advantages. Besides, it finally gives me a reason to complain about today’s youths. They are far too raucous and upsetting.

Especially the ones who call me “sir.”

 

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18 thoughts on “Sir? Me? I Think Not…

  1. Alright Nathan, since Roly is loaning you those things, I can let your borrow my EMS. It’s awesome! You should get some of those incontinence pads too. Think of all the time you will save if you don’t have to use a real bathroom.

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  2. I’m fortunate enough to have “grayed” early. This started in my mid 20’s. (easily remedied by visits to my hair stylist every 6 weeks.)

    However, now being out of work a few years, I don’t have funds to keep up hair styling (dying of hair)- so I’ve graciously accepted my appearance of “advanced” aging. (Okay, I’m 41) but still… those grays are popping up over-night and I’m soon to be looking 70! When I said “graciously accepting this,” that means, I no longer look at myself in mirrors. If I don’t see them, they don’t exist, right? They are “highlights” from the sun!

    Sandi (Oh, yeah, did ya miss me? I’m only back momentarily. Kids are still on summer break…and they are breaking me! Ugh!)

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    • SANDI!

      What I do is find a picture of a much better looking person (really, anybody) and hang their picture up. Then I pretend that picture is my reflection. I like to be ignorant about some things.

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  3. Kids these days, no respect! Why, I bet when you were a more youthful 24, you knew your Ps and Qs, not to mention having to walk 20 miles, UPHILL, in the snow, to get your education so many (3) years ago. PAH!

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    • You have no idea how many snowy hills I walked up. Actually, come to think of it, I may just have an inner ear problem that makes the world seem like it is slanted. Kansas, after all, has no hills.

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  4. Interesting that you think it’s okay to call women of any age ma’am, but you’re too young to be called sir? Don’t you know that we women consider ma’am the age equivalent of being called sir, and makes us feel old too? Unfortunately for you men, there is no equivalent title for miss – if you are male you get called sir, or hey you.

    Perhaps your pen borrower grew up in the south, where people are taught manners and call everyone sir or ma’am. Or perhaps she was former military – again, everyone is sir or ma’am. Maybe instead of whining about feeling old you should be grateful to know that there are still young people out there with good manners 😉 But in the meantime, just in case, better get the walker.

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  5. Oooh, I had the same sensation when, back in my days, I was asked by some ‘real’ kids what time it was. I was probably 17 or so and felt incredibly old.

    I think there are definitely advantages to children having their own watches, mobile phones or iPods to tell them the time. Brave new world.

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