Before I begin, I would like to add the disclaimer that I'm not being age-ist here. There are plenty of truly delightful elderly characters who come through my line on a daily basis - the little old ladies buying cat food who chat with me about the names, eating habits, and markings of every cat they've ever had. The little old men who give me car advice, and the ancient couples who have been together since the depression and are still miraculously tolerant of each other. These people are great, but it wouldn't be southern Indiana if there weren't a plethora of crazies thrown into the mix.
I discovered pretty quickly that not all old people are the sweet, adorable grandparent-y types. In fact, most of them probably have no business being out in society at all. A majority of them don't say a word to me during the entire transaction, then turn around and complain to my supervisor that I was "rude" and didn't pay them enough attention. Oh, how I loathe hypocrites. Then there are people like the woman who told me I had beautiful hands and had better enjoy them before they are destroyed by arthritis. Or those who are so old they can't talk, or even close their mouth all the way. If I'm ever in this position, I think I'd prefer to be off somewhere meeting my maker instead of spending my time depressing innocent bystanders in Hell Mart. But that's just me.
Then there are the people who just break the mold, by literally shattering it to pieces. I encountered one such couple about a month ago. It's a Sunday night, I'm the only cashier, and the store is empty, when I am approached by an elderly couple.
"Hello, how are you tonight?" I ask, in a futile attempt to be friendly.
Silence. Why am I not surprised?
This couple was one of the most foreboding sights I had seen in awhile. They were both stick-thin, with shriveled little faces, dressed in all black, and looked as if they had just come from church. The woman's hair looked like a giant bird of prey sitting atop her head, just itching to peck my heathenish heart out of my chest. As they regarded me it was almost as if they could smell the sin wafting off me in waves, and I'm pretty sure the woman made a face as she looked at my name tag, as if having larger-than-average cleavage automatically makes me hell-bound.
Anyway, you get the picture. Which is why I was so shocked to look down and see that their entire purchase consisted of three - count 'em, THREE - boxes of KY Jelly. I was about to tell them, "Hey, we DO have something in common after all!" but decided it would be wisest to hold my tongue, lest the woman's bird-of-prey hair decided to attack me.
Omg, old people are the worst. I used to work at JoAnn Fabrics, and there is nothing scarier than an old lady on Black Friday with her heart set on crafting.
ReplyDeleteThen there was that one time we found an old woman hiding in the bathroom an hour after closing...
When it comes to retail, yes, I am an ageist.
You were right down the road from me then! Seems as though that side of town, and that shopping plaza specifically, attracts some interesting creatures.
ReplyDeleteAnd yes, sometimes you just have to be ageist. Certain people just shouldn't be out in society. Case in point.