Senior's Discount

I knew I'd qualify for a senior's discount eventually, I just never thought it'd be so soon.

As the snow melted in 2020, people streamed away from workplaces and tucked themselves in their homes. I did the opposite and got a job in a food production facility.

They needed temporary help cooking and jarring jellies. I figured it'd be easy work and I was right. Sorting out red peppers and cranberries, checking to make sure the labels were straight, and boxing jars, it was the easiest job I'd ever done.

Except it was remarkably hard on my body.

The combination of cement floors and steel toed shoes wreaked havoc on the arthritis in my back and knees. The company did provide squishy standing mats, but not the higher quality ones. To be fair, it was better than standing on cardboard which I'd done at a previous job.

Holding and twisting jars strained my hands and wrists as well. A new spot of arthritis made itself known, right at the base of my thumb. This made grabbing the jars difficult on some days so I learned how to pick them up with as little pain as possible.

A few days into the job I realized my pants didn't quite fit. They were okay, but snug around the middle. By the end of the workday I was grumpy and irritable at the pinching of my belly so I decided to buy new pants.

With all the changes going on in the world, fitting rooms were closed in stores. Pants never really fit my barrel frame which made it frustrating to try to find a pair that would be comfortable for work. Rather than pay a lot of money that I didn't have for pants that might not fit, I went to Goodwill.

The drive was only two minutes from work but my body had already begun to stiffen up. I hobbled out of the car and into the store where I was immediately greeted with cramped aisles blocked by people with carts. Just find the pants and get out, I thought while trying to keep the irritation contained.

I had to squint to see the sizes which brought more annoyance. I grabbed a few pairs that were a size or two larger than what I was wearing and toddled to the till. My gnarled fingers ached around the bundle and my spongy knees barely kept me upright while I waited in line. I should invest in a cane, I thought.

Once called forward I squeezed past another customer to get to the available till while wondering how we can possibly social distance if the tills were set up this way. My brow furrowed as I held my breath and limped to the right spot. The cashier rang up the purchase and I paid, vaguely wondering if I'd read the tags wrong because the amount was noticeably less than it should have been.

I shuffled back to the car and noted how the world was blurry. I went to adjust my glasses and realized I was still wearing the ones with the safety shields on the sides. My good glasses, the progressive lenses in the more updated frames, were still in my work bag in the car. I'd been in a rush to leave and had forgotten to switch them.

With a grunt of relief I settled into the driver's seat and caught sight of myself in the rear view mirror.

My hair, once deemed 'spun gold', is now sprinkled with white. I don't mind it. I like the small brush of white at my temple and the glinting throughout.

But I'd worn a hairnet all day. Now my hair was akimbo from me running my fingers through it after it being flattened under the cap. The swish of white was prominent, as was the thinning spot on my other temple. I looked like someone who couldn't be bothered to maintain a pleasant appearance in public. Perhaps someone that finger-combed their hair instead of using a comb. Teenage Me cringed but Present Me shrugged. The image was accurate and it's not like I was a fashion plate even on my best days.

My hair, combined with my safety glasses, made me look older than I felt. The combination was enhanced by my saggy face.

I have fine lines over my forehead and crow's feet tickling my eyes, but for a bit over fifty, I've regularly been mistaken for a decade younger. Not that day though. That day I was every minute of my age, plus some. The pain in my knees, hands, and back helped carve the lines to deeper grooves and the irritation made my face scrunch up like a crumpled tissue.

A sneaking suspicion crept into my belly as I changed my glasses to the better prescription. I snatched the receipt and read it over.

There it was, near the bottom: “Senior's Discount 15%”.

My heart sank a bit. I didn't think I looked that old. Another glance in the mirror and a sigh of resignation punched out of me. Better to look on the bright side, I thought. I'm seasoned enough to get discounts now.