Ten Signs That I’m Old

by Thomas M. Pender

10)          I miss letter writing and visiting people in person

9)            I can’t name a single song that’s been released since 1990

8)            Trips to the doctor mainly consist of questions about “odd things” that are happening

7)            My oldest called me this week, just to check in and see if I was doing okay

6)            The conspicuous presence of gray hairs and lack of blond hairs in the sink when I cut my hair

5)            “Why the hell did I come into this room?” crosses my mind way too often

4)            If I have to bend down to pick something up, there is always a two-second debate in my head about how much I really need it

3)            I’ve started considering checking out the Large Print section of the bookstore

2)            Every day, waitresses look less and less unsure as they ask me if I’m a senior

and

1)            Movie theatre = comfy chair + darkness + climate control = nap!

10% Discount Per Lie

by Thomas M. Pender

By the time I was ten years old, I was aware of this uncanny ability I had for . . . telling stories, shall we say?  (That sounds a lot better than “lying my ass off,” right?)  I could make stuff up with incredible detail while maintaining the straightest of faces, and I liked it.  I always said that the world should be grateful that I never used my powers for evil.  I could have been a phenomenal criminal, if I chose to be.

Luckily, I only used such skills for fun.  I never really lied, I always bullshat.  The difference . . . and yes, I did sit down and figure out the difference! . . . is that when you lie, you tell someone something that you know is not true, and you hope they don’t find out.  When you b.s., you tell someone something that you know is not true, and you hope they do find out!  After all, it’s no fun if they don’t know.

So, I’ve spent decades having fun with the truth, and if my “victims” didn’t figure it out, I’d just tell ‘em.  Not long ago, I told a completely ridiculous whopper, and I was gonna get away with it.  On top of that, I was given the opportunity to tell an even bigger “nontruth,” and that, too, was accepted.  For the hat trick, it saved me some food money!

I’m in my mid-forties, so I’m old enough looking to get questions like “are you senior?”  I always laughed these questions off and said “no.”  Then, just to be funny (initially), the last time the waitress asked “Are you over fifty?” with her pen hovering over my bill, I channeled Jon Lovitz’s “Pathological Liar” character, and said, “Yeeeeeeees.  Yes, I am!”  I laughed, the lady with the bill laughed, and even the lady putting my drink on the table laughed.  Instead of that ending the joke, the waitress then asked, “Are you over sixty?”  Thinking she was just playing along, I went ahead and replied, “Yeeeeeeees.  Yes, I am!”

I didn’t know until the bill came that I had received a 20% senior citizen discount, or as I like to mathemitize it, 10% off per lie.  In such strained economic times, this is a golden egg.  To my knowledge, no eating establishments actually ask for identification outside of legal drinking age.  Understanding this, being old enough to be suspected of being a senior citizen is a bit of a blessing!  From now on, I won’t even hear them ask, “Are you over 50?” or “Are you over 60?”  To me, it will sound like “Would you like a free 10% off your bill today, sir?” and “Would you like another free 10% off your bill, sir?”

Yeeeeeeees.  Yes, I would!