Where's My FU Senior Discount??

Welp, I got another senior discount last week. YEET!

If this were an isolated incident, I would say someone made a boo boo. But this is the SECOND TIME this has happened in the PAST TWO MONTHS.

The first time was in August at Michael’s. Albert and I were picking up a Sharpie to draw on his mom’s headstone. A game of tic-tac-toe? No, silly. My MFIL was super cranky in life, and would NOT be a ghost you'd want to prank. We weren’t desecrating her grave, I swear.

There was a typo on her grave marker. OOPSIE!

It’s not as outrageous as it seems. You see, the typo was on her Chinese name. And nobody noticed except my father-in-law. Which is kind of a miracle because he hardly notices anything else in the WHOLE WORLD unless it is playing on the television VERY LOUDLY. The missing mark is such a subtle little stroke that I doubt anyone would notice, even if they knew how to read Chinese.

When Albert and I were engaged, we took a trip to Hong Kong with my parents to buy wedding invitations, a wedding dress, and party favors. Thinking back, this seems terribly extravagant. Nintendo GameBoys were just invented, and Albert and I took turns playing Super Mario on the plane ride for, like, fifteen hours. It was awesome. Just for the record, zero of my children should expect any pre-nuptial overseas trips. Sorrynotsorry.

Anyhow, when we were getting the wedding invitations printed, my parents weren’t sure how to “spell” Albert’s last name.

In English, it’s easy. F-U.

In Chinese it’s more complicated:

But my parents weren’t completely sure. It’s kind of like meeting a new friend named Mikayla. There are literally 180+ different ways to spell this name and there is no way of knowing which one is right. This puts you in a terribly awkward position, because some people get torqued if you misspell their names. And having it misspelled ON YOUR OWN WEDDING INVITATION might be a problem that haunts you forever.

So my parents couldn’t figure out whether it was

And get this! ALBERT DIDN’T KNOW EITHER! Now, Albert knows a LOT of things. He’s detail-oriented like it’s going out of style. But there are several things that he DOESN’T know about, such as Sports, Kardashians, and Chinese writing. These things are irrelevant and take up brain space that can be used for "relevant” things like calculus and dentistry.

This was 1991 before cellphones, so we couldn’t just call and ask the OG-Fus how to write their name. And the Internet WAS BARELY EVEN A THING! Can you fathom such an uncivilized world??

My parents asked the printer. He wasn’t sure. The printer asked other guys in the shop. They weren’t sure either. THERE ARE SERIOUSLY SO MANY CHINESE PEOPLE IN HONG KONG. Why was this hard??

OK, what was I even talking about….

Oh, yeah. The typo on my MFIL’s grave marker. After my father-in-law noticed it last spring, it started driving him bananas like when you get a blueberry seed stuck right in that little triangular space between the base of your two back molars. He considered trying to chisel the correction into the marble himself. He considered removing the marker and having the whole thing redone.

Albert was trying REALLY HARD to find a sensible solution to this snag without opening up a can of worms. Although I can really think of no better place than a cemetery for an open can of worms....

"Why don't you use a Sharpie?" I asked him. He thought I was joking, but Sharpies and duct tape can fix just about anything. Look how I spruced up our mailbox plate with a metallic gold Sharpie.

I have also used Sharpies to touch up paint on my cars. And mask scratches on furniture. And cover up bleach drips on clothes. And retouch my grey roots.

Oh, yes, I DID.

That metallic silver Sharpie did a great job on the grave marker! It only required the tiniest stroke, smaller than a grain of rice! PLUS I got a senior discount. This surprised me AND made me mad.

I was so mad that I took the money and ran! Hmmph. I figured it was a mistake. My kind-hearted friends presumed that Michael’s might have a VERY YOUNG senior discount. I looked it up. It’s 55. Which isn’t as horrifying as possible, since I was 51½ at the time. BUT STILL. I'm no Julia Roberts, but I like to think that I’m a graceful 51½ and look nowhere near 55.

My sister speculated that it might have been because Albert was with me. He’s 53 and has a head of thick silver hair. No Sharpie root retouching for him! But Albert was NOT at Whole Foods this past week when I got ANOTHER senior discount.

“Did you ASK for one?” Well, no. I had never considered asking for a senior discount. I certainly wouldn’t be having all these feelings if I had asked for one and someone simply gave it to me, now, would I?

Why do seniors even GET discounts anyhow? I kind of understand it at a restaurant, because some older people just don’t eat as much. Like little kids get restaurant discounts. Makes sense.....A TINY bit. Because leftovers, you know? And if you wrap leftovers up in foil shaped like an animal, nobody cares if you pay a little bit more.

You know who should get discounts at restaurants? People who chew with their mouths closed and don't show their toes or buttcracks. And people who smell good and don't talk too loud.

Our family gets military discounts sometimes, which is a cool gesture of appreciation for service. I got a student discount when I visited the Philadelphia Art Museum this summer! Fair nuff. Students are usually strapped.

But why seniors? They have had lots of time to earn and save. Their dependents are no longer relying on them if all went well. My grandma was the one who was always slipping me a twenty on the sly. So what’s the deal?

Probably just makes them happy.

Who am I calling “them??” DISCOUNTS MAKE ME HAPPY!!

I’ve decided to embrace this. I’m not certain why I got these discounts, but I’ve saved four bucks so far! That’s enough to put a spring in my step.....with the generic fiber supplement I can treat myself to now!

I don’t look old. More importantly, I don’t FEEL old. I take care of myself but you won’t see me lining up for a facelift. Why? The same reason I only considered a boob job for about thirty seconds after my children ruined my rack: I’m a big chicken.

These are painful, serious surgeries! I’ll happily live with comfortable wrinkles and saggy boobs. I DO kind of wish there were such a thing as that leg extending surgery from the movie “GATACA,” however.

Oops, I got off track again. Senior discounts. Right.

In contrast, I also got carded last week at Flying Pie Pizzeria when buying a pitcher of cider. Albert and I were there with my 21-year-old son, so it KIND of seems reasonable. I ordered the pitcher, and the fellow behind the counter says, "Can I see some IDs?"

Alex pulled out his ID, the fellow scrutinized it, and then turned to me expectantly. "You want to see MY ID, too?" Yes, he did.

I waited patiently as he took careful note of my birth date. Perhaps he was doing a little mental calculation and became confounded when he deduced that I have been of legal drinking age for 31 years SINCE NINETEEN EIGHTY-EIGHT when a movie ticket cost $3.50 and Madonna was desperately seeking Susan. Come on-come on-come-on! I'm waaaaaiiiiit-ing!

Then we hit a sna-FU! Albert had left his wallet at home! Momentary panic ensued until the fellow behind the counter said to Albert, "Oh, nah. YOU'RE fine."

Maybe I should have shown him my license AND THEN demanded a senior discount.

I wish you all a wonderful week, my friends!

Thanks for reading!
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