Old-Timer Status

The suspicion is dawning on me that I am not as young as I have been thinking that I am.

A few weeks ago, I was on a work trip out of town.  When I checked into the hotel, the front desk gave me a key card.  Nothing out of the ordinary, although I remember when they gave you actual keys to hotel rooms instead of a plastic card.  I went up to my room, put my bags down in front of the door, and stared at the lock. It was different.  It didn't have any slot to slide your card through.  It was just a black block. 

I'm going to admit it here for your amusement.  I tried to slide that plastic card through a key card slot that didn't exist.

After a few seconds of trial and error, I figured out how it works: you touch the sensor with the card! I mastered technology and I didn't even have to call one of my teenagers for assistance!

Several of my co-workers are talking about retiring.  I still have several years of work ahead of me, but people I've worked with for years are, one by one,  announcing their retirements.  One day I commented on all these old timer retirements to another co-worker, who is about my age.

You know what that means, he replied.  You and I are now the old-timers. 

He's absolutely right. When the new hires were born after you graduated from college and you remember using dot-matrix printers, Polaroid cameras, and bag phones, you are definitely eligible for old-timer status.

A few months ago, I went to the department store makeup counter to buy the moisturizer I like to use.  I don't wear any makeup at all, so I just needed the moisturizer.  The woman at the counter studied me for a minute.

You know, she said, as we get older, sometimes we need to revisit our skin care routine.  Your face looks a little red. Maybe you need a different concealer.  And some night cream to refresh your skin.  What is your night routine, currently?

Oh, I said.  I don't care about that red.  It's either rosacea or sunburn.  Or both.  She seemed offended that I didn't appear too excited about the idea of a new concealer.  My philosophy on makeup is this: I'd rather sleep for 15 more minutes than apply makeup in the morning.  I didn't tell her that my night routine consists of packing my lunch, brushing my teeth and making sure my iPhone is charging; that might have sent her over the edge. 

That's also how I know I am getting old: once, I would have suffered through the concealer tutorial and felt compelled to buy something.  Now, I don't care.  That's another aspect of getting older: you figure out what to care about and what not to care about.  Caring about what other people think I should wear or do with my skin as I get older, for example? Nope, not caring. 

I have other, more important things to think about, like my family, explaining the 1980's to kids born in 1993, and retirement planning.  I'm not getting any younger, you know.