Monday night, I stopped off at a local diner for dinner by myself. I love sitting down alone with a newspaper at the end of a demanding day and having someone else make food appear in front of me. And this diner in particular has the most delicious walnut and raisin pancakes. Yum-tacular!
So I read the paper, ate my pancakes, paid my bill, and left—then looked at the bill as I slipped it into my purse once I got in the car.
I had been given the senior discount!
Mostly it cracked my up, though I found myself wondering if work had left me looking particularly brow-beaten or something. Yes, I have grey at the temples, yes, I’m overweight—but I’m only just slipping past my mid-forties. Saving $1.10 is nice, but I’m afraid the cost to my self-concept may have been a bit high. (And I didn’t even have any knitting with me on which to blame my perceived old-ladiness.)