Today I met my favorite gambling aunt for lunch at Pizza Hut. I had the Personal Pan Supreme with no pepperoni, and she had a Personal Pan Supreme with no olives or green peppers, and the salad bar. I don't trust myself with a salad bar, because even though you might think it's JUST SALAD...there's a lot more tasty stuff than lettuce up there.
Anyhoo...the topic today is NOT what food Auntie and I had for lunch. Sweet Gummi Mary! You'd think I was obsessed with food or something! No, the topic is the delicate subject of a lady's age. Let's not forget that just a handful of years ago, one of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's students guessed her age as 35. So...even though she's retired now, Mrs. HM is not giving out the exact number of rings you might find if you cut her open. NOTE: Please do not cut Mrs. Hillbilly Mom open.
It's not that my age is a secret, you see. Most people who matter in my life know the tally. But that doesn't mean that I have to advertise it. A lady must have a certain mystique about her, you see.
Auntie is no lady!
She's always carrying on about so-and-so and such-and-such, and asks if I know people and happenings, and then maybe she'll say, "Oh, no. You won't remember that. You're too young." Or she might say, "Remember how it was back then! Things sure have changed."
When the bills came (yes, we pay separately, unless we're at the casino, where I buy her lunch as thanks for the ride), Auntie was comparing prices of the Personal Pan alone, and with the salad combo. Then she said, "HM, you can get the senior discount, you know."
Huh. I never thought about it. But I'm sure I COULD. The bill was already rung up, though. So I just got out the tip, and didn't think any more about it. We sat and talked a while. Actually, we should not have gotten any discount, and should probably have paid rent, because were were at that table over 2.5 hours. But it's not like they were busy and needed the space.
As I was paying at the counter, Auntie finished hounding our waitress to put her sweet tea in a take-out cup, and came to stand beside me.
"What is your age for the senior discount?" she asked loudly. Everything Auntie says is said loudly. And not because she's hard-of-hearing, because she's not. She's just one of those outgoing people.
The girl told her, and Auntie said, "WELL! Then she should get the discount! She's [REDACTED]!
Yes. I got the senior discount. It's almost as depressing as that first time a convenience store clerk refers to you as "Ma'am."