Growing Old (Or: Our tea cup / Is getting filled up / So we'll never have to dread / Getting old)

We interrupt this work-related series of posts to bring you a contemplation on aging.

I know it's obnoxious for a 24 year old to even mention this since she's only two years out of college, seven weeks and three days into marriage, and has only one white hair to her name, but I don't care.

Garrett and I have some good friends. We all realized just how old we're beginning to feel when over the course of several months we caught ourselves making old people choices and talking about old people things.

Scene One

The set-up: 

After spending an entire week working, five of us gather together to rejuvenate before the next week.

We have all gone to church and listened with interest during a New-Comer's class that consisted of theology, history, and grace, then moved upstairs for the actual service and communion. Afterwards we socialized briefly, and at the opening of this scene have returned to our friends' home for the night.

Brittney and I have decided to make a wild evening of it and have each downed a shot of Triple Sec. We are now sipping on berry-flavoured hard lemonades and cooking a low-carb, paleo-approved dinner, and discussing many aspects of life, including (but not limited to) making church home decisions, and what is the best way to pay off debt quickly. We also imbibe large glasses of water to ensure hydration.

The three men are all outside, grouped around the grille on the front porch smoking cigars and grilling a hunk of lean and seasoned venison to perfection. They are keeping the noise down for the sake of the neighbours.

The men enter the kitchen, stage right.

"Looks like you've been having fun in here," Garrett observes to Brittney and I while Dan plates up the meat and Trevor sets the table."What did you two talk about?"

"Sex," say Brittney and I, attempting to look young and frisky.

"Is that all you ever talk about?" Dan says. We hear a guffaw, and then a cough from the dining room.

"No! Well, what'd you all talk about, then?" I ask.

"Mortages," Garrett says.

Scene Two

We decide we're going to have a rip-roaring, irresponsible weekend together. 

Scene Three

Two people give up the Minecrafting party around midnight, citing a usual bedtime of 10pm. The rest give up shortly thereafter, citing responsibilities beginning again in the morning.

Scene Four

 We wake up, shuffle downstairs, and among five of us we are able to complain about somebody's arthritis acting up, two chronic headaches, three sore backs, and four-to-five different levels of tiredness. Somebody (me) has incredibly sore calves because she forgot she wasn't in as good shape as she used to be, and ran up and down too many flights of stairs two days before. We all exchange commiseration and remedy recommendations over a breakfast of eggs, pancakes, and orange juice. By this time the coffee has finally begun to kick in and somebody asks if this is what being old feels like. 

So you see, we are not old yet, but we are beginning to show signs. But I'm okay with that, because I've got some great people to grow old with.

Here are two songs to cheer you up if you're old already, to encourage you if you're starting to feel age creeping up, or to give you more pleasure at the thought of aging if you are so young you haven't noticed aging's effects yet. 

 From still-young whippersnappers like us.

From guys who know what's up. 

Happy birthday to Trevor S. (today), Garrett (Valentine's day), Brittney S. (January), me (December), and Dan S.* . . . whenever his birthday is. It's not on Facebook. Thanks for making that so easy, Dan.

*Trevor, Dan, and Brittney all happen to have last names that begin with S; Dan and Brittney are married to each other, Trevor is not married to either of them. Sorry for the confusion.

My experiences are many and varied

I've been thinking about work and dreaming about work and just generally obsessing about work. I need a job both for the money, and for my psychological well-being. I'm finally getting some headway, which is relieving.
I thought, though, it might be fun to share with you some brief summaries of the jobs I have had. Perhaps some will resonate with you.

Enjoy.

Babysitting

What else can a young teen girl do to earn some money? Homeschoolers have a great advantage in this market by already knowing families with children of all ages and parents so frazzled they somehow forget how irresponsible they were at age 13 and consent to let a young teen girl care for their infants. 

 

They did sometimes ask me amusing questions. 

I did not particularly care for babysitting as a job because I do not particularly care for children. Also you are put in the terrible position of being unable to discipline the kids, which leaves you essentially helpless if the devil takes one. One particularly memorable experience I had began with a child refusing to pick up his toys before dinner, climaxed when I found him pantsless and peeing on a mattress out of spite, and ended with his heaving a heavy metal piggy bank at his year-old sister. When called, the parents wearily said they'd take care of it when they got home. 

In retrospect, either they actually did, or God chucked a bucketful of grace on that hellion, because I met him again a few years ago and liked him enormously.

Fast food

This is pretty much the job most people rag on if they're going to rag on jobs: neither the job nor the workers are respected.

 

Probably defaced by pimply-faced adolescent boys 

with iphone5s and no jobs themselves.

In actuality, my fast food experience (I didn't work at Wendy's) was pleasant. I worked there for about two years (until second semester of college) and had good co-workers and good managers. The customers were mostly laid-back, everyday people who just wanted a burger. Sometimes they wanted chicken nuggets. 

Sometimes they asked questions like this about said chicken nuggets.

But there really is something to say about a job that doesn't take itself too seriously. Nobody walked in expecting blue plate specials or their mussels to taste not-too-fishy but still fishy enough. Our customers were mostly construction workers on breaks, retired people, and Amish workers (the latter all extremely slim and packing away the most calorie-laden of our offerings). People were polite in a friendly, though not differential, way, I got hit on a lot (thanks to the retirees), my managers trusted me, and I had money to put in the bank.

In addition, I now know the inner workings of fast-food restaurants and can try to prevent anger in customers. For instance, I often hear people complaining that their food is taking forever to make, yet none of the cashiers are going back to help--rather, they just stand up front, doe-eyed, waiting to ring up another customer. 

Do you know why they aren't back there helping? Because do you KNOW how many germs are on money? No, you do not. And if you did, you would never want to touch money ever again.You absolutely do not want that cashier taking your money, and the money of the guy in front of you who just picked his nose, and the money of the teen girl behind you with all the piercings and strange rash on her arm, and then going and handling your sandwich. 

 

These are the bacterial colonies that sprang up after 4 days 

when your run-of-the-mill dollar bill had some ager gel (a nutrient-filled goo)  

smeared on it to feed what was already on the bank note.

Rules in fast food restaurants are very strict that cashiers stay up front and don't touch the food. To go back and help would require them to go back, wash their hands for a minute, put on gloves, get in the way of people already making your food, then abandon that post immediately when someone else walks into the store, wash their hands again, and make it back up front before the new person gets pissed at not being waited on sooner.

So please be patient with them.

Anyways, with my next job I still had the money (and was making more), but not the laid-back friendliness inherent in my stint with fast-food. I worked...

Retail 

(coming soon to a blog near you).