I got to the theater, and I decided to buy a ticket from the ticket clerk (I feel kind of sorry for them these days — most people just use the credit card kiosk things).
I gave him my cash, and he gave me a ticket, and a couple more pieces of paper. I was a little early, so I sat down in the lobby area for a few minutes. I looked at the pieces of paper. Some sort of advertising for the theater chain’s website. And then I looked at the ticket.
I hadn’t requested a senior ticket, and the clerk hadn’t asked. He’d obviously just taken one look at me and called it.
Actually, if the dividing line for “senior” is 65, I’m not even there yet.
Which may make it worse.
Coming next time: another aspect of growing older. One that isn’t really so bad.