Recently I took refuge in an uber trendy coffee shop in Cape Town CBD. The rain was belting down, it was cold, and coffee was the answer. The place was packed, and I had to wait for a table. To my surprise, the hostess offered me a chair, so I could sit and wait. Okay. Very nice of her. I appreciate random acts of kindness.
Let it be noted that I wasn’t complaining about having to stand and wait for a table. And although ancient, I do not go around with a Zimmer frame, cane and guide dog. Nor am I decked out in snooty twin set and pearls, shod in brogues. I’m wearing leggings, long sleeved tees, scarves and coats like everybody else. Note to self: to update ancient image I obviously need to buy a pair of high-tops a.s.a.p. Clearly my Skechers are not cutting it.
When I was finally led to a table, the pert little waitress was solicitous, and finished every verbal exchange by patting me tenderly on the back. I began to feel like an elderly Labrador who’d wandered in from the rainy day, seeking refuge. Or possibly I’ve been reclassified as a National Treasure, a la the Japanese. Anybody over 90 years in Japan is automatically awarded National Treasure status. A great idea, by the way.
I finally worked it out: I was the only person in the place not glued to my Smartphone or laptop. Dead giveaway. Pensioner Alert: beep-baa, beep-baa. And, P.S. the cute little waitress tried to con me out of my change when I paid for my coffee. I gave her the beady eyeball and growled: Make a plan, sisi! She reluctantly gave me my change. Bah! Don’t mess with Senior Citizens! Like Labradors, they’re inclined to bite.