In which I become an old lady at (almost) 21.

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

I’ve mentioned before that I coach high school debate (part time), so I tend to have a pretty high tolerance for the idiocy that is teenagers. That said, I’m 21. Should I even recognize this threshold? Probably not, but on to my story:

The shopping center that our office is in has had a few problems with smokers and smoking in recent times (I pitted that fat, actually), so I’ve made myself uber aware of the goings on of the butts and such. I don’t want the owners of the building mad, but more importantly, I don’t want our clients thinking this is some sleazy place.

So I’m downstairs at the Bbq place ordering some lunch when I notice some kids (about 15 years old, two boys) walking through the shopping center, laughing, and looking generally pretty suspicious. I mean, it was 11 AM on a Wednesday- they ought to be at the high school that is down the block. I notice them walk by the ashtray, fish through it, then rush over to the elevator, huddled around something. I watch them as they get in the elevator and then realize that I need to go back upstairs anyway.

Taking the stairs, I got up to the top at the same time as they did. The elevator doors open up, out comes giggling, smoke, and a flung butt that’s still smoking. I glare. The boys rush out and stop dead in their tracks, realizing I just witnessed their idiocy.

Me: “Excuse me, can you please not smoke in the elevator. For one, that’s tremendously rude, but it’s also illegal and dangerous.”
Boy 1 (giggling): “It was all him!”
Me: “Nifty. Now, are two planning on picking up this trash you just threw on our floor? I mean, that’s pretty disgusting.”

They stare at me.

Me: “Ok, well I mean, I suppose I could call the cops.” Their eyes got huge. “I imagine they’d be interested in the fact that there are two boys here that are clearly ditching school and smoking. Oh hell, you two are smoking in an elevator too. I know those are three fairly bad things in the eyes of the cops.”

With big eyes, they scramble to pick up the butt and throw it in the ashtray. Then they apologize, calling me ma’am and saying they’ll leave right away. They did.

I about died laughing. I mean, when the hell did I become a cranky old woman?

No, you can’t have your frisbee back!!! Stay the hell out of my yard!!! * rocks in rocking chair with 50 cats. . . and shot gun * :smiley:

2

Pitted that fact, obviously. Bah. If there was one day where I could post a thread without an error, this world would be a better place. There’d be a cure for cancer, peace in the middle east, free plasma TVs for everyone!

3

No, dear, you’re not an old woman. You just have a bigger brain than a 15-year-old boy. Or, in fact, two 15-year-olds. Which may sound like a huge compliment until one considers the behavior of 15-year-olds.

(Except for my favorite niece. She is both 15 and perfect.)

(Yes, I’m sure that sentence will come back to bite me soon.)

4

I was 27 the first time some little punk in a record store called me “sir” in THAT voice.

Right now, he’s tied to a concrete block in a riverbed. Somewhere.

5

My department chair once defined “old” as the point at which you realise that your students aren’t attractive at all, but some of their mom’s are hot! :smiley:
You should have dragged them to the Security Office by their ears. That’d learn 'em.

6

Eh, I thought some of the students’ moms were hot when I was in high school. I’ve always been mature. :slight_smile:

7

YOU get the hell off MY lawn! I’m going to be 32 on the 29th (100,000 in binary :eek: )

Anyway, way to go on preventing an act of idiocy.

8

First time I got called ma’am (well, adressed in the usted form, which is the equivalent for Spain) I was 12. OK; I’d grown sideways a lot recently and wasn’t wearing my school uniform but it was still a bit traumatic.

When I turned 23, one of my uncles declared “ah, you’re a legal adult now!” “uh, I’ve been one for 5 years” “well, I mean by the standards of when I grew up, you know”. And my father: “careful with the memory loss, old man, our legal age was twentyONE.”

9

Good on you- you did well. And I love the bit about the rocking chair- and especially the typo. Made the post more human. :slight_smile:

10

I’m going to be 29 in a week. Twenty nine. That’s almost 30!

I can’t believe it. Where did my 20s go? I still feel like a kid, fer chrissake.

Life is weird.

11

At work I have to yell at people who are sometimes twice my age (I’m 22), and they call me Sir. It weirds me out too.

12

People never call me sir. I think it’s because of the boobs. :smiley:

I don’t really mind “ma’am” unless it’s in that nasal tone and comes with the look. I’m sort of used to it because in Quebec I get “Madame” all the time when I’m shopping, since “mademoiselle” is slowly fading out.