I’m 57 yrs old and usually bike to and from work (10 km round trip) or bike to and from work (35 km round trip with a big detour for the exercise), though occassionally I’ll take the bus. On a few of my bus occassions people have offerred me their seat.
When I was in the navy (Canadian, so not a big navy like the USN or the RN) I was doing a few days of project work in an office I had been posted to about 20 years ago. The unit Chief Petty Officer at that time was the son of the unit Chief Petty Officer when I worked there 20 years earlier.
Yesterday I rode the bus to the last stop, right outside the library. I was the only passenger left, and I remarked to the young black male bus driver “I feel like Miss Daisy.”
He did not have a clue what I was talking about. Probably thought I was a senile old white lady until I told him about the movie.
A couple of weeks ago I actually yelled at a little kid to get off my lawn. That was an amusing and bizarre experience. I didn’t chase him with a broom or even shake my fist at him, but I sure told him to get the hell off my lawn. He was picking up my Zombie Gnomes and throwing them on the ground. That I cannot abide.
It’s not when the police officers look about 16, and it’s not when they start calling you “sir” - it’s when you take it for granted that they damn well should (and get a haircut, while they’re at it).
When someone says they “grew up with” shows that didn’t come out until I was in college. As far as I’m concerned, if you were a kid when Ghostbusters came out you’re still a kid.
At work we take turns plugging our iPhones into the boom box to play music, and when my turn comes up I feel like some old man playing 78 records on a gramophone.
The management at my company is far worse than me, though. One manager still uses a desktop calculator that prints out results like a cash register receipt. When we calculate long distance milage, some people use a thirty year old AAA book that has milage between all cities in California. Up until last year, 20 freaking 15, the whole company was using an AS400 system. For those who don’t know, that’s the old monochrome monitors with green text. It was so old, I think our IT was outsourced to an Amish community. The corporation that bought us out a few years ago finally made us switch to something more modern, and people still act like victims of a war crime, since the AS400 “worked just fine!”
Going out in public and seeing middle-aged adults with visible tattoos.
Scrupulously avoiding looking at attractive women in public for longer than a nanosecond, because to them I’m an icky, gross old guy.
Hearing people burst out laughing at the sight of an old cell phone.
Looking in the mirror.
Yeah, especially this. “I grew up with Star Wars!” is the one that really grates on me.
Almost forgot this one: Walking into Barnes & Noble and seeing brand-new, shrinkwrapped LP records for sale. I never thought I’d live long enough to see that.
And the hipsters are paying $20-30 for surgical-quality superheavy vinyl.
Crucial to have perfect reproduction to catch every tonal nuance of The Ramones or The Clash…
I have a student (college) that’s re-buying ALL her CDs in vinyl form.
Me:“Geez, Jessie, there’s hip, and then there’s PAINFULLY Hip!”
eta: And I clearly remember CDs coming out, and we were SO happy that they didn’t have the pops and scratches that LPs did.
And CDs had better sound. That “Warmth of Vinyl” you brag about, hipsters, is the limits of vinyl’s reproduction ability…
