Monday night I was on the way back to my hotel after work and decided to stop for dinner at the CiCi’s Pizza not far from the hotel. It’s convenient because it’s on the way and Monday is a quiet night there, for the most part, and I usually eat some salad and pizza while reading. The price is good for an all-you-can-eat place, though lately I’ve been trying to cut back on the quantity of pizza I consume while there.
I walked up to the young lady at the counter and said, “I’d like a buffet and drink, please.”
“Certainly sir, will you be getting the senior citizen discount?”
I looked behind me to see if there some little old man peeking around me, but no, it was just me in line. And I sadly realized that, for the first time in my life, I was being asked if I wanted a senior citizen discount.
“Uh, I’m 52, does the discount apply?” I would have been even sadder if she said something like, “Oh no, you have to be 65” or something similar that indicated I looked much older than I am. But instead she cheerily replied,
“Yes sir, it does.” Ka ching, she rings up the register and my bill, which is usually almost $8.00, rings up as $4.00.
Hey, I think, that’s not bad! I could get used to saving some dough for being old.
Except, I don’t feel old.
I know it’s all the fault of this damn lousy haircut! Curse you, Supercuts.
Now I’ll always remember that I was at CiCi’s Pizza…when I lost my senior citizen virginity.
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