Second verse. Different attitude.

I don't like to repeat myself. I like to say new and different things and not repeat myself. Alas, sometimes repetition is, I repeat, necessary. In this current situation, I will be repeating and yet not - I will take a new tack as I explore a change of life which I have already addressed.

You might remember the traumatic moment that was my being labeled a senior citizen at Dunkin Donuts. It was so emotionally wrenching that, while I haven't stopped going to Dunkin (now, sans Donuts) but I have refused to look at the receipts. Today, i broke that streak and looked at the charges. I saw IT again (the senior citizen line item) but I didn't let that cow me. I am a strong, independent, woman (sans woman) and can deal with a bakery franchise deeming me over some metaphorical hill. Truth is, I'm a 49 (or so...math and I do not occupy the same space at the same time) year old, bald-esque, over, wait, not horribly fat Teaneck Jew-boy and no matter whether or not I feel old, I have learned to just go with the flow. But that's not the attitude adjustment I came here today to speak of.

So let use review the salient portion of my receipt. I bought a large decaf. Black, no sugar. All bitter and angry. A good cup of coffee should punch you in the nose on the way down. My receipt, listed as "Eat In Order: 216" in case your are keeping score at home, reads

1 Ht Cof LG Decaf 2.59
Black
1 Senior 5% (0.13)

To quote the bard, "that would be scanned."

Let's just say, for a moment, that I'm old. You needn't say it out loud, but grant me my senescence for a moment. If I have reached that lofty and exalted status of senior citizen, then I have proven my worth to society over a sufficient number of years and need to be recognized and rewarded for not currently being dead. And you know what? Five percent isn't going to cut it. Thirteen measly cents off after all my years of hard work aging? If you want the position of authority to call me a senior citizen then you are going to have to pay handsomely (so smile). Giving me 13 cents does not properly provide recompense for all the years I have had to endure. I now reserve the right to be a curmudgeon, a complaining codger! So give me my coffee and chop at least 25% off that bad boy's bill. Make me feel loved, or at least properly pitied. So, yeah, I'm old(ish) and want whatever goodies are coming to me before I get to the point when I can't complain publicly and loudly about it.

Fiver percent isn't even worth putting on the receipt. I am a senior. I want my senior swag.