The Smelly Cheese

Embracing 30.

After stretching my 30th birthday celebration into an entire week long extravaganza... I am tired. Probably, because I'm old. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of it. It was like being treated to good movie. It was full of drama, laughter, surprises, a couple of explosions and I didn't have pay for anything at the concession stand (Kudos to mom and dad ).

But, like I mentioned previously, I'm old. This is not all bad news though. Becoming decrepit and smelly has some distinct advantages. Now that I'm 30, I feel that I can "demand respect" in certain venues... like a retail electronics outlets that will not be mentioned by named (it rhymes with "Best Buy"). Or pretty much any establishment that employs what I will henceforth refer to as "whipper-snappers," more commonly known as "shitheads."

I've belabored this point in the past but when I walk into a place of business I don't want to be treated like one of the " boyz." In fact, with my newly minted 30-ness, I'm going to demand at least a "sir," though a "Welcome to (insert corporation here)," will suffice too. But if I'm welcomed by another polo-wearing, pimply floor-jockey with, "What's up?" or "Hey, man," I will respond in kind. I've been waiting for the appropriate age when I can use the following phrases:

1.) "Listen you little, shit. How about showing some class and pull up your goddamn pants while you're working." You have to move in pretty close and keep your voice to a low grumble when attempting this one. Otherwise other employees may step in and "Big Reggie" may be called upon from the stock room to forcibly remove your person from said establishment.

2.) Any request followed by the phrase, "Can you handle that, son?" I've learned that most males have "daddy issues," and thus the usage of "son" in a setting where there is no relation is extremely demeaning. Less personal, but equally effective jabs are the usage of names like, "Chief," "Big Guy," and "Ace."

3.) My personal crotchety-old man comeback will be as follows, "I'm sorry. Did I hear you correctly? I could've swore that you just spouted some variation of 'Wuzzup?' First off, I find it refreshing that your vocabulary consists of a played out phrase from a beer commercial that aired when you must've been about nine. Good knowledge. Secondly, are you actually interested in how my day is going? News flash punk: I don't care how your day is going, so save the small talk. When I need something from you, like a receipt, I'll let you know. Until that moment comes, please feel free to ogle the hot cashier on register five since I'm sure you'll be using that material during your lunch break."

Getting older is going to be nice.

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