Unusual Tropical Flower

I had to work on Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day and I was not happy. First, Anne had the day off, but what really burns my butt, besides a little blue flame about an inch or two tall is that the union didn’t either. Now, I don’t begrudge them their holiday, I just think that the company should treat all of its employees the same and not separate, but equal. On a national holiday that celebrates equality, this holiday policy is a glaring inequity.

Enough speechifying, I went about my now normal business of pushing rope all day. Loosened a few knots, but since the union wasn’t in, no hands-on labor was performed. In the late afternoon, I was doing my usual Sisyphean shtick of rolling down one flight of stairs and then trudging up the next, sneaker-netting between one office and the next. In-between flights, I navigated the twisty corridors with iPhone in hand. Head down in the scope, I turned a corner and met a young woman of color. It wasn’t a near miss or anything, so I was surprised when she remarked, “For a moment, I thought that you were a millennial there.” She was joking, but I still shot back, “Girl, you need to get some glasses.” I still felt warmed by her left-handed complement and later crowed about it to several of my other geriatric engineer buddies.

She was right though, walking and texting in a factory is not a good idea. This spring the company will roll-out a new policy outlawing walking and texting on company property. I’ll need to go to a safe place before I engage with my “personal handheld electronic device”. I’ve seen a few signs already go up. This is all part of this year’s initiative to drive down accidents at work.

After work, I was in the U-scan line at the grocery store. When I swiped a bottle of wine, the managing checker came out from her kiosk and asked for my ID. I can’t remember the last time that I was ID at this store. She took it back to her kiosk, punched in a bunch of numbers and then eventually marched back to me to return it. On the way out I asked her, “Busted?” She giggled and nodded yes. I left the store; feeling somehow deflated by yet another young woman of color.

This is a milestone year for Anne and I and many of our oldest longest known friends and relatives. One has already passed over and I’ll have to ask her husband if there is more sex with sexagenarians? Youth wants to know! This summer we plan on conclaving with our Rochester friends and enjoying an orgy of good times, fond remembrances and camaraderie in the New York Finger Lakes and celebrate our passing this milestone together.