In a couple of years, I’ll be 70. No fanfare is necessary. As far as I’m aware, I still have most of my mental faculties, although my body sometimes feels past its best. So I resent it when staff in shops and cafes call me ‘‘dear’’. I am not their ‘dear’ – we don’t know one another – and I’m still perfectly capable of making my own decisions.
Why is it that when people see a few wrinkles, some grey or thinning hair, a bent body, that is all they see? And all they think is ‘old.’
There are lots of us ‘older folk’ out there who still work in responsible jobs, and with changes to the pension age in the UK there will be far more older people in the workforce in the future.
I remember thinking someone I worked with was old when they celebrated their 40th birthday; so part of me understands their perspective, but I would never have called someone ‘dear’. I was taught to respect people and the word ‘dear’ in this context is so patronising!
I did once challenge someone in a café who called me ‘dear’; she replied with “I just wanted you to feel welcome ‘dear’”. I commented that prompt service and a warm smile would have done the job much better.
I know people in their 20s whom I would call old, and I recently met a 90-year-old who has all his faculties (as well as his own teeth and a full head of hair, albeit silver!), and I challenge anyone to call him ‘dear’ – they would get a right tongue- lashing!
None of us ever really think we’re going to get old – but it’s by far the better of the two options! I wish I did still have the energy I had when I was 20, but I don’t think I’d change anything else; I wouldn’t want to do it all again.
I just don’t want anyone to call me ‘dear’ – ever. Even if I met the man of my dreams tomorrow, he’d be out on his ear if he once called me ‘dear’.
So please – don’t call me ‘dear’….
ALIVE AND CREAKING 