Guest-Blogger: Amy on Old People

Every day I come across a butt-load of things that piss me off- but this one reeeeally gets me roaring with hatred.

Old People.


Now I understand that's an unfair generalization. Believe me; I know plenty of sweet elderly lasses that I would utterly enjoy spending an afternoon with, baking cookies and working on my cross-stitching. BUT there are so many geriatrics running amok these days!


I work in a veterinary clinic on the outskirts of Portland, and that means 60-70% of our clientele are 1) old 2) have either a dozen cats or 3) own a Lhasa Apso.


(This was the first image that came up on Google Search for "old lady and small dog.")

This means I am subjected to a barrage of asinine questions day in and day out, and just because they're 105 years old they think it's an excuse to be rude OR that I should know exactly who they are and what they want when they walk in the door. "Look, I know YOU'VE been coming here for 35 years, but I have worked here only 2."
It's as if they expect me to be a fucking reader of dementia-inflicted minds.

Here's a conversation I have with these dinosaurs on a weekly basis:

Amy: "Hi there, what can I do for you?!!" (and yes, I do have to shout because they won't hear me otherwise)
Old Person: "Oh, uhh, oh yes. I'd like to refill my medication for Teddy." (for some reason all old people name their pets this- - a likely throwback to Roosevelt)
Amy: "Okay, I can do that. Which one do you need?!!" (I have to ask this because most of the time the dog is on more meds than Lindsey Lohan)
Old Person: "Oh, well I can't remember the name! It's the blue one... I think. I don't remember what it's for."

And that, ladies and gentleman, is when I have to go through the Bible-sized chart this animal has and decipher which is the "blue one".

I always WANT to say to them, "Here's an idea. Why don't you write this shit down before you get into the ole Buick and drive down here?" But I CAN'T say that because they will likely storm off and complain to my almost-geriatric boss.

It's not even work-specific issues I have with them. They can't drive, they're so damn frail, they always smell like a closet (or like cat food), they're cheapskates. The list goes on and on.


I will say this though: they are a goddamn fountain of (mostly useless) information! I've had a lot of great conversations with the elderly, but it's when they talk about "that time in the war" for the eighteenth time I have to declare enough is enough. Another downside of said conversations is that they spit a lot whilst talking- usually with food in their mouth. Gross.

I guess that's just the way it is. And I completely understand that one day I WILL be one of them (if liver disease doesn't take me before my time) And I am TOTALLY going to be one of those asshole old folks who pretends to have no idea she's cutting the line at the grocery store, or taking up 3 lanes of traffic, or stealing things she thinks should be free. But for now, I am youthful, attractive, and can control my bowels. SO HAW! SUCK IT, OLD PEOPLE!


p.s. I love you Grandma!