Posted on November 21, 2013 under Storytelling with one comment

“But you tell me over and over and over again, my friend

Ah, you don’t believe

We’re on the eve of destruction”

Eve of Destruction

Barry McGuire

We would all like to think that we will escape the ravages of time.  Not so.  When we were young muscles were taut, we had ample amounts of hair and our complexions were smooth.  Gradually, slowly, the inexorable truth comes out.  A paunch appears around the mid-section.  Trips to the barber shop are less frequent, and the telltale lines of stress and worry begin to make road maps on your once handsome visage.

I don’t need to be told I’m aging.  One look in the mirror on any given morning provides all the evidence I need.  I am also routinely asked at stores if I am a senior, thus qualifying for various discounts.  This is all par for the course and I never give it a second thought.

And then, all of a sudden it happens.  When you least expect it, father time rears his ugly head and just smacks you down.

I was in a neighboring town not long ago tending to some business.  On my list was a visit to one of Canada’s five national banks.  I was applying for a credit card for my new small business.  Surprisingly, the bank was empty, being one day after cheque day.  I was the only customer.  I spoke with a receptionist and stated my quest.  And then I was asked to come to the end of the counter.

The last wicket had a chair sitting in front of it.  It hit me like a thunder bolt.  I had arrived.  I was going to experience the “senior’s chair.”  A broad grin crossed my face.

The client service representative could not have been more pleasant and helpful.  She was not condescending and assured me that everyone who applies for a credit card sits at this end of the counter.  If she’s a Catholic she’ll have a bold faced lie to take to the confessional this week.

I dutifully answered the myriad of questions required in order to get the new credit card.  We bantered back and forth in a good natured fashion and finally it came time for me to sign off on the documents.  I have progressive lenses in my glasses and from time to time, my eyes play tricks on me.  But there was no mistaking the large print on the paper in front of me.

“Certificate of Destruction.”

My first instinct was to call the R.K. MacDonald Nursing Home and immediately get my name on the waiting list.  How could I have gone downhill so far and so fast?  I immediately thought of that great old protest song from the mid ‘60’s, “The Eve of Destruction”, and even hummed a few bars of the chorus for good measure as I made my way to the parking lot.

Out of the corner of my eye (the good one), I spotted an agent from a document shredding company exiting the building.  I wondered how surprised he would be when he got back to the office and tendered an application for a credit card as proof of his work that day.

Posted on November 19, 2013 under Storytelling with no comments yet

My wife’s grandfather was an amazing man.  He was extremely talented with his hands and could build or fix just about anything.  He had a workshop next to his house, and this was his place of refuge.  He loved working with wood and one of his prized possessions was his workbench to which was attached the largest vise known to man.  Some say that he could put a 2×4 into the vise and it would come out flattened like a piece  of ¼ “ plywood.  In other words, this vise was a beast.

I mention this because I was asking my wife to describe mammography.

As we age, we must all practice preventive maintenance.  We have our teeth checked regularly, some of us get a flu shot, men get an annual prostate examination and women are urged to have a mammogram to detect signs of breast cancer.

Most women and some men would not be remotely interested in hearing the details of a prostate exam.  But I feel compelled to give you a visual.  Imagine a witch, stumbling out of bed , a bit bleary eyed and hopping on her broom, only to discover that the broom handle somehow got lodged in her arse.  Enough said.

And so it was that a friend of ours, being in that age group, needed to have her annual mammogram.  For many women, just the thought of making the appointment is enough to induce cringing.  Like a prostate exam, most women arrange this through their physician but in some cases it is done through a central registry.

Having had to cancel a previous appointment, she decided to call the 1-800 number and get it over with.  Whether it was anxiety or a sleepless night worrying about it, she inadvertently dialed the wrong number.

On the third ring a pleasant sounding male voice greeted her.  She didn’t bother listening to his cheery salutation. She just wanted to book the damn appointment and be done with it.

“I’d like to reschedule my breast exam, please.”

This harmless question was greeted by a lengthy pause and a clearing of the voice on the other end of the line.  Thinking that he had not heard her correctly, she repeated the question.  She thought that she heard a chuckle on the other end of the line, which quickly turned into a guffaw. “I would love to help you out, ma’am, but I think you’ve called the wrong number. This is Geography World.”

She joined in the laughter and they ended the call, with Joe from Geography World wishing her luck with the exam.

She hit the end button on her cell phone, mildly embarrassed at the snafu.  And then she thought to herself that the call could have gone much worse.  In some places, medical exams are being conducted using wireless remote technology.

She imagined arranging the real time examination using Skype.

Joe would have been very surprised.

Posted on November 18, 2013 under Monday Morning Musings with 2 comments

I was hard up for a picture for this post so I put this one up for your early Monday morning viewing pleasure!

We’re in the home stretch of our vacation. It seems that our vehicle is permanently pointed in the direction of a mall. We are taking a little road trip up to Orlando today to drop off Peter at the airport. And speaking of Peter, he and his buddy Ryan played two gigs here on the Gulf Coast. They did an awesome job and had the two bars in which they performed rocking pretty good. Some of you have heard them before and if you haven’t, check out their website at www.macandhawes.com. They are a great wedding band and do a lot of corporate functions including private house parties.

So,  I’m innocently scrolling through Facebook the other day and came upon a funny story about a woman who was scheduling a mammography… not that that’s a laughing matter, I’ve been told. As you know, I am not afraid to wade into shark infested waters so I thought I would take a stab at a story. It’s called ” Manography.” I’ll have to be careful with my choice of pictures for this one.

And just so you know, I haven’t forgotten about the story that happened at the bank in Port Hawkesbury a few weeks ago where I was escorted to the “senior’s chair” to take care of some business. Coming soon, ” The Eve of Destruction.”

I was gassing up the vehicle the other day and when I went inside to pay ( they don’t always accept credit cards at the pump if you’re from Canada) I encountered a lady by the name of Becky. She was having a bad day but it seemed more likely that she wasn’t having a very good life. She was misery personified and that’s is being incredibly charitable. I immediately dubbed her ” Becky the Bitch. ” Ooooh. I know that that is going to offend someone but once in a while, you just have to call it what it is. It was a Shell station and the story is called ” Shell Lacking.” Say that three times quickly and you’ll get the gist of it.

I know it’s Monday but looks at it this way, it’s almost Friday again.

Have a good one.