The Eve of Destruction

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.

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