Old Rule: You Ain't Cool

Bob Here.

You've all heard the old saying, "You're only as old as you feel."

Well, in that case, my age must be approaching my area code.

Moving out of state, I had to bring my car in for a new inspection sticker.

Little did I realize that the experience would make me feel so old, I wondered if the guys in the shop thought I probably took my driver's test on a dinosaur.

I drive a red convertible sports car, and hey, you didn't hear the words 'mid-life crisis' from me.

The guys doing the inspection were in my age group, but there were a couple of younger guys working in the shop as well.

One of them came out of the garage over to where I was sitting and said, "Your ride's bad, man."

Of course, I panicked, and I said, "Why?? Is something wrong with the suspension??"

The young man just gave me a look like he was wondering how I escaped from the home.

I clearly didn't get the message from his disdainful look because after he walked away shaking his head, one of the older guys came out to tell me my car was ready.

"Is there something wrong with the suspension??" I asked, still in panic mode.

He just looked at me.  Then he said, "Not that I know of.  Why?"

"Well, 'junior' over there said my ride was bad."

The guy just snorted.

"No," he started off like he was talking to a first grader.  "Your 'ride' means your car.  And saying it's 'bad' means it's good.  That he liked it."

I did my best to slough it off.  "Oh...yeah...I knew that, heh heh."

But the guy was still looking at me with a mixture of wonder and pity.

So, I settled my bill without any more communications disasters and drove off, still feeling about an inch tall.

As many of you who know me are aware, I rank pretty low on the "coolness" scale.

I daresay I can hold my own on any numerical matter, but when it comes to culture, I'm a complete pinhead.

And, I broadly define culture as including any kind of modern lingo, anything having to do with the arts, current cultural rages, popular television shows, celebrities, social networks, fashion, design, or anything else for that matter that might be mildly associated with living with a somewhat updated outlook.

And, of course, those of you who know me also know that I blame the whole darn shootin' match of cultural density on being on dialysis.

I mean, how can I be expected to keep up with the times when I'm hooked up to that blasted machine for seemingly half my life?

I don't know for sure but I'd bet there aren't too many museum curators on the Big D.

Also most of you know that my career was in corporate finance, which means that my idea of a wild time is reading the 'Heard on the Street' column in the Wall Street Journal.

The last several years of my career coincided with the growth of social media.  And, since I was in charge of my company's marketing budget, I basically had to learn a new language and had to be dragged kicking and screaming into a whole different way of staying current.

I always felt a little out-of-place when I spoke about some of these new concepts.  Kind of like Yogi Berra quoting Shakespeare.

One time, a woman from our digital business came in to get approval for a small expense.

She overlooked my blank expression when she said the funding would help keep us up to speed with the 'Twitterati.'

I really didn't understand the whole program, but since it wasn't a lot of money, I approved the request.

As she was leaving my office, she turned around and said the initiative was 'droolworthy."  I just nodded.  Then I thought for a minute.

Did she say 'droolworthy?'  As in, the results will make me drool?

Or as in, I'll look like more than the doddering old fool that I already do when this plan crashes and burns, with a blank expression and drool running down my chin??

So I yelled out, "Wait a minute!!"  She stopped short out in the hall and looked like I had just about given her a major coronary.

She came back in.  I said, "Droolworthy.  Is that good or bad??"

She just breathed a sigh of relief and shook her head.

"Droolworthy is good," she said, smiling.  "You'll look like a real badboy for approving this project."

Then she was off again.  I had a fleeting thought about calling her back to assure me that 'badboy' is good as well, but I let it go.

Sometimes it's better just not knowing, but assuming the best.

This generation-borne gap certainly exists in the dialysis center as well.

I had an attendant in one of the first centers I went to who knew I was a little sensitive about getting older and having time pass me by.

He also knew that I could take a joke, so he never passed up the opportunity to kid me about my age.

He came up to me one day during treatment and said, "So Bob, you know the other day I saw an old guy sitting on a park bench sobbing hysterically?"

"Yeah," I said warily.

"So I went up to him and I said, 'Sir, what's wrong?'  He says, 'I have a beautiful 20 year old wife who likes to make passionate love to me.'  I said to him, 'So, why are you crying?'  He says, 'Because I can't remember where I live.'  Ha ha ha ha...."

I just snorted a laugh and went back to my book.

While I was in this center with my 'coolness' factor continuing to deteriorate, I had occasion to sit next to a much younger dialysis patient who had lost her kidney function due to an inherited disorder.

I always admired her positive spirit despite being on dialysis at such a young age.

During one treatment, we were sitting next to each other and both listening to our iPods with earphones.  My attendant buddy saw this as a golden opportunity.

He came over to our chairs with a big smile.

"Hey, I bet you two are listening to the same music," he said.

I just looked at him.  "I seriously doubt that," I said.

"So, what are you listening to?" he asked my neighbor.

She said, "Oh, I just got through with a great piece from Neutral Milk Hotel.  My next one is new from Avenged Sevenfold."

I just sat there staring at her.  I honestly didn't know if she was making these names up as part of a conspiracy with the attendant.

"Really?" the attendant said with an even bigger smile.  "So Bob, you got any Neutral Milk Hotel on your iPod?"

I said, "Well, I spilled milk on my iPod once.  Does that count?"

Then we all laughed.

Then, before I knew what was happening, he snatched up my iPod and looked at the readout.

"Hmmm, the Dave Clark Five, huh?  Very cool Bob.  Very cool."

We looked over at the youngster, and she was looking at me curiously.

"The Dave Clark Five?" she said.  "Not sure I'm familiar with them.  Are they Alternative?  Electroclash?  Ethereal?  What's their scene?"

"Oh no," I said sheepishly.  Of course, I tried to cover up my cluelessness by making something up.  "None of those things.  They're more...um...progressive psychedelic rock..."

"Huh," she said, looking at me doubtfully then plugging her earphones back in.  The attendant looked like he was going to burst.

"Well," he said, "Your treatment's going great Bob.  I'll let you get back to your progressive psychedelic rock."  

I called him back over.  "Did you know there were three things that happen to you as you get older?"

"Oh really, he said.  "What are they?"

I said, "The first is your memory goes..."

He said, "Yeah?"

I said, "I can't remember the other two..."

Both he and my neighbor had a good laugh over that one.

Sometimes, the best defense is a good offense.

Thanks for reading.  Stay young and keep smiling.