Sixty Something: A day in the life

After being accused of lying and perhaps being a bad mother on my last section of my sixty something pages, I have decided to write this section about one day only in the life of this sixty something woman. Can’t get into too much trouble with this one. Or can I? Everything I say is the truth, albeit stupid, boring or otherwise. This is my day yesterday.

It seems as you grow older, you have more trouble sleeping later, although you would think it would be the other way around. I am usually awake before 5am, but yesterday, I was sleeping peacefully, later than usual when bang, grate, screech!  God, has a car gone through someone’s front window? I was woken very startled and confused. Wouldn’t you know it, the only day I sleep late in months and it’s the bloody garbage truck. Now most places I have lived, the garbage man is early.  Some are very quiet, some not so, but none as noisy as this one. Not only has he almost slid sideways around the corner, but he has just dropped several rubbish bins and there is rubbish spewing out on the path and road. He gets paid to do this? I wrap my gown around me and go out into the semi darkness and rescue my bin and the one next door from the road. I make a mental note to let the council know about the rubbish everywhere. Surely he needs to be more careful, or am I getting grumpy now that I am sixty something? Rhetorical question folks, no need to tell me how grumpy I was!

Oh well, I’m up now, so after coffee and toast, I get ready for the day ahead. I have to tackle Centrelink. I shudder at the thought. I don’t call Centrelink anymore. The call waiting time has increased dramatically, so I think it is easier to go in, that is if you have transport. I do so off I went. The luckiest thing to happen to me all day was that I managed to get a park right out front of the office. After an hour or so, my name was called. Have you noticed they only use your Christian name? Have they not heard that familiarity breeds contempt? The young woman was polite but could not answer either of my inquiries. She gave me a form letter to help with one and a phone number to call to help with the second. Why I was here for Centrelink related inquiries was a mystery to me. She did however tell me I was allowed to use their phones for the second inquiry, which turned out to be answered by someone identifying herself from Centrelink. Is that not where I was? Oh well, count to 10 Fran, breathe deeply and move on.

Next stop was the job agency I am assigned to. Now Centrelink say it is not necessary for me to attend these appointments, but keep making them for me. When I arrived, the woman said she didn’t realise she had someone coming in this early.  By now it’s mid morning. She proceeded to tell me that they were shutting down and the government would send me a letter as to what the changes were, BUT I didn’t have to attend these appointments. I left the office with another appointment made. Go figure.

The pharmacy was the next stop. I, like many others, leave my scripts in the hands of my local pharmacy. The young girl behind the counter was prompt to serve me. I waited for my script and then this 16-something says, “is that all I can do for you dear?” Could she tell how mad I was? “Dear”? I am just past 60 and she is a snippet. Calling me dear in a condescending voice was not the way to win friends and influence me. Believing that I don’t look too bad for 60-something, certainly not old enough to be called dear, I was not impressed. She has my name in front of her. Please do not talk down to me. Am I getting grumpy in my “older” years or has the garbage man set the scene for today? Could it be that someone at 16 sees someone at 60-something as old and needs to be spoken to as though they are deaf, dumb and stupid?

The supermarket was the best place I had been all day. I was left alone with my trolley and my thoughts on what I would spend my meagre allowance on. I was happy for half an hour. I use the self serve, so when I was done, I lined up. My turn came soon enough and the register started asking me questions. I answered and proceeded to put my groceries through. As I headed out of the store with my purchases the alarms started sounding. I looked at the assistant and she promptly told me everything was fine. She didn’t look to see if my bag was filled with stuff I hadn’t paid for, she just continued talking to the girl at the next counter. I could have had anything in my bag.

Finally I was home. Most of the day was gone. This 60-something was pooped. The best part of the day was standing just inside the door wagging her tail at me. Someone was glad to see me. I hugged my little puppy and gave her the treat I had for her. I thought about my day and wondered, “was this 60-something getting grumpier as she got older?” Nah, it’s not me, it’s the rest of the world.

What’s a day in the life like for you?