Reflections: On Being A "Young Man"

Bob Weirauch, our Contributing Editor and Poet-in-Residence, is at it again. This time it's in a diner near his home. For the record, Bob isn't exactly an old man, but he sure the hell isn't a young man either. And that, despite his age, is a real problem. 

Waitress

Today I went to the Summit Diner near where I live. A nice young waitress, aka server, approached me with a menu and said “What can I do for you today young man?” It took everything in me not to leave, but I was hungry so I ordered and wrote the following rant: 

Young Man 

I never thought I was growing old, I thought I looked the same. Although my pants, my shirts and suits didn’t fit me quite the same. 

My step doesn’t have that bouncy spring, in fact some days I felt a little lame. In spite of all those glaring facts I really feel quite the same. 

And then one day in a restaurant the reality hit me square, a spotlight on my advancing age and something I need to share. 

It was a blow to my ego, a psychological wham! It was a waitress less than half my age that showed me who I am. 

Without a warning, without a care she uttered seven ugly words…. "What can I get you,Young Man?" 

My head snapped up and I shot her an icy glare, what made you call me young man? Was it my white hair? 

She could have called me darling, dear, or even sir, but the condescending “Young Man” was burning in my ear. 

I’ve heard it said a million times by servers, clerks and friends, but my enmity for that phrase will never end. 

I’ve earned my right to grow old and I know that I’m not young, so when someone calls me "Young Man" I have to bite my tongue. 

It’s like someone messing up your hair and telling you you’re cute, when you just invented the computer, or won a million dollar suit. 

It’s horribly condescending and as transparent as can be that the person uttering those words doesn’t have a clue what’s up with me. 

No one has the right to assume what’s going on with you. Not servers, clerks or congressmen they just don’t have a clue. 

It’s our right as survivors to demand some respect. So drop the condescending attitude and do a reality check. 

Give it up we know the truth, we know we’re not the same. We aren’t as sharp and fit like when we were on our game. 

Yes, we’ve got those quirky things we do, and lots of aches and pains, too. But we don’t need daily reminders especially from you. 

Just the same. It’s a paradox of sorts that we all want to be young again, but I still get riled-up when they call me Young Man!

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