Real Eggs

One morning as I was out and about, I popped into a fast food restaurant for breakfast. The best on the menu was the new ‘protein platter’. It sounded like an excellent choice – healthy and nutritious. In fact, I was told repeatedly that it was made with ‘real eggs’ which made me wonder what was in the other breakfast dishes. It also had a stripe of bacon, a thin slice of ham, and a small sausage paddy. Everything tasted real. And not only did everything taste real; it had less than six grams of carbohydrates. Along with that dish, I ordered a coffee and an English muffin. Pretty good breakfast, wouldn’t you say?

Of course while I was sitting there stuffing my pretty little face with real eggs, my imagination entertained me once more when the clerk behind the counter dropped a fork. Here’s the scene;

The clerk picks up the fork that she just dropped on the floor. She quickly passes her tongue over it, smiles at the elderly couple at the counter who have just placed their order, and sets the fork on their tray as she announces; “There! All clean now!”

The male customer turns a greenish colour as he stares at the fork in disbelief. His wife passes out. A loud thud is heard as she hits the floor. The clerk leans over the counter to look at the elderly lady sprawled on the floor and says, “The poor dear must be hypoglycemic.”

Mixed Emotions

Earlier this year, I enjoyed receiving my very first senior’s discount. There was a sale at a department store, plus customers fifty-five and over were offered a ten percent discount. I rushed in to make my purchase. Because I knew exactly what I wanted, it only took about ten minutes to find the item.

I dashed to the cashier with excitement. The young cashier rang in the sale and then I shyly asked for my senior’s discount. Without hesitation she said I could have the discount on the sale price. My excitement grew as I mentally counted the pennies I was saving on this deal. I told her I could show her proof of age, in fact, I’d be delighted. I zipped open my wallet and was about to show her my driver’s license when she replied in a cheery voice, “Oh, I don’t need proof.”

As I stood there in a shocked state with mixed emotions swirling within me, I wondered if I should check my face in a mirror. Perhaps I had aged greatly while standing in line. Perhaps my face had suddenly wrinkled like a prune and sagged like a wet towel. And if not, I’d put my face into hers and repeat the question – loudly. But I didn’t, instead I hastily paid for my purchase, grabbed the bag and ran for the doors.

Just wait ‘til she ages!