Now, given that I write for teenagers, it’s very easy for me to feel old, even though I’m safely ensconced in my mid-thirties which — come on! — isn’t that old. (Right?)
But yesterday I had a brush with reality.
I foolishly answered the phone, even though Caller ID showed a number with which I was unfamiliar. Little did I know what awaited me on the other end of the line…
FRENCH CANADIAN GUY (FCG): Ah, ‘allo? I am calling from Organzation Whose Name I Can’t Remember. We are testing materials that may be aired on television. We are not selling anything. Would you be willing to help us? Are you in the 18-24 year old age group?
ME (Me): No.
FCG: Ah. Are you in the 25-34 year old age group?
ME: No.
FCG: Ah. Could I speak to someone in the house — male or female — who IS in one of those age groups?
ME: No one like that here.
FCG: Not now, or…?
ME: Not ever.
FCG: Thank you. Have a nice day.
And then he hung up.
Man! I’m that old that no one wants my opinion any more? I wish I could get rid of telemarketers like that…