This is actually saying a lot; as I am currently underemployed and work with 16 year old's, realize that the N64 will be 18 old next year, and understand that I'm considerably older then MLB All-Star Bryce Harper.
But at this moment, I feel very similar to PGP (Post Grad Problems)'s Veronica; who recently wrote an article called "The Worst thing You Can Call a Girl: It’s Not The C-word, It’s 'Ma’am'." In this article, she covered the inner dialogue that occurred after being called Ma'am at a local coffee chain.
Insert the same coffee chain, but a different situation. I was sitting here, writing a Postgrad in Suburbia original review of Green Basil Restaurant in Downtown Naperville, when I looked up from my work to see am individual pointing at the chair across from me. Removing my headphones, I received the most depressing question I've heard outside of "What are you doing with your life?" asked every day.
"Excuse me, Mister... Is anyone using that chair?"Mister? What am I, a 55 year old who sits at Starbucks in the same chair, running a questionably scammy financial planning venture? Why would I be a mister? What could possibly define me as a 'mister' besides the fact that I was regarded as old? Who would have such disrespect to call a 23 year old 'mister'?!?!
This question has been running through my mind since the occurrence, and I feel that I probably can't think about this without a depressing answer. Maybe I am old. Maybe these lower back problems aren't just in my head. What have I done with my life? Does this mean I can give life lessons and tell tales of my youth?
Stay tuned Postgrads, we may have to switch to Geriatric in Suburbia... In which I review breakfast in family diners, elderly dating sites, and complain about how no one respects their elders anymore.
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