You Know What Really Pisses Me Off? Old People

I thoroughly enjoy my lunch break at work. That being said, plopping my ass in a cubicle and writing about the ever exciting and cutting-edge world of [cannot state this industry at risk of getting fired] can — believe it or not — get a little tedious. So rounding up a group of friends and escaping the building for an hour to get some kick-ass chicken curry from Green Papaya is what I often look forward to. One could say it keeps me from hanging myself in the bathroom stall in between meetings.

Last week, some old person almost fucked up my blissful lunch break.

As my coworker, Mallory, went to take a left turn upon the appearance of a green arrow, an 80 to 176-ish-year-old man came barreling through the intersection at a brisk 50 to 60 mph pace. Thankfully, Mallory is quite the strategic driver. We narrowly escaped a scene of shattering glass, hurling car parts, gushing blood, and fiery explosions. (In my scenarios, there are definitely explosions. So shut up.)

Here’s the thing. This pile of wrinkled skin had not even a goddamn clue that he’d ran a light — one that had been red for at least five seconds. I’m not sure if he was mindlessly humming along to some Patsy Cline song or pondering about a time when a horse and buggy were the lone source of transportation. I don’t even know if he’d give two flying fucks if this intersection mishap was brought to his attention. You know why? Because he’s old. And old people are the absolute worst. Let’s delve into some examples, shall we?

Grandmas Checking Out at the Grocery Store

Each and every checkbook in existence should be collected and thrown into a stadium-sized dumpster. Actually, first let’s all get together and take a big shit all over them followed by a celebratory incineration. And don’t forget to drone strike the paper factories that produce these satanic books, too.

My point being, old people use checks. And I want them to die for it.

Now let’s talk about coupons and questions — two more monstrosities that old people hurl at an innocent cashier.

“Wait a second? Did you ring that up twice? Young man, I thought that Quaker oatmeal was discounted 2.7 percent on Tuesdays. Would you mind separating this bag of Werthers as a separate purchase that I’ll need to fill out a new fucking check for?”

And finally, we’re faced with the horror of the old person/self-checkout combination. Fuck. I need a steady IV drip of Xanax just watching them attempt to scan, bag, and pay for their groceries without blowing up the unsuspecting self-pay machine.

Social Media

Has anyone ever proposed the idea of an old person Facebook? Hell, maybe we keep them on regular Facebook, create a new, secret Facebook, and leave them to their own online world of unexplainable status updates and godforsaken grammar.

Stop the Calling. Please Stop.

I’m seriously looking into developing a smart phone absent of a calling feature. I hate talking on the phone almost as much as I hate Benedict Cumberbatch’s face. And wouldn’t you know that every old person in existence prefers a call over any other form of communication? Sometimes they even call “just to talk.” Shoot me right in my face.

I could segue way into the topic of voicemails, but there isn’t a sufficient way (or enough space on this Word document) to explain how much I want voicemails to contract the Ebola virus and die slowly and painfully. Cliff notes version: old people fucking love voicemails.

I’ll Just Stick with What I Know

I’d like to think that — even though I myself will, eventually, wither into a frail state of sore joints and deteriorating eyesight — I’ll give it my very best attempt to stay on top of trending topics, new fashions, and the latest and greatest technology as I age. Old people today do not share this vision with me.

Because of this rejection to change, we’re faced with cell phones, TV remotes, and computer keyboards that are the size of the staph infection I recently contracted on my face. (This will be covered in another blog post.) And not only do we have to enlarge these devices, but they need to be simplified to elementary-level functionality. I’m all for user friendly, but I-refuse-to-make-any-effort-or-acknowledge-that-technology-is-ever-changing friendly?

Understand that I am fully aware there are exceptions to many of these blanket statements and assumptions I’m making. But also understand that I still despise old people, regardless of if they are an exception to this blog post or not…except for my grandparents, of course. They can do whatever the fuck they want, so don’t even think about saying something negative about those wise, caring angels.

In Conclusion

So now I ask all of you what the solution to this problem may be. Do we ship everyone off to a remote island once they hit the age of 75? Do we simply “put them down” for both our sake and their own? I just don’t know.

Please, if someone figures this bullshit out, please get in touch with me at your soonest convenience…just don’t fucking call me.