I’m That Old Lady Everybody Hates

I have no problem at 60 telling you what’s on my mind.

Janice Maves
Dec 14, 2020 · 3 min read
Photo by Cristian Newman on Unsplash

I am that lady. You know the one in the bakery aisle at the supermarket who has no intention of letting you take the last baguette. There is no way you’d yell at me with my shiny white hair in two adorable pigtail braids and my multi colored scarf wrapped around the shoulders of a threadbare blue car-coat. You notice as I walk away that I am leaning heavily on my shopping cart.

The lean is for emphasis on my part. At 60 and well worn, I feel like I have some inalienable rights which I’d like to exploit before I go. That baguette was one of them. As a younger woman I wouldn’t have gone in and grabbed it out from under you. I’d have let it go. I would have let you take it and place it next to the goats’ cheese and tapenade in your basket. But now I feel worthy of it. I feel worthy and entitled, and I didn’t when I was your age.

Here online, where it is easier to learn assertiveness than it is to bake a good babka, I’m learning to speak up and to be that old lady I used to sneer at, and wonder what gives her so much nerve?

Living is what does it. It’s that simple. Living and watching and learning. And reading a few articles about building an online audience and a voluminous content library.

I am that lady who says to two young guys buying beer and ice cream at the local convenience store, “You boys should be wearing a mask,” and walk by them in a large arc. Beer and ice cream and reeking of weed. I would have asked them for a joint but that wouldn’t have fit my old lady image. I saw one of them pull the neck of his T-shirt over his nose as he went to the check out. Job well done grandma police.

I’m also the buzz kill who will come over and admire your adorable baby. Make it laugh or shush it to sleep whilst you take that moment to get yourself together.

Babies love me. They have little experience with the subtleties of psychological warfare. A smile and a raspberry are all they need to be happy. But their parents I can knock off with a smile and a comment like, “Enjoy them now. There’ll be hell to pay when they are teenagers.” Or “my cousin’s kid acted a lot like him, and he is doing better now that he’s in community college.”

Let’s face it, it’s fun to fuck with young people. Especially when they are taking themselves so seriously. Like on Medium. Where everyone has advice for making a living as a writer online.

But we have all seen the stats, only 5% of us are making over $100 a month writing on this platform. How many are making a passable living, as in $4000 — $5000 per month. Maybe one half of one percent of you? One quarter? Anyone consistently doing that? Mazel Tov if you are.

I am that old lady who is highly leveraged but has an income property that pays ALL of her living expenses, including the cost of her fiesty little Fiat 500x that she buzzes around in.

I am that old lady with the nifty Nanny job who gets to play with an 18 month old 20 hours a week and gets paid $25 an hour to do so. Ha ha, playing and baking and teaching him how to be a snarky teenager.

Life is good at 60, but building this content library for passive retirement income: that is hard. And that will be the gist of my next entertaining essay.

ILLUMINATION

Janice Maves

Written by

Essayist, Poet, Mom, Dog Owner. Lives in Cornish, ME with Wallace the Airedale, and ponders Life In General.

ILLUMINATION

We curate and disseminate outstanding articles from diverse domains and disciplines to create fusion and synergy.

Janice Maves

Written by

Essayist, Poet, Mom, Dog Owner. Lives in Cornish, ME with Wallace the Airedale, and ponders Life In General.

ILLUMINATION

We curate and disseminate outstanding articles from diverse domains and disciplines to create fusion and synergy.

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