Who’s That Old Guy?

Recently I was on a business trip in Canada, the highlight of which was a day-long seminar about the exciting features of a brand new piece of commercial air conditioning equipment. (OK, you’re right, I need to brush up on the definition of various words, such as “highlight” and “exciting.” Either that, or I need to get out more often.)

During the seminar, I looked around the room and noticed that every one of the other 25 people in attendance was younger than me. A couple of guys might have just turned 50, I estimated, a far cry from my age 58. The rest were in their 30s and 40s. I suddenly felt very old. I don’t remember being in a business situation where I was definitely the oldest person in the room. Some of the people at the seminar were born in the 1980s, for goodness sake! Shoot, by the mid-1980s I was already at my fourth job since getting out of college. I finally settled into the HVAC industry about the same time some of the attendees were in nursery school. I applied that old expression to myself and thought: “I’ve forgotten more about this business than some of these guys have ever learned — and that’s just since breakfast!”

As I sat there, not paying attention (some things never change, regardless of age), I started to calculate in my head how much money I ought to set aside each year in order to be able to retire comfortably at age 65. Unfortunately, putting 100-percent of my current income into a pension plan might cause problems with the monthly budget.

Suddenly, the guy doing the presentation said, “And what do you think, Bill?” I looked up and saw that he was staring at me. He repeated, “What do you think?” I muttered to myself, “I think I need a nap,” and then I took a deep breath and said out loud, “Well, it’s an interesting feature, no doubt. But it’s actually very similar to what Trane and Carrier offered three decades ago. I do like, however, that you’ve given it a much smaller footprint.” (“Footprint” is a sure-fire impressive buzzword in my world.)

Other guys in the room smiled at me. Their smiles meant either, “Hey, the gray-haired dude has lots of experience,” or, “Hey, the gray-haired dude is older than dirt.”

The next day, when I drove through U.S. Customs on my way home, the agent looked at my passport and said, “Wow, this is an old photo!” I smiled and said, “Yeah, I used to have brown hair.” What I really wanted to say was, “My hair may be gray, but at least I have some, you bald-headed stooge!” But I refrained, mostly because he had a gun on his hip.

When I got home and told my wife about my geezer episodes, she laughed and said, “That explains your two favorite places.” Totally confused, I said, “Huh?”

She said, “When you’re not at work, where do you spend a lot of time?” Still confused, I replied, “I dunno. The bathroom? The couch?”

She said, “No, at church.” Then she continued, “And where is our new favorite vacation spot?”

This one I knew. “Florida.” Then it hit me. “Right! When I’m at church or in Florida, I’m NEVER the oldest person!” Being age 58 in church is in the middle of the pack. And being age 58 in Florida is like, heck, it’s like being a high school kid.

Now all I need to do is convince the manufacturer to schedule the next seminar either in church or Florida. I’ll give him a call right now. No, first I need a nap.