Getting Too Old for This [Stuff]!

For the last four or five years, I’ve occasionally said in jest, “I’m too old for this stuff!” (Sometimes I substitute a different word instead of “stuff.” If you remember Danny Glover in the “Lethal Weapon” movies, you know what I mean.)

For example, whenever my wife and I return from a trip to the grocery store, as we start carrying the bags into the house, I’ll smile and say, “Wow, I’m getting too old for this.” Then I continue to haul the rest of the bags in without a problem. (Even though the bags are heavy, you would think the way a visit to the grocery store lightens my wallet nowadays, weight-wise it would be a wash. Just sayin’.)

A couple of weeks ago I had to visit an office building and conduct a maintenance training session for the facilities staff. We usually spend time in a conference room going through the operations and maintenance manual. And then we inspect the actual HVAC equipment we’ve just discussed, either in the mechanical room or on the roof. To get to the roof, many commercial buildings have a stairway up to a penthouse, and then you walk through a normal door and you’re on the roof. Easy peasy.

However, this particular building had only one way onto the roof, a metal ladder with round iron rungs going straight up about 20 feet to a hatch on the roof. When I got to the top, the only thing to hold onto while scrambling out through the hatch was a wobbly little rail. As I stepped onto the roof, into the sunny 90 degree weather, I could feel sweat forming on my forehead.

The roof was coated with a white weather-proofing material, and I didn’t bring sunglasses, so I couldn’t really see anything as I stumbled away from the hatch to let the next guy come through. I playfully exclaimed, “I’m too old for this stuff.”

Then I discovered that the equipment we needed to inspect was on a raised area, about five feet above the main roof. One of the maintenance guys said, “I forgot to get a step ladder. Everybody’s OK with just climbing up there, right?” 

Oh, did I mention that the oldest maintenance guy present was about 35? 

I don’t remember the last time I climbed over a five foot high wall, but it probably was when I was around 20 and I’m sure it was no problem. So now, 45 years later, it still should be easy, right? Yeah, no.

Putting both of my hands on the top of the wall, I lifted myself and swung a leg up. I succeeded in getting my leg up on top. And that’s as far as I got. I was suspended there, laying on the edge of this structure with one leg sprawled across the top and the other leg dangling down toward the main roof. I grunted, “Little help, please,” and one of the other guys grabbed my belt and shoved me up. I rolled over onto my back, like a stranded turtle, except turtles don’t usually hurt a hip by rolling onto the car keys in their pocket.

As I laid there for a moment, with the sun blinding me, my hip throbbing, and sweat filling my eyes, I blurted out that comment, but this time without any shred of playfulness: “I’m too old for this [stuff]!”

The good news is, after the training session was over, I made it down in one piece. The other good news is, since the stock market turned my 401k into a 201k, I only have to do this for 14 more years before I can afford to retire. Nice!