Many years ago, I worked at a restaurant in the Midwest, one that offered a senior discount. You'd have thought we were Best Buy on Black Friday based on the crowd that came for this deal.
One day, a rather fancy solo diner sat in my section. I couldn't quite tell if he fit the bill for our 65-and-over discount, and we were told to ask in cases of uncertainty.
"Hello, sir, are you a senior?" I asked.
"Why yes! Yes I am!" he beamed. I was taken aback by his reaction, but hey, I applauded the man for basking in the feat of having lived a long life.
We was a delight to wait on, so much so that I stayed sober for (most of) that shift.
Eventually it came time for the bill. He paid, and then gave me an expectant look.
"Would you like me to sing something?" he asked.
"I'm sorry?" I responded.
"I figured you recognize me from some of the local theatre I've done? That's why you asked if I'm a singer?"
I didn't want to crush his spirits, so I corrected my response and enjoyed a long, mostly on-key sampling of "Camelot."