The Generations Gaps and Gasp


I frequent Savers (a hip thrift store) because I love their merchandise and their merchandising. They hold a 30%-off sale every Tuesday for those over 55. I love it. The best day of the week is Tuesday. Most of the time.

So since September 30th, most Saver employees have dressed in Halloween costumes to promote their gargantuan Halloween costumes collection.  Cute stuff!  I had gotten used to the clerk dressed as a baby doll or the Monster-Mash checker.

I was lusting after some  copper earrings in the display case. The sales clerk came over to answer any questions.

“Won’t you be glad when Halloween finally gets here?  So you can quit dressing in those audacious get-ups?” I asked her, trying to create rapport with pleasant chit chat. I thought she was creating a  Rosie-the-Riveter statement from WWII days.

“I always dress like this. I’m a rocka-billy,” she replied. Would that the floor would have opened and I could escape undetected.  My hearing is such that I’m not even sure she said rocka-billy.

Ohh, the angst. I’m not even sure when I’m insulting people.


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