Posing As Normal© The Humor of Mary Tompsett

Retirement Rookie ........My bank’s new slogan is We treat you like family. So, I’m closing my accounts. The last thing I need is for an officious teller in tasseled loafers to show up at dinnertime to rearrange my furniture, question my salvation, and announce that Thanksgiving will be at my place. ........After a pathetic attempt to mime a job search, I’ve decided to sacrifice my stellar career goals and step aside to give other candidates a chance. With so many in dire need of work, I simply cannot continue my selfish history of scooping up yet another prestigious, big-bucks job to advance my career. ........But wait! I sense a caffeine-induced moment of honesty coming on! It seems my “multi- faceted” work history wasn’t so much a career, per se, but rather a…what’s the word…circus!! In addition, a glance at the birthdate on my Alligator Girl work permit brings to mind two magic words: Social Security! True, it’ll be a fixed income. Well, halleluiah and holy safety nets! Compared to zero, “fixed” will be dandy, thanks!! ........Never confuse aging with maturity. Everyone ages, except those in L.A. But only the most vigilant, dedicated souls will reach retirement without depleting their most precious natural resource: immaturity. So, fellow citizens, as we dodder into retirement, let us hereby renew our commitment to sustainable, clueless living. ........Years ago in a national park I perpetrated a lusty encounter at the top of a lookout tower. The usual exchange of body fluids screeched to a halt when a gaggle of geezers wheezed up the stairs and—HI, THERE!! As the shocked blue-hairs paraded by, studiously averting eye contact, my partner and I zipped up, snorting laughter in a flood of tears and snot. ........And now I am a clueless elder of which I have mocked! Thank God for experienced retirees who are graciously showing me the ropes. They raided my closets and issued the regulation retiree apparel: elastic-waistband polyester pants; matching top embellished with ten- inch sequined cardinals; and nylon knee-highs pre-rolled to lie snugly at the ankles. The non-skid slippers are out of stock, so I’m shuffling around in men’s white plastic wingtips with strap-on ice cleats. Winter, she’s a-comin’, ya? ........My mentors then seized the Michelangelo’s naked “David” paperdoll magnet off my fridge and slapped up HEART ATTACK SYMPTOMS, writ large on a rubber magnet the size of a door mat. I really miss David and his darling outfits, but it’s hard to stay mad at folks who have the guts to wear accordion-pleated rain bonnets. ........I’m told that structure helps to smooth a life transition. Frankly, I’d prefer high cheekbones. However, every day now feels like a Saturday, so my morning routine is to eat Cocoa Puffs out of the box while watching cartoons until noon. Under my new polyester uniform, even my underwear reflects the Saturday structure: I’ve tossed all my day-of-the-week undies except for the one labeled Saturday. Yeah, yeah, I’m gonna buy more. Just chill. ........You retired guys are on your own, especially if you buy briefs in the January to December 12-packs. You know who you are. ........I do struggle with the new 4:30 suppertime. I always thought my parents were just anxious to “avoid the rush” at restaurants. Turns out, even at home, it’s the law. ........Guided by new structures, retirement is such an adventure! I’ve already switched from blue to pink packets of sweetener. And I turned the kitchen into a shelter for feral cats. (Off the counter! Off!) Yesterday I took a walking tour billed for “active adults.” Beelzebub in a rain bonnet!! We didn’t see even one copulating couple along the way! Next time, I’ll suggest another neighborhood. ........So, how much can immature retirees get away with? Hmm. I’ll be switching to a new bank, and the clerk is sure to ask the spelling of my last name, right? ........“T – O – M as in motherf**king…P as in polyester….”