Musical Overreaction

So I bought a CD recently. For you youngsters out there, CDs are something that, along with an obsolete piece of technology called a CD player, can play music. Unlike today’s digital age of music, however, CDs are physical items that must be bought in a store, and not illegally downloaded off of the internet. The advantage to this “old school” way of enjoying music is that that CDs will scratch as soon as you take them out of their packaging, rendering them unplayable and leaving you free to spend your time doing something more constructive.

Anyway, as I was checking out, the cashier asked me, “Would you like a gift receipt for the CD?” I politely declined and went on my merry way.

However, the more I thought about it afterwards, the more I got annoyed.

I mean, since I was asked about a gift receipt, it was obvious the cashier did not believe I was buying the CD for myself. Now why would that be? Am I too old to enjoy music? Did the cashier think I spend my time sitting around listening to national public radio and discussing old man things such as sump pumps, as opposed to listening to music? Isn’t that kind of presumptuous?

Put it this way: If I had bought something like windshield wipers would I have been asked for a gift receipt? I think not!

I’ll also bet if a 20 year old with jeans sagging down to their ankles bought the same CD the cashier would not have been asked if they wanted a gift receipt. (I know that’s a bad example. A 20 year old would have illegally downloaded the music off of the internet.)

So, basically, I’ve come to the conclusion that I am a victim of ageism, and I’m not happy about it. I mean, what’s next? I can’t buy shorts unless they’re the kind I can pull halfway up my chest and which clash horribly with my knee socks and loafers?

All I can say is that I’m not going to let this rest. I’m not yet some old, forgetful man who thinks all music is horrible and refuses to listen to it, and I resent the fact that an assumption was made that I am! I’ll show them all! I’ll write my congressperson! I’ll find some random café and complain to everybody inside about it for hours on end, whether they want to hear it or not! I’ll never rest until I right this wrong! I’ll never – wait a minute….What am I even complaining about? Huh. I forget.

Oh well. It must not have been important. Now if I could just find my car keys so I can get to the early bird special.