October 15, 2003
Brocaw

     It’s all Tom Brokaw’s fault.  Not that Mr. Brokaw is anywhere near a daily habit at our house but if the TV set is on in the late afternoon chances are it’s tuned to the NBC newscast.  One of the staples of the Brokaw half hour is a segment, usually late in the newscast, seemingly designed just to scare the bejeebers out of every American over the age of 50.  “Millions of seniors throughout America are being ripped off by” is Tom’s usual introduction and then a field correspondent goes on to illustrate how John and Irma of Boynton Beach, Florida gave their life savings to a guy they didn’t know who called on the telephone and promised to double the size of their bank account in 24 hours if they just gave him everything they had. Seemingly it never occurred to either Irma or John the best policy might be to hang up on the smooth talker and then they compound their felony by appearing on network television to demonstrate for all America that while they’re not only dumber than a box of rocks their stupidity barely matches by their greed.

    On this particular night Tom said, “Millions of America’s seniors are worried sick they might lose the money they’ve squirreled away for retirement due to recession, the stock market or one of the kids moving back home”. Or something like that.

     We immediately realized that once again the Maynard’s were out of step with “millions of Americans” since neither of us had given a second thought to the family nest egg going in the dumper. “Ignorance is bliss” has long been the family motto. But Mr. Brokaw did indeed make us feel guilty for not  doing our part when it came to collective worry and Jan and I had best start tossing and turning all night long out of fear that financial ruin was just over the horizon.  All of which led to one of those “What-if” conversations couples have.  “What if all of a sudden we’re as poor as Joe’s old blue turkey.?”   Joe’s turkey, for some unknown reason, has always been for those with a Midwestern upbringing, the benchmark for living below the poverty line.   Why a turkey, where the color blue comes in and for that matter who is Joe are subjects I never considered and are probably best left for discussion at another time.

   “So” continued my wife, “just what would we do if all of a sudden the bank account is nothing but zeroes?” 

    “ Well I don’t know about you,” I replied “but I’m heading for San Diego to work the breakfast shift as a waiter at the Green Flash restaurant on Mission Bay.   I’ll wait tables in the morning and sunbathe on the beach or play golf in the afternoon.”

   “Fat chance of that happening” said Jan.  “All the wait staff at the Green Flash is under thirty.  You know why?”

     “Age discrimination?” I guessed.

      “Cranky discrimination is closer to the truth” came her rejoinder.  “The first diner who complained about his scrambled eggs would wind up wearing them.  Patience and forgiveness are not two of your real strengths.”

      “Well” I offered, “maybe I could work at something where my short fuse would be an asset.”

       “And that would be?” she wondered aloud.

        “How about working security at Bronco games?” I offered.

     “Oh you’d be fine until you tried to evict half the stadium for doing the “Wave” while the Bronco’s have the ball.” 

     “And they should be thrown out” I insisted. “ We’re supposed to distract the other team’s QB, not Jake the Snake.”

     Every time I came up with a job for which I felt eminently qualified, like being Jimmy Buffet’s personal taster, (you wouldn’t want him to get a bad margarita now would you?) Jan always seems to come up with a valid reason I would be disqualified should such a job exist.  It’s difficult finding fulfilling work when you’re a 64-year-old college dropout five years removed from the work force.

     Finally after a long, long discussion Jan suggested the perfect job for yours truly.  So if you ever walk into Wallyworld and are greeted by a short, bald-headed fellow in a blue vest asking, “May I get you a shopping cart?” just know that Tom Brokaw was right.