I Must Be Getting Old

Last night, Colleen and I went to Hastings Books for a casual evening of perusing the bookshelves. After about 1 ½ refreshing and relaxing hours of sitting in the nice leather chairs reading and talking, we got up to leave. As we did, our attention was drawn to a clearance display and we stopped to look through the selection of reduced price books.

While we were showing each other the various discount bargains that caught our attention, it happened: I realized that I am getting old. As Colleen and I were goofing around, suggesting this book and that to each other, I overheard a conversation at the help desk between a customer who was about my age and a 16-17 year old clerk.

Clerk: “May I help you?”
Customer: “Yeah, do you have Mad Magazine?”
Clerk: “Uummm, let me look [in the computer]. Is that the name of it?”
Customer: “Yeah, Mad Magazine.”
Clerk: “Hmmmm. Is that an actual magazine?”
Customer: “Yes, it’s called Mad Magazine.”
Clerk: Surrendering the search in the computer, “Well, if it’s an actual magazine, it would be over there in the magazines.”

If it is possible that a 16-17 year old clerk in a popular bookstore hasn’t ever heard of Mad Magazine, then it’s official: I’m getting old!