Fortunately, given the only alternative, I continue my sojourn through this life aging less than gracefully. My hearing is getting worse particularly regarding higher frequencies (like soft female voices), my comprehension a little slower, and my reaction time continues to degrade.
That said, I refuse to be a victim and thus I got my concealed carry permit yesterday. In the afternoon, I went over to a local gun shop to get a shotgun and do some research on what handgun I would like to get for personal protection (the 12 gauge semi-auto is for home protection, to hell with Joe Biden, TURD).
When I was ready to pay for the shotgun and ammo I shuffled over to the check out area. Once there the winsome cashier looked me over and said, “Strip down, facing me.” Being a Life Member I made a mental note to complain to the NRA about the gun control wackos running amok even in sporting goods stores. I then proceeded to do just as she instructed.
When the hysterical shrieking and alarms finally subsided, I found out she was referring to how I should place my credit card in the card reader!!! I later learned the ‘TSA’ on her name badge was just her initials.
As a reasonably intelligent senior citizen, I do not get flustered often. But this time, it took me a while to get my pants back on. I’ve been asked to shop elsewhere in the future.
I tell you, they do need to make their instructions to seniors a little more clear. Yet I still don’t think I looked that bad standing there as I had a long gun not one of them sub-compacts.
