Frigid Old Ladies Melt for Me

I love making old ladies smile. I'll claim it. There's nothing that puts me in a better mood than finding an elderly woman that looks like she just got to the grocery store after burying her last surviving friend and smiling at her as I round the corner of the cereal aisle so enthusiastically that she can't help but return the favor.

Sometimes I'll even purposely make them almost run into me just so I can make it seem like we avoided a near collision. It creates a kind of bonding moment. You know that move where you start to roll your shopping cart to the right, only to have the shopper coming toward you veer to their left, making you wonder whether they are from Europe? Well, I do that on purpose so I can say "Oopsy" to these grannies and watch as they flash me their pearly dentures. You'd think they would catch on to me, but they don't!

I had an especially nice time the other day when there happened to be a bird fluttering around in one of the aisles. It had managed to peck it's way into a bag of pancake batter, and was probably well on it's way to eating itself into a coma.

"That can't be very sanitary," I said to the 70-something lady searching for Metamucil.

"You're telling me," she said. I'd made a friend!

"I hope that nobody catches bird flu, that would be tragic!" I said. "They're going to have a heck of a time catching that thing!"

I don't know why old ladies like me so much, but I think it has to do with my hair color. Before redheads were hated all over the planet and exiled to Scotland, when these old ladies were young girls, lochs of copper hair were considered to be a sign of royalty. I'm not making this up, just ask any old lady with a shoddy dye job and she'll tell you. She'll say, "Well my my, that boy has such NICE RED HAIR. He must be the descendent of royalty. Can you IMAGINE??"

So yes, it is my hair that polarizes these gentle geriatrics to me, and it is only appropriate that I should respond by making them smile. So that's what I'll keep doing.