ANOTHER SENIOR MOMENT
Behold, the Retiree Club Scene
by Jim Sponseller

Okay. So now you're retiring and ready to sit back in your rocking chair and wait for the Social Security and pension checks to start rolling. You might even be looking forward to the day when you'll be escaping from those fellow employees who've been driving you bonkers for the past 20 years. After all, you probably have been spending as much time with them as with your spouse.

A couple of years pass. You find you're not sitting back and rocking away your retirement years after all. You somehow find you are busier than usual. And even more strange, you find you sort of miss seeing the old gang from work. You occasionally run into one of them on the street. "How's it going, Fred?" you ask. "Everything's going great," replies Fred. "How's it going with you?"

After a couple more years of this same conversation passes, Fred and others you worked with start hounding you. "Did you know we have retiree club?" they ask. "All the folks you knew at work belong. We have lots of fun. Great dinners, too. Why don't you and the wife come to next month's meeting." Finally, after six years of nagging, I gave in last month and showed up at the Annual Spring Dinner-Dance. Over a hundred folks were there.

Because many of you new retirees may be facing the same decision, here's my report on what you might experience at one of these meetings.

THE SOCIAL HOUR. The invitation said the social hour started at 4:30 p.m. and dinner would be at 5:30. We had told another couple we'd meet them there about five-ish and we could sit together. Bad decision. We got there at 5 p.m. Everyone else had apparently rushed in when the doors opened and we found them patiently seated waiting for dinner to be served. There were no tables with four empty seats together. We learned that we were considered late-comers. Suggestion: Better get there when they unlock the doors.

DRESS CODE. Back 20 or more years ago, us guys in the office wouldn't dream of showing up at work without a shirt and tie, along with a sport jacket or suit. But I had been informed that times have changed. They said that men in so-called white collar jobs now wear just about anything EXCEPT dress shirts with ties. So I showed up at the party in a sport shirt. Bad decision again. The club is composed of mostly guys and gals in their 70s and 80s. These white-haired gents evidently aren't about to change their old habits. Suggestion: Fellows, don't throw out your dress shirts and neckties. Check out the dress code before attending the retiree cub meetings.

IDENTITY. As new members, we were handed name tags at the door that we were to take home and wear to each event. Sounded like a good idea to me. But you know how Senior Citizens are. At least half of them always forget to bring them. In addition, the name tag type is small. So those of us in the fading eyesight generation can't possibly read the names without getting our nose within a foot of the tag. That might be acceptable when checking out the name tags of the guys but your intentions might be in question when bending over that close to the chest of the ladies. Suggestion: Pretend you know everyone. But unless you're absolutely sure, don't even guess at mentioning their names. Just mumble something they can't understand.

CONVERSATION. Our friends, Harry and Frieda, whom we hadn't seen for six months because they just returned from their winter in Arizona, finally showed up. We managed to get our table for 10 rearranged so we could sit beside them. Until they came, I was the only man at the table of ladies who still refer to each other as "girls." Just as we began to eat dinner and start a conversation with our friends, the band starts to play softly. This means that talking becomes louder. And the louder the talking, the louder the band plays. Soon, everyone is shouting. My friend Harry wasn't saying anything. His hearing aid was in the repair shop so he couldn't hear all the commotion. Lucky guy. (Suggestion: If your meeting features a band, complete all your conversations before they arrive.)

THE DINNER. The meal was served family style. I didn't hear anyone utter the words "delicious or "exquisite." However, it wasn't bad enough to prevent some of the "girls" from wrapping up the extra veal cutlets, pork roast and dinner rolls (with butter) and stuffing them into their purses. Suggestion: If you're a Senior who's trying to cut expenses and want to get out of cooking the next meal, bring along a supply of baggies. I wish I had thought of that.

THE MEETING. Before dancing, there was a business meeting. Despite serious screeching from the public address system feedback, I did hear the president complain that attendance at the dinner-dance was down this year because so many members were snowbirding in Florida and Arizona for the winter… and many decided to stay. He also suggested that perhaps an obstacle to better attendance could be that many more members were now moving up to that Great Retiree Club in the Sky. (Everyone looked at each other as if to say, "Whew!! It wasn't me!")

One of the bouncy old timers named Larry apparently takes over the mike at every meeting to tell a string of jokes. He was introduced to a round of applause and then stood there for the next 10 minutes searching on the floor and fishing through all his pockets looking for his joke notes. Poor Larry never did find them and his usual evening of fame and hilarity went down in flames. Suggestion: If you are ever on the program and need to make notes because you can't trust your memory, at least remember where you put the notes.

After 20 more minutes of reports and "thank-yous," the president stepped aside to confer with another fellow officer at the head table. Seeing the empty podium, the leader of the four-man combo apparently took this as his cue to strike up the band. To the rockin' tune of "Look For the Silver Lining," dozens of my fellow retirees and their spouses quickly tottered up to the dance floor and danced the night away.

Well, not quite the whole night. It was about 8 o'clock when the revelers decided it was getting late. It was definitely time to depart if we wanted to get home before darkness set in.

I've got to confess that belonging to a retiree club didn't seem like a bad idea after all. I think I'll even attend the next event, the Annual Picnic. It will be in a park where the presidents says, "We'll partake of hot dogs and hamburgers, play games and renew old friendships." I sure hope I don't spill mustard on my one and only necktie. Or will it be proper to wear a sport shirt to a picnic?

I have a couple of months to think about that, but as a reminder, I just better make a note so I don't forget to think about it.

Jim can be emailed at sponcom@ameritech.net.