My first paid work was in a busy restaurant in the centre of a busy tourist destination point. Restaurant? No, it was really a hamburger and fried chicken factory designed to overcharge long lineups of hungry visitors. On any shift there was probably ten to twelve high school students in the 16-17 year age range with six or more assigned specifically to kitchen duty. The kitchen supervisor was an elderly man who was at least mid sixties, perhaps older. Although I can’t say for sure, I think he worked there because he needed the money. Those of us in the bloom of our youth thought he was ancient.

This man’s main chore was to work the deep fryers, cranking out baskets of chicken and fries. As I consider his circumstances from my current vantage point, I’m guessing he was probably struggling a bit, working a job he probably disliked and perhaps resented. Except for the boys helping at the fryer, I don’t remember any one of us ever speaking with him. He was largely ignored. 

One day, when business was slower than usual this older man got caught up in a sort of daydream. He was absorbed into himself, turning something over in his hands and he began to sing. In my mind, what I recall hearing was an old Irish ballad of sorts. Full voiced and tuneful, he sang completely unaware of his surroundings. The singing lasted long enough to cause the rest of us to stop and stare, gaping and silent. When something finally woke him out of his reverie he startled like he had heard a door slam. He took a moment to realize why we were staring. He recovered and snapped at us to quit standing around and get busy. 

It was an episode I have reconsidered with different sympathies over the years. For myself and my young co-workers, in the midst of our ‘we’re going-to-be-young forever’ delusion, it was an incident worthy of laughter during break time. Since then, I’ve seen my own loved ones experience lapses in time and mindfulness. Different circumstances and different behaviours, but still…

My husband and I once had a good laugh at a man standing on a street corner wearing a grey suit, matching tie and a large pair of dark wrap-around sunglasses, the kind required after cataract surgery. One of us started to sing, “My future’s so bright I gotta wear my shades.” Har har. Years later when my husband had his own cataract surgery, we remembered our little joke. We laughed again but not as hard. 

I’m convinced that an abundance of collagen affects your foresight. In his novel, The Only Story, Julian Barnes described it aptly as being ‘filthy fucking young’. Every youth on the planet may understand that they will either grow older or …not, but if you are fortunate enough in your life’s station to have had a few giddy years free of babies, mortgage payments or other sobering circumstances then ‘It won’t happen to me’ is a very seductive refrain. 

So here I am, a senior citizen who has taken a part time job. I am fortunate to have a choice in this matter because I am certain if the singing chicken fryer had had any options he would have likely spent his summers engaged in more pleasant activities.

If an abundance of collagen could affect one’s foresight into old age, then perhaps a lack of collagen engenders empathy for seniors who may not have the same choices in income, energy, health, or cognition.

Details on the employment will follow. There will be no post next week while we all enjoy March break.

Stay safe everyone.

Anne Milne is an every Sunday blogger, unless it’s a holiday weekend. Or summertime. Facebook or email.