You gave me WHAT kind of discount?

     So today Rick and I decided to climb little 900-foot South Mountain at Pawtuckaway State Park, not a half-hour from our home, to train for our hut climb in the White Mountains two weeks from now.
     We were feeling all energetic and virtuous and hardy, and decided to stop at a Dunkin’ Donuts on the way for some fortification before what turned out to be a three-and-a-half-hour, challenging but beautiful hike up and down this lovely fire station peak.
     Rick ordered two a veggie burrito and hash browns, with decaf. I chose a veggie omelet flatbread sandwich with a half-decaf, half-high-test coffee. Rick paid with his debit card and we sat down to enjoy our breakfast, which was actually quite good.
     Only when he went to get more napkins did I glance at the receipt and see what had transpired – a first for both of us. The original bill was eleven dollars and something, but then I saw the cashier had typed in “Senior Citizen discount, 10 percent” and had automatically deducted something like $1.16.
    And he hadn’t even asked us how old we were!
     Oh, the indignity! I still have five months before I turn 65, and Rick even longer. Could it be we not only look our age, but even older? It’s unacceptable.
    It was all I could do not to go back to the counter and give him back his $1.16.