(An elderly woman is paying for her purchase with a credit card. I help her swipe her card through the reader and prompt her to sign on the screen with the stylus. She is having some difficulty.)

Customer: *shaking the stylus* “This pen must be out of ink; it won’t write.”

Me: “It doesn’t use ink, ma’am. You need to keep your signature within the box.” *pointing at the box on the screen*

(She managed to make some illegible squiggles in the box. I handed her her receipt and wished her a pleasant afternoon. I giggled inside because I’m pretty sure she thought her shaking the stylus for ink is what made her signature appear.)

We’ve lived in our neighborhood for a few years now. It’s fairly large, so we’ve mostly only met the people living on our street, but it’s common to see lots of people walking or biking through the neighborhood on nice days.

Over the years, I’ve noticed an older couple who like to walk their little dog in the early evening. We always wave at each other, but I don’t know them very well. Gradually, it seems like they are walking slower and slower. Then, there are a few days when I only see the wife walking the dog. I — rightly, as it turns out — assume the husband is starting to have trouble keeping up with her.

A few weeks later, I notice the woman walking their dog. Next to her is her husband, happily riding a hoverboard! I don’t know what makes me happier; that they found a way to keep walking together, or that a seventy-something-year-old man taught himself to successfully hoverboard around the neighborhood!

(There’s a new movie out called “Dirty Grandpa.”)

Every Single Old Customer That Walks In: “A ticket for Dirty Grandpa. Not that I am one!”

(Then they wink at me and walk away, leaving me desperate for a shower.)

(An elderly couple, at least in their 80s, comes up to the counter for two senior chicken meals we offer. It goes fairly smoothly, but it becomes evident that they’re both hard of hearing, so we have to speak slowly and loudly. At the end of the transaction, we get to witness this gem:)

Cashier: “Is that for here or to go?”

Husband: “Visa, please.”

(His wife gives him a light smack on the side with her cane, and a stern look.)

Wife: “He asked if you wanted salt or pepper! Pay attention!”

(I work in a hospital. I am a cis woman, but since I am tall and broad-shouldered with short hair, I do occasionally get misgendered by young children, and adults who aren’t wearing their glasses. This doesn’t bother me, particularly because about half the time people are specifically talking about how “tall and handsome” I am, and I will happily take that compliment. When I tell people about these incidents, they usually either apologize or reassure me that I’m very pretty and feminine. However, this elderly gentleman blows my mind with his response.)

Elderly Patient: *to a group of ladies dozing in their wheelchairs by the television* “See? These ladies aren’t nearly as lucky as me; I get a beautiful young woman to stroll around with me, and there aren’t any handsome young men to take them walking!”

Me: *jokingly* “Well, if you’re not wearing your glasses, I can pass for a man!”

Elderly Patient: *completely serious* “Oh, are you trying to tell me something?”

Me: “Oh, no, I just meant with my hair—”

Elderly Patient: “No, no, I think you’re trying to say something. Which do you prefer?”

Me: *very conscious of being in a somewhat conservative, faith-based workplace, where I don’t know most of the staff yet* “Oh, I mean—”

Elderly Patient: “Because let me tell you, it doesn’t matter to me if you prefer one, or the other, or both. None of that matters as much as being a good person.”

Me: “I completely agree—”

Elderly Patient: “You know, I’m 97, and I know I talk too much. I can see I’ve embarrassed you. No, don’t say I haven’t, because I have. But you know what? We’re all individuals in this life. It doesn’t matter which one you want to be. As long as you’re trying to be a good person and not hurt anyone, none of the rest of that matters.”

(For the ten minutes that it took us to walk back to his room, I received something between a lecture and a pep talk about my intrinsic value as a human being, regardless of my supposed trans or non-binary identity. I have heard some awful stories about how people treat the LGBTQ+ community, but this gentleman gave me hope for humanity.)