Some of the best deals are on layaway

Attention shoppers: the anything-to-save-a-buck event starts now.
That might sound like the start pistol for the Christmas rush, but it takes on special meaning for people at a certain time of life.
Not so long ago, I attained an age that apparently is a milestone of sorts. Here I am, in some circles at least, considered a senior.
I wouldn't have thought of it as a traditional milestone some years back, nor as the starting point for seniordom, but you know how it is in these more inclusionary times. You can just see some cocky young 35-year-old going to the human rights tribunal to argue his right to join the 55-plus club. For whatever: principle, or with the vainglorious notion of clinching gold in the next games.
I'm not sure what I've got planned for this passage - and I suppose you want to be careful how you word that one. I'm reminded of the old quip about how one feels on growing older: 'it's great considering the alternative.' My feeling is if you can still rock 'n' roll you're still in the game. And I'm not as old as the Stones.
My slightly elder sister-in-law, a year or so ago, commented on how a certain department store frequented by many of us offers their senior specials to customers at age 55.
"Really," I said. "Do they ID you? Like, do you have to bring your birth certificate or show them your driver's licence? Or do they issue a special card?"
"No, I don't think so," Susan said. "They just figure if you're brave enough to admit how old you are they'll give you the discount."
I haven't tried yet. I'm not too proud, just too chicken. I do find this amusing, however, since I've been poor all my life. I'll be well practised in looking for special, golden-age rates.
I recently mentioned the subject in regular e-mail correspondence an old university friend and I have established. Jack is about a year younger than me. I told him about achieving this 'milestone,' the first of many with any amount of luck, and about how guys of our vintage can look forward to special treatment at this particular store.
Jack responded, telling me about his own experience at a shopper's mecca in Victoria, where he now lives, a store well known for its bargains. And I might mention that, from photos, I gather Jack is about as silver-haired as yours truly.
He was in this store, at the checkout, and got chatting with the young lady on cash about any discounts they might offer. She looked at him and said, "Well, you might be eligible for them."
It took a few moments for the gist of it to sink in, then suddenly he realized what she was getting at: you qualify if you happen to be a senior. He was somewhat taken aback at this fresh, young thing taking him to be possibly 10 or so years older than he really was.
Not to worry, I wrote to Jack after reading his tale. These young kids, once you get past, say, 40, you could just as well be 70 or 80 or 90. They don't know. All they know is you remind them of their grandfather.
I've been thinking, though, one day just for the fun of it I'll go into this store I've had in mind. I'll load up on a whole lot of meds, special vitamins, Geritol, arthritic relievers, Gold Bond powder, Viagra and the like, wheel my cart up to the cash and ask whether it's seniors' day, just to see if I get a straight-faced answer.
Or perhaps not. Maybe I'll wait another five years - or until I truly, desperately need those items, whichever comes first.