The Old Coot is sorry (and
thankful).
By Merlin Lessler
One of the downsides of being
an old coot, is that you have to apologize. All the time! I spill stuff, just
not on myself, but on my surroundings and people within range. Or, when I forget
to be someplace or do something, like dropping a letter in the mailbox at the
post office in a timely manner, instead of driving it around for three days. Or
worse, I talk too much about the good old days and the stuff I used to do. Like
that afternoon in my 30’s when I finally was able to run a mile in six minutes.
(My one and only time, and it nearly killed me). Yet, I’m still inserting it
into conversations fifty years later.
After a while you discover
that just saying, “I’m sorry,” doesn’t quite do the job with the person you
insulted, spilled something on or otherwise offended. You say, “I’m sorry.”
They frown at you and say, “Whatever!” You need a follow up to your lame, “I’m
sorry.” I learned the lesson the hard way. It was at a reception my company was
holding for a U.S. senator. I spilled a glass of red wine down the front of his
immaculate bright white shirt. Our CEO was next to him when the accident
occurred, glaring at me while I apologized profusely. The senator turned to him
and said, “Give the kid a break; somebody hit his elbow.” (A lie.) Bottom line.
I didn’t get fired. A good thing! I had two daughters in college, another in
high school and one in middle school. That’s when I learned to say, “Thank you for
your forgiveness.” Now, I add it whenever I say, “I’m sorry.”
One thing I don’t ever have
to apologize for is being late. I’m early! All old coots are early. And not
just for early bird specials. We’re early for everything. Have you ever been in
a doctor’s office waiting room and overheard the receptionist say, “I’m sorry
sir, your appointment is tomorrow. Now, that’s really early. But not as embarrassing
as when we show up at a party where the invitation said it starts at seven
o’clock. We show up a few minutes before seven. And get, “Oh you’re here
already? Come in. Jane is in the shower, and I have to go to the store to pick
up some ice.” That’s when I parade out an, “I’m sorry,” (And then stupidly add,
“Do you mind if I open this bottle of white wine.”)
You would think we’d learn
to come late, the polite way, like everyone else. But we can’t do it. It’s not
in our DNA. I suggest you tell old coot invitees a later time than everyone
else. That will avoid an uncomfortable encounter for both of you.
If these comments
offend you in some way, “I’m sorry.” Plus, the rest of the junk I
recommended saying.
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