About old people and a door

Old people.

They can be a font of wisdom, the road map to life's precious secrets.

Or they can be a pain in the proverbial.

There is this nice small neighbourhood shopping mall. There is a bench facing the exit door to the multi-storey car park and a nearby elevator. A resting area for weary shoppers and bored husbands.

Three old people plonk their fossilized asses on this bench to pass the day, every day. Never mind that they deprive weary shoppers and bored husbands of a rest area. What is unacceptable is that they find the fully air-conditioned mall too cold for their comfort, and have taken to wedging the exit door open so they get a mix of cold and warm air!

One day, I decided that this wasteful practice shall cease. That day, I walked past the fossils and closed the door. One old codger immediately and huffily got up, walked past me, and wedged the door open again. I said as politely as I could manage that the door should not be left open because airconditioned air is being sucked out. He waved his arthritic gnarled fingers in my face and angrily said the door should be left open because old people have problem opening the door with their hands full of grocery. I said he could get up and open the door when old people with groceries needed to walk out that door. He berated me about talking to him with no respect. (Hey, I only suggested he should open the door for hapless old people.)

I have filed a complaint with the management office of the building about these cranky old people and the open door. The somebody-in-charge mumbled something about looking into it.

I have been back in that building many times since. The fossils are still parked in their favourite seat in the house, staring blankly in front of them, as the cold air rushes out the open door.

Old people. Mostly they are a pain in the proverbial.