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If it's Wednesday it must be free coffee day for seniors at the neighborhood pancake house. Their idea of seniors is 50+ so at fifty eight I'm in. Unlike most of the others, I also order bacon and a couple of pancakes.
After the last hurricane, when we had no power for two weeks, they stayed open, generators running coffee pots and no charge. Not even donations. It wasn't just the coffee, but a place for the community to keep in touch during some tough times. I appreciated it. Still do.
Tattoos have made me somewhat of a renegade in the silver hair crowd. Since I joined the silver revolution and quit dying my hair bright copper red, I'm a silver now too. A nod to being a rogue, purple streaks highlight an asymmetrical side shaved cut.
"Linda! Great to see you here today." Jack was a coffee only regular. Nice guy. Older. Probably a blue piller. He pulled out a chair and joined us at our big round table.
Not that there's anything wrong with the blue pills. I've had some of my best sex with those guys. It's just that it's a scheduling thing and I like the spontaneity thing. I mean as far as sex goes, I'm never going to be too old for cock and when it happens I'll go down on the ride of my life in flames.
More filtered in and the table filled up. "Don't forget to tip your servers," I said as folks left. I didn't talk much. Just listened. Old people stuff. Health insurance. Social security. Retirement income. Stuff we shouldn't have to worry about at this stage in the game of life. I still had a few more years, but I could grasp what was coming.
"Thanks, Jimmy," I said, smiling at the waiter. He was a regular server for coffee mornings.
"Thank you, Linda. I heard you reminding them. Thanks."
"Yeah I know some of them forget to leave a tip for putting up with their bullshit," I said laughing and he grinned. Dimples, Florida tan, thick shock of brown hair. A nice guy just working his way through college. "How's biology?" I asked, knowing it was his curse of the semester.
"Don't ask," he said wryly, gathering up more dirty dishes. I smiled sympathetically.
I got up to leave. "See you guys. And don't forget to tip the servers. They gotta make a living too you know," I grinned and was off.
I have an office in a small space, second floor downtown. A coastal town, touristy, swarming with seasonal snowbirds, and migrants from the north, escaping weather and not respecting our beautiful state. Trash littered our beaches and locals took trash bags on their daily walks. I loved the area still, just not some of the people.
My business was never ending. I provided home care for those that needed it. Some had health issues and I had CNA's for the job. Some just needed help around the house. Light bulbs, leaking toilets, backed up drains, what have you. And I had drivers for those that couldn't or didn't want to drive in our hellacious traffic.
I had made some good investments and could live well without having to gouge my clients. I provided jobs for older folks wanting something to do, to college people needing the money and flexible hours. I paid well and had little turnover -- clients or employees.
Although I did have to consider hiring a few more employees. I didn't care about age, but above all they must be responsible. The clients depended on them and it was up to me to make the right choices.
Just as the phone began ringing, Fluffy my rescue cat came out of the file drawer and up on my lap. I thought of her as an employee, someone to help keep my sanity throughout the day. Stroking her soft black fur brought my anxiety a level down. I kept her from certain death at the shelter, and still volunteer there.
"Yes, we do home care of most any kind. What were you needing?" An out of state daughter looking for care for her Mother.
"No we don't provide that but I can give you the numbers of companies that do. Yes yes, you're very welcome."
It went on like this most of the day. I was forced to turn down too many today because I just didn't have enough employees to cover, so I went online to place a help wanted ad.
Fluffy relocated to my desk, on the set of client files I needed. Cats do that. They have an inner sense of what you're doing next and or where you're going, all designed to be in the way, no matter.
Internet ads have the benefit of instant gratification and it didn't take long for responses. Thankfully I could weed them out first and only interview those that showed promise. Three came in, two are on the maybe list and the other was allergic to cats and wanted me to put Fluffy away.
I graciously, as graciously as I could anyhow, told her no. Possible that clients have cats or dogs and I'm not going to interrogate them about their pets.
I stopped for a beer and a burger on my way home at the only neighborhood style bar in the town. I don't need a yak burger or wagyu or whatever the hell the latest thing was from the tourist traps.
"Linda! Long-time no see." Pete was owner slash beertender and all around nice guy.
"I know right. I rode my Harley to California and back," I said for the benefit of the guys staring at me down the bar. My tats and hair often did that. Pete laughed and put in my order, and pulled me a beer.
They didn't consider my age and that I was what would be considered full figured. No lumps, bumps or overhangs. Still pretty shapely for pushing 60. Tits drooped a bit, but hell 36C is going to do that eventually. Unless they're fake. Which mine weren't. Genetics all the way.
"Linda I thought that was you!" I swivelled my stool and it was Jimmy, who I now recognized as one of the guys down the bar. My bad.
"Hey Jimmy, I didn't know you came to this hole in the wall." Pete laughed.
"I'm studying usually, but I have a few days break and wanted to get out."
"Livin' large here!" Pete and I razzing each other was our game.
"Yeah yeah, you love it here and you know it!" Pete shouted across the bar. I shrugged. We laughed.
Jimmy grabbed his beer and slid on the bar stool next to me. We ate and made small talk for awhile.
"Can I drive you home?"
"Nah, I walk. I just live a couple of blocks away, but thanks."
"Okay then I'll walk you home." I agreed even though I felt perfectly safe by myself. It'd be good company, I thought.
"What do you do? I don't think I've ever heard," he said.
"I own a home care business..." and went on to explain.
"What a great service for seniors. And perfect for here in Florida."
"Right, Sadly we are the home of the forgotten senior. Their families live up north and forget about mom dad or grandma grandpa here. I've had great response and can barely keep up with the demand. I spent the day interviewing."
"That's really sad," he said.
"It is. And since I'm pushing legal senior status, I'm sensitive to their plight."
"What?! You're not that old!"
"I won't make you guess how old I am," I said laughing. "I'll be fifty nine on my next birthday."
"I'd not have guessed. You just seem so young. I guess a lot is in attitude huh."
"Pretty much. I don't feel old. I never had kids, who I think are aging. I didn't want someone taking over my life, like kids do," I admitted. "I'm okay with those that do. Just wasn't for me."
"To be honest I've never felt the need to see a little Jimmy or Jojo or whatever running around. Not to mention the earths resources are only going to hold out so long. Look at what a mess we've made of this earth so far."
