Sunday, when I was out and about, I bumped into a coworker of mine.
Actually, I also bumped into a former coworker, one I hadn’t seen in about six years.
This former colleague was with his kids, and he said to them, “Come meet my friend, Martin.”
Not 30 minutes later, I saw the current coworker, who was also with her kids. She introduced me too, except she told the kids that my name was “Mr. Lieberman.”
Forget my bad back or my noisy-neighbor complaints. When people start calling you Mr. whatever, you know you’ve gone past the getting old phase.
Now you’re actually old. Continue reading
Martin's Musings 