Dilbert guy is cool.

Benefits of Getting Old

I don’t know of anyone over the age of 18 who wants to get older,
despite all the studies showing that older people are happier than
younger ones. I’ve always wondered why the elderly are so content, and
now that I’m getting older myself, the mysteries are beginning to
unfold.

For example, ten minutes ago I wanted to walk from my home to my
office, all of 47 seconds away. (Yes, I timed it.) I was wearing black
socks because I just came from getting a suit altered. There on the
floor in the foyer were my sandals. Do I bother to take off the black
socks before putting on the sandals? Ha! That’s thinking like a 25-year
old. I just slipped my black socked feet into those babies and took off
without a hint of shame.

I’m not yet at the age where I can wear a fishing hat, ball-high
shorts, black socks and sandals all the time, but it was a nice little
preview of things to come. Plus, now that I’m married I can eat all I
want and dress any way I please – at least until my wife starts
insisting we need a pool boy despite having no pool.

Being older has many advantages. My favorite one is that I get
automatic respect without earning it. That’s sweet. I could say to the
young ice cream shop vendor “Give me two scoops of vanilla, turd-boy,”
and he would probably say, “Very good, sir. Coming up!” The world isn’t
fair, but as long as it’s tilting in my direction I find that there’s a
natural cap to my righteous indignation.

The best part about being my age is in knowing how my life worked
out. Sure, there’s a lot more living to go, but there isn’t much doubt
that I’ll always be the “Dilbert guy.” Unless I go on a crime spree, in
which case I’ll be “that stabbin’ Dilbert guy.”

But when you’re 25, you are filled with curiosity about your own
future. Will you become a captain of industry or will you drown in your
own vomit? There are so many options. But the only thing you really
need to know in advance is whether you will someday run for public
office. If that’s an option, you don’t want any of your orifices to be
involved in anything you wouldn’t tell your mother.

Another bonus of advanced age is the accumulation of generally
useless knowledge that is nonetheless impressive. After about the age
of 40 you start hearing a lot of “How did you know THAT?” If you sum up
all of the facts in your head plus your awesome powers of inference
plus your exceptional skill at bullshitting, you look like a psychic to
anyone under 20.

That’s why after I call the ice cream vendor “turd-boy” I follow up
with “You’re thinking of spitting in my ice cream now, aren’t you?”
Then he says something like “Whoa, dude! How did you do that?”