Feeling Old

I was always that kid who “seemed older.” When I was young, this got me praise from adults and made me feel mature and smart.

Now, “seeming older” makes me feel incompetent and bewildered. It’s terrible, and happening more often.

There’s no place that makes me feel older than the mall.

I decided to go to Mall of America after work yesterday. I recently got a replacement cellphone and I needed to get a case for it. I also wanted to buy some new gym shoes – simple enough, right?

I start at Big Box. After several minutes looking at the Samsung cases, I corner a bored looking employee:

Me: “Hi, can you help me?”
Clerk: “I guess. What do you want?”
Me: “I’m looking for an Otter Box phone case. It’s for a Note 2.”
Clerk: “A Note 2? Um… we don’t carry cases for phones that old.”
Me: “Is the Note 2 old?”
Clerk: “Ancient. I think we are on 4 or 5 now. Try Amazon.com, a flea market, or an antique store…“

My Note 2 is technically “new” because the phone insurance company just sent it as a replacement phone. The Note 2 also looks like any other smart phone…but the 18-year-old Big Box clerk obviously thinks it’s the equivalent of a flip phone.

I leave Big Box feeling like a dinosaur and go to the Sprint Store across the hallway.

Me: “Hi, do you have cases for the Note 2?”
Sprint Guy: “Hah. No. We only have new phones here.”
Me: “Ugh. Well… wait, am I eligible for an upgrade?”
Sprint Guy: “Let’s see…yes! You’ve been eligible for an upgrade since 2013 actually! Maybe it’s time to ditch that old clunker?”
Me: “It’s not a clunker… it was just sent to me by the insurance company…”
Sprint Guy: “No, it’s a clunker. Let me tell you how the Note 4 will upgrade your lifestyle…”

I leave with a newly activated Note 4 about an hour later.

And I still don’t quite get it – years ago, upgrading my old Blackberry to a Note 2 was a dramatic shift, but switching to the Note 4 feels like a marginal upgrade.

Sure, it has more storage and an allegedly better camera, …but I don’t do any of the gaming, movie watching, or digital hoarding that would necessitate a brand new phone.

And yet, now I have one.

Things only got worse when I tried to buy gym shoes.

I went to about three different stores where I was aggressively ignored by the teenage staff. The stores seemed to mostly stock Nikes, which I dislike, and there were very few Adidas available.

Eventually, I stumble into a Foot Locker. I don’t think any of the employees were of drinking age.

One zit-faced employee shows me the tiny Adidas selection with a bit of an eye roll. He then informs me that they don’t carry the pair that I want in my size.

I’m exasperated.

Me: “Ugh. How about these?”
Zitty: “Which ones? The tacky yellow ones?”
Me: “Yes.”
Zitty: “Oh, we have those in your size, Big Foot. BRB.”

Zitty brings the shoes out, I try them and love them.

Me: “What brand are these?”
Zitty: “Asics.”
Me: “Asics? Like Basics?
Zitty: “Kind of like Basics, but they are called A-sics.”
Me: “Huh? I’ve never heard of them. Is it a new brand?”

He looks at me like I’m moron and says no. (He was right.)

I flee the mall feeling like Carlton, but at least I have new phone and shoes.