Installment Twenty-Eight

I have always needed a good cause to get me out of bed in the morning. For the last number of months, my cause seems to have defaulted to me.

God, I need to get over myself. (Of course, so do most people I know but I made a promise to myself I would not be cranky or judgemental today.)

One obvious cause is the challenge that has been slapping me down since I returned to Canada, namely ageism in the workplace especially against women. Doing battle alone, though, doesn't appeal to me.

So I asked Juliet, my new friend from my walks along the Rideau Canal, to join me since she is struggling against it too. The fact that we are both divorced (soon-to-be for me) and desperate for cash infusions into our lives may give us the motivation to at least get the ball rolling, even as a support group of only two.

We do need all the help we can muster, though, in an economy where the younger generation would like the boomers to drop dead as soon as possible (for both the jobs and so they don't have to pay enormous retirement benefits).

Unfortunately, my new cause lasted as long as it took me to drink my double double coffee at Tim Hortons.

Juliet and I both agreed we would need a catchy name for our campaign. That's always the fun part of starting up any new group. So, after meeting up on the Canal, we went for our coffee to think up names. We ended up laughing so loud we were almost tossed from the restaurant for disturbing the old geezers (and I mean really old, maybe late fifties).

"How about this one," Juliet offered.

"Canadians Rallying Over Nubile Energetic Singletons?"

"CRONES? Perfect!"

We came up with others too gross to print. The more ridiculous acronyms we could dream up, the louder we laughed, until almost spontaneously and for different reasons, our emotions turned on a dime and we both felt lousy. When reality bites, it bites hard.

Still raw from her divorce and job rejections, Juliet's eyes welled up out of nowhere. In mid-hysteria, I spotted Alan Fucking Goldstein walking towards our table. I felt like the air was being sucked out of the room.

It was then I noticed Juliet was fluffing up her hair, and going into what I can only describe as 'date possibility alert' mode.

No solution to the ageism challenge loomed, but a huge opportunity to get AFG off my back was presenting itself in a win/win scenario.

"Alan," I said so sweetly I think he was taken aback. (I’m still not sure if Brian had arranged a beat down for the guy to stay away from his mother.) "Let me introduce you to my new friend Juliet."

"Hello," they said in unison, eyes locked, giving me the opportunity to buy another double dipped, custard-filled donut.

I looked back over my shoulder at the two of them, immediately engrossed in conversation which I'm positive had nothing to do with ageism.

In fact, if anything, they were a poster couple for age-appropriate dating.

I was pleased as could be until all the sugar I had scarfed down my throat wore off.