Sister Shenanigans ~ Senior Citizen Discount
For a couple of months, Maggie and Sam laid low, eating at home to let their bank accounts recover from their sudden change of plans in New York. Truth be told, they probably should have stayed in a few more weeks, but their taste buds were craving a good steak at Caribsea. The steaks there were so tender you could practically cut them with a fork.
Sam was drooling just thinking about it.
“Hey, I have an idea,” she said. “Let’s try to get that new waitress and tell her we’re in the Platinum Club—and that we left our cards at home.”
“That’s a great idea, but we have to be over 70 to be Platinum members. You just turned 64 and I’m 66. Neither of us looks like we are over 70,” Maggie mentioned.
“Come on, where’s your sense of fun. It’s at least worth a try.”
“Fine. Let’s go, I’ hungry.”
When they entered the restaurant, Maggie asked the hostess if they could be seated at a specific table—one in the new waitress Kelly’s section. The seed had been planted.
As they scanned the room, Maggie and Sam spotted Dianne and Jane a few tables over, waving enthusiastically.
“Oh God,” Sam murmured. “Those two are so annoying. They’re always talking about their senior club. For God’s sake, Jane, we don’t want to be part of your boring senior club, sitting around with a bunch of little white-haired old ladies.”
“I know,” Maggie said, “but be nice when they come over.”
Jane and Dianne made their way to the table on their path toward the exit.
“Well, hi, ladies!” Sam chirped. “How are you? It’s been way too long!”
Jane and Dianne immediately launched into a detailed diatribe about the senior club. They had secured a room at the library for daily meetings, shared with the knitting club, the craft club, the cooking club—blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. A glazed look slowly spread across Maggie and Sam’s faces as they slipped into a trance that felt like it lasted an hour.
“And here you are, ladies.”
Saved by Kelly.
“Oh, so sorry we didn’t get to visit longer,” Maggie said quickly. “But we wouldn’t want our steaks to get cold.”
Sam rolled her eyes so hard it almost hurt as Jane and Dianne made their way to the door.
Mmmmmmm. MMMMM.
No words were spoken until the last bite was taken and the plates were licked clean.
“Ahhhhhh, I can’t move. I am sooo full. I mean it, it hurts,” moaned Maggie.
“I wanted dessert, but there’s just no way,” Sam said disappointedly.
When Kelly came with the bill, Sam jumped in. “Hey Kelly, I am a Platinum member, but I left my card at home. I’ve done that before. I guess that’s what getting old does to you. Anyway, can you please apply the discount and bring us the new receipt?”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll be right back.”
“Phew, I didn’t think it was going to work so easily,” panted Maggie.
Kelly came back, but the owner was in tow. “Excuse me ladies”, said the owner, “but I don’t recognize you as one of our Platinum members. Would you kindly mind providing your ID or driver’s license so we can check our system?”
“Um, we left them at home too. I’m so sorry,” explained Maggie.
“Well,” the owner said, “I don’t want to cause and issue. We will apply the 10% tonight. Could you kindly bring your card by one day this week? I would greatly appreciate it.
“Absolutely,” both Sam and Maggie chimed in.
They paid the bill and made it to the car before they busted into a nervous laughter.
“Oh my God. We can never go there again. We are criminals. Drive Sam. Drive.”
“I can’t drive Maggie. I can’t stop laughing. I feel like I robbed a dang bank.”
The next day, Maggie went kayaking with a friend and then out to lunch. When she got home, Sam was waiting for her on the front porch.
“Maggie. Maggie. Oh my God,” Sam said, pacing. “The restaurant owner called to remind me to bring in my Platinum membership card. What the hell? Give me a break. The card gets you a ten percent discount at one restaurant—it’s not like it’s a million-dollar deal.”
Maggie doubled over laughing.
“It is not funny. Stop laughing.”
That only made Maggie laugh harder—so hard she snorted.
“Oh… my… God… I’m going to pee. This is hilarious.”
“No, it’s not. Stop laughing, Maggie. What are we going to do?”
“I’m not doing anything,” Maggie said between gasps. “What’s he going to do—call the police? I can see it now: us in handcuffs, our faces on the nightly news. Two older women arrested for using a ten percent discount they didn’t qualify for. Possible ten-year sentence.”
She walked into the house laughing, stopping every few steps to catch her breath.
Moments later, Sam was on the phone.
“Yes… um, okay… yes, that’s fine. Sure, I can do that. I’ll come in later this week. Thank you.”
“What now?” Maggie asked.
“He says it’s no problem. He’ll just give me a new Platinum card. All I have to do is bring my driver’s license.”
Maggie let out a howl, her face turning red as tears streamed down her cheeks. She was laughing so hard she couldn’t make a sound.
“And how exactly,” she finally wheezed, “are you going to show him a driver’s license with your picture on it that says you’re over seventy?”
“That’s it!” Sam screamed. “I need a fake ID.”
“A what?” Maggie chuckled. “A fake ID at our age? And where, pray tell, are you going to find that?”
“The same place I got my last fake ID—a college kid. I’m driving to UNC Wilmington. It’s only an hour and a half away. Are you coming?”
“Well… I guess.”
They pulled on jeans and sweatshirts so they wouldn’t look quite so old and took off for Wilmington, brainstorming the whole way. They decided a sorority house was their best bet and went straight to the Delta Zeta house, letting themselves in.
“Ladies!” they called out. “Ladies, can you help us?”
A few girls stared at them in shock before cautiously approaching the “grandmas.”
“Yes… can we help you?” one asked. “Whose grandma are you? We can go get them.”
“Grandma?” Sam squealed. “No, dear. We are not grandmas. We need help finding someone who can make us a fake ID.”
Now the girls were beyond confused. A few chuckled, though no one quite knew how to laugh yet.
“Um,” one of them said gently, “why would you need a fake ID? You’re definitely over twenty-one.”
“Oh, of course we are,” Maggie said, laughing. “We need one that says we’re over seventy.”
“Over seventy?” another girl asked. “You mean you still need fake IDs when you’re older?”
“It appears so.”
“Well, this guy at Delta Gamma makes good ones. We can take you to him.”
Two of the girls hopped into the car and directed Maggie and Sam through town until they reached the Delta Gamma house. They told them to wait in the car while they checked to see if the guy was around.
Thirty minutes later, the girls popped their heads out the door and waved them in.
As soon as the door opened, a cloud of smoke washed over them. Ah, the sweet, sweet smell of college. How could anyone forget that aroma?
They climbed the stairs to a back room plastered with 21 Savage posters and Drake album covers. Bongs and paraphernalia littered the space, and the only seating options were bean bags. Maggie and Sam groaned as they lowered themselves down.
“So,” Jordan said, “you’re here for an ID. Interesting. Want a hit?” He held out a blunt.
“Uh, no thanks,” Maggie said, waving him off. “It’s been a minute,” she added with a chuckle.
“It’s for me,” Sam said. “And it needs to say seventy.”
“Ah makes sense.” He snapped a photo in front of a white cloth, then flopped onto his bed and started clicking away on his laptop.
They sat with the girls, who were now completely stoned. Maggie and Sam felt high just from breathing the air. A few minutes later, a tiny printer hummed, and a plastic card slid out.
It was perfect. Spot-on.
“How on earth did you do that?” Maggie asked. “That’s incredible.”
“I know,” Jordan said proudly. “That’ll be $200.”
Sam handed over the cash without hesitation and thanked him before they left.
They didn’t feel quite ready to drive home yet, so they stopped at a sandwich shop by the ocean and laughed themselves silly over what had just happened. No one would ever believe it.
They were absolutely telling this story at the family reunion—once the grandkids were asleep. The kids were going to die laughing.
This one ranked right up there with the night they got arrested… but that’s a story for another time.
-Lisa Briggs Davis