One of the rewards of getting old is becoming free of inhibitions and fears, of truly becoming oneself, as it were—which can sometimes be a frightening prospect for the rest of the world.
Senior freedom unleashed can manifest in a straightforwardness, a boldness, an aggressiveness that, if not reined in by social graces, can be relentless and abrasive. That’s why, when I feel the spirit rising in me, I try to remind myself that courtesy does not diminish valor. In my lolo Rafael’s main tongue, in which I heard it first and most often, “Lo cortes no quita de lo valiente.”
Age seems to have made us more sensitive about our rights, more appreciative of them; thus, we act on them with greater conviction. Well, my husband and I do so at every opportunity. We have, in fact, gone beyond merely active citizenship—ours is activist citizenship.
As such, we may have become a pain in the neck for restaurants, for instance, that fall short of expectations or promises. We’re bound to notice since we eat out at least once a day, and when we do notice we express our dissatisfaction on their rating forms if they distribute any, or directly to the manager.
A restaurant we go to often has been the latest to get it from us. We pointed out to the waitress that the pepperoni pizza we had ordered and been served looked and tasted like salami pizza. She insisted it was pepperoni. Having enough of both to be able to discern with righteous conviction, we called the captain, who confessed they indeed had run out of pepperoni.
Without the confession, the restaurant would have deserved a boycott, a penalty we reserve for graver crimes like shrunken portions or deteriorated quality or bad attitude. If we know the owners, we also let them know. It’s our way of keeping their enterprise honest and efficient, and ourselves happy.
Another thing with age: We’re predisposed to be happy.
At one chicken place, we took what parts it had to serve, not exactly those of our choice, wings and breasts, which it had supposedly run out of so early in the day, and without the franchise’s particular attraction, honey biscuits. After we had paid, we realized we hadn’t ordered drinks. But the dispenser was out, and iced tea was all there was. That did it. We pushed our tray back and demanded a refund.
Uncanny
By now, aware of the situation, many others in the queue, apparently activist consumerists themselves, had taken their hunger elsewhere.
The place has since closed. Rather uncanny, but some places we have severely punished or simply avoided eventually do go out of business.
To be sure, our issues go deeper than that. We’d like to advocate not just an awareness of rights, which is a matter of law, but asserting our deserved self-worth, especially in relation to our public servants.
Early this year I wrote here about the grave sense of scandal aroused in me upon finding the picture of our young mayor appearing with mine on one of my senior cards (I’m told it now appears on other documents, not to mention in public places in our city, Makati).
A few days later a news item in this paper quoted him as claiming, incredibly, that he knew nothing about it, and suggesting he found it anomalous himself and would correct it. But when I asked again, anxious to get a new card without the irrelevant face, the senior-citizen representative told me there was no point correcting, since most seniors she asked didn’t seem to mind being paired pictorially with the mayor— for the rest of their lives, possibly.
Well, I most certainly did mind, and still do! I want this public servant of mine in his proper place, and certainly not on my own identification card!
My husband and I attended this month’s senior-citizen meeting hoping to get an answer from the mayor himself, who had promised to come. But his city administrator came in his place, said her piece, and left amid an electioneering chorus promoting her nomination to vice mayor.
At the meeting, more freebies for seniors were announced—free immunizations, massages, manicure and pedicure, eye checkups and glasses, educational trips.
Indeed, we could easily be the envy of seniors elsewhere. Supposedly to showcase us, barangay officials from other parts are bussed to Makati and put up at public expense, something that does not fail to arouse suspicions, considering the obvious ambitions of the reigning local dynasty.
With a bottle of water and a light lunch pack, we left feeling impoverished and used.
But thank heavens for activists like young Carlos Celdran and Juana Change and their anti-epal (nagpapapel) campaign; seniors like us are not alone, after all.